Page 37 of Seashells at The Summer Hotel Lovely Bay

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As she waited to check in, she inhaled what was around her: freshly cut flowers on the desk, what smelt like beeswax furniture polish, rich textured fabrics in vibrant colours, the rustle of silk curtains, quiet footsteps, and soft music. Each detail of the foyer felt as if it had been hand-picked; intricate carvings decorated the walls, low coffee tables between silk-covered chairs, large pots brimming with water and plants, and really just a medley of lovely tropical things.

After checking in with ease, Nina pushed open a heavy timber hotel room door. Immediately, she was hit by lavender, lemongrass, and ginger from a diffuser, a polished teak floor, a carved four-poster bed draped in white linens, a vibrantly coloured silk runner, and matching dress cushions. The faint rustle of the fabric in the breeze from the colonial fans was more than welcome.

Nina left her case by the door, ran her fingertips along the polished wood of an antique writing desk, patted the bed and stood by the shutters at the window looking down at a pool. The unfamiliar hum of cicadas, lush greenery, and warm afternoon sun streamed through the windows. She stepped into the bathroom and found herself inhaling a deep, long breath as she took in the ornately carved mirrors, walk-in shower, and, to her delight, a deep sunken bath. Turquoise-green and pink mosaic tiling, along with a stash of toiletries and fresh piles of brilliantly white towels, surrounded the sunken tub. Nina couldn’t quite wait to dive in.

Pulling back the huge old teak shutters fully, she wrenched up a bolt from the old-fashioned full-length balcony doors, yanked one of them open, and stepped out onto the balcony. She was hit by a blast of humidity and a swirl of lush greenery, deep greens, and blooming frangipani. For a minute, she stood looking out over the water lapping against the pool's edge, watched palm leaves rustling to her left and jasmine climbing over an arch.

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Nina closed her eyes for a second, inhaled everything she could, let her breath out in a long slow release, and smiled. This was going to be good. So, so good.

It was the next day, and Nina stood on a bridge overlooking the Cho Praya River as it glistened underneath her. The sun beamed down, the humidity cloaked her in a veil of heat, and she could feel an unfamiliar dampness behind her knees and in the creases of her elbows. Boats chugged across the water, and huge, wide, slow-moving barges transported goods upriver, stretching endlessly away. It was about as far from a scene from the River Lovely as it could be. On the street below, vendors peddled goods, trinkets and all sorts and hustled past, seemingly unaware of the heat. Nina took in the busy city: the revving of boat engines, the beeping of horns as tuk-tuks passed, and people bustling along as they weaved their way through the crowded streets.

Across the thick air, a mishmash of smells hit her nose; fried food, jasmine garlands being sold by street vendors, the smell of traffic, and the scent of the river. As she stood still, letting it all whoosh around her, she felt as if the humidity was clinging to her skin for dear life, the tropical heat wrapping her every which way it could. Her entire body pumping in the heat.

Nina laughed to herself as she stepped off the bridge and started to walk along the street as she recognised the familiarblue sign of Boots the Chemist on a corner in Bang Rak. It was a little different from the chemists she knew from home and certainly nothing like Birdie's chemist in the middle of the high street in Lovely Bay. On the opposite corner, a 7-Eleven store seemed to offer a cool respite alongside a long line of awnings where street food vendors displayed their wares. People hustled past, seemingly oblivious to the temperature and a woman in a business suit with a red parasol with white spots stopped to look under one of the grimy blue street umbrellas. Another, in gigantic rubber sliders, a white apron, and a long-sleeved blue top, sat on a green plastic stool on the edge of the pavement, preparing fresh fish.

To the right of the pavement, huge electricity poles held a labyrinth of wires like nothing Nina had ever seen. The red signage of a shoe shop was somehow familiar, and pink taxis and traditional tuk-tuks flew by at the dozen. Nina was hot – so very hot – sweaty, tired, but thoroughly enjoying herself. She’d spent a good few hours wandering street markets, navigating the crazy traffic, hopping on a boat down the river, and getting lost in the beautiful buildings of the old town.

After trying to decide where to have a drink, Nina found herself in a little café on a corner. She sat in the window, looking out over the busy goings-on of the street in front of her. As she sat with her cold drink outside the window, she watched as street food stalls prepared for what she assumed would be the evening rush. On a streetside stove just in front of her nose, a plethora of sizzling woks and old-fashioned steaming pots wafted amazing smells into the air. Skewers of meat were lined up on ice like soldiers ready for the grill, mounds of fresh vegetables in every shade of green, red, and yellow were prepped and ready to go, and noodles in a gigantic plastic tub awaited their turn in boiling water.

Nina watched the stallholders' activities as if they were a scene from a play unfolding before her eyes. She observed one of the older stallholders chopping on a cutting board at a million miles an hour and wondered how he hadn’t lost a finger in the process. Steam rose into the air in clouds and wafted in the door, carrying garlic, chilli, lemongrass, and other spices she couldn’t quite decipher – maybe ginger and basil.

She watched as a beautifully dressed woman in immaculate office clothes approached a stall, said something, and the man opened one of two huge teapots and peered in. He then poured hot water into a small plastic bag and began adding various toppings. Proceeding to expertly twist the bag, he tied an elastic band around the top and handed it over to the woman. Nina couldn’t get enough of all the curious little traditions that were playing out in front of her eyes.

As the woman took her food and drink, she turned to what Nina had now worked out was a moped taxi rank. One of the riders, clad in bulky canvas trousers and an orange hi-vis waistcoat with a number on the back, jumped up, rammed a helmet on his head, changed a little number on a metallic board, and the woman hopped onto the back of the bike, sidesaddle and they zoomed off into the mental traffic. So nice.

Nina watched as another woman, similarly dressed in business attire, hustled up to the stall and placed her order. The scene unfolded again with the man opening the steaming teapot, stirring its contents, pouring the liquid into a plastic bag, and adding an assortment of toppings. He gave it a stir, twisted the bag, and secured it with an elastic band. Nina shook her head, wondering if she would ever be brave enough to try one of the concoctions from the stall. The woman handed over her money, took her bag of hot liquid, and walked away.

Nina sat for ages gazing at the street scene outside the window, comparing it to the deli in Lovely Bay with its variousspeakeasies and secret chowder recipes. What was occurring all around her was so different from Lovely Bay, it was almost as if she was on a different planet altogether.

She messaged Robby in Singapore.

Nina:Hey, how are you getting on?

Robby:Good. You?

Nina:Yeah, really good. Having such a nice time.