What's Wrong With This Picture?

What you can’t see in the photo was what we could hear. As spectacularly perfect as the house was (note use of the past tense), right next door, an excavator had just begun jack hammering out a flat spot in the mountain. We pulled in the driveway to the ear splitting sounds above, and a pervasive smell of diesel. Nice.

So, we didn’t even upack, less the bathing suits and swim vests as seen in the photos from yesterday. Interestingly enough, something similar had happened to us in St. John a few years back. Hope was just the wee-est of wee babies (about three months old and just starting to sleep through the night) when we packed it up for a week on what had been Jeff’s and my favorite island. St. John has three really key things going for it (a) it’s inaccessible to cruise ships (no deep ports) (b) inaccessible to planes (no airport), and it is something like 75% National Park (thanks to one of the Rockefeller’s who fell in love with it fifty years ago, bought it up and deeded it back to the U.S. as a National Park). When Jeff and I first ventured there in 2000, it was still quite quiet.  Over the intervening years, it has gotten more built up, and we would make a note with each trip as the quiet serenity we loved eroded a little bit further. The advent of Kenny Chesney and his entourage (nothing against the guy, really, but famous people are anathema to quiet spots, don’t you think?) was not a plus in our book. Anyway, we had been quite a few times, and took Hope for her maiden voyage.

We rented the absolute perfect house. The layout was spectacular, the views were fabulous, it was beautifully quiet and we were so delighted. Until we tried to run the water. The house had been newly renovated and we were the very first people to grace its presence. However, when “they,” whoever “they” were who did the renovation, finished the stone patio outside, they somehow managed to close off the egress point for gray water. There was no drainage from the kitchen sink or dishwasher. None. Imagine having a two year old human, a three month old human and no way to wash dishes. And all the stuff in the kitchen backed up. I washed dishes in the bathtub for a bit there, just to tide us over. Not the best way to kick off a peaceful, quiet vacation. 

So, we packed it up and moved to the only other empty house on the island deemed “child friendly.” It was also a nice house. Which turned out to be right next to a major construction project where an excavator with a jackhammer worked from the wee hours of the morning until dark. We finally gave up, packed it up and headed back to the cold winter weather, grateful at least to have reasonably working plumbing and quiet once again. It makes you wonder, doesn’t it, that we ever go anywhere?

Anyway, so when we pulled into the driveway at our perfect house on Koi Samui and heard the jackhammer at 8:30 on Saturday morning, we told the children not to get too comfortable, dropped them in the pool and got on the phone. It took a few hours, but shortly after lunch, we were on our way to House #2, henceforth to be known as The Hollywood House. For reasons that I shall grandly elucidate.

Vacation House, Take 2: Welcome to Hollywood!

Now, when I describe the house as “Hollywood,” I am talking about Hollywood, circa 1998. Like, Ben Affleck and Matt Damon before they got hitched and had cute kids (oh, wait, did they get hitched first, or have the kids first?? Who can keep track??). I’m talking the George Clooney, Brat Pack, Hollywood ick. No, wait, I meant ilk—really, I mean ilk.  I’ll cut to the chase: the house came with r-lling p-pers(1).

The house is unbelievably magnificent, but designed as though humans sprang forth at LDA(2) ready to party. Not as though they lived through a stage where they might be a little unsteady on their pins and slip four stories through small opens. Or even large, architecturally beautiful, but potentially tragic from a human loss of life openings. I know, you’re wondering why I didn’t just buy ear protection for the lot of us and head back to House # 1.

Mostly, because House #1 was really, really noisy. Tom and Hope are pretty good at following directions, so while the house was frankly undesirable from a child good-health and maintenance standpoint, it was seemed to be the lesser of two evils.  And it was our only other option.  

Stairs leading up to the bedrooms. No kidding.

To describe the Hollywood House: the pool is at the lowest level. At least, I think it is. It is possible there is a lower level where the staff lives. Oh, yes, of course, it comes with a staff. Please! This is the sort of house that cries out for a staff! At pool level there is a bathroom, a complete staff kitchen, dining area for a dozen and, of course, the pool. It’s a nice infinity pool that overlooks the airport. And most of the island. The views are pretty spectacular, even from way, way down there.

The pool from above. I can seriously imagine Renee Zellweger hanging out here. Me, not so much.

The next level up is the main living area, with the day kitchen, dining area, and in a separate building, there is a single bedroom. Please note, no bathroom. Like I said, nobody was thinking “three year old human requires potty break, stairs, particularly steep ones with no handrails, are a bad idea” when they built this place. The next level up as the main bedrooms –there are three of them and each has their own bathroom. Jeff and I took one and we set the children up in another, leaving two more empty. Palatial. Like I said, George and all of his pals could spend a week here and never see each other.

So, while it is sub-optimal in many ways, and super-opulent in ways that aren’t all that relevant for us, we’re settling in. The island is really pretty special, with some seemingly beautiful beaches and really lovely tropical areas. Details at some other point: I’ll try and post tomorrow, but writing really does cut into family time, so I’ll do what I can, but not promises on “daily” while we’re here. I do have some neat photos, so maybe I do a quick montage without too much verbiage.

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(1) There are some things one just does not want "Google-able" from one's blog.
(2)    Legal Drinking Age: one assumes you know this, but I hate to let a joke go over anyone’s head, and I personally think this one is pretty funny. Sorry if it’s a blinding glimpse of the obvious.

Comments

[Ann]

Thank you for saving me from having to look up "LDA" - I was trying to work out something involving "Latter Day Saints"... CLEARLY on the wrong path there. So your explanation was not in vain.

Having grown up in New Hampshire, where our swimming pool consisted of a plastic, above ground, rectangular thing mainly used by suicidal squirrels and chipmunks during the 3 weeks in July when the weather was warm enough that we could convince our parents it was warm enough to swim... I had to look up "infinity pool". And found, on Wikipedia, this gem:

****
One quite significant restriction to the design is that the pool is not particularly "child friendly" as typical behaviour by children using pools is by "bombing" the pool, creating as much splash and wave action as possible. Obviously this would cause premature evacuation of the pool water, as the resulting waves surged over the weir. For this reason, "vanishing edge" pools are usually installed in homes that have limited access for—or at least very well-controlled—children.
****

Are we surprised?

I hope you don't experience too much premature evacuation during your vacation. That would be sad.

[Debbie]

Just curious Ellen....do you request homes with 1960s Rat-Pack Vegas decor or are you just lucky???? :)

[Jennie (Kementari)]

"Premature evacuation" sounds quite unpleasant...

(I had to look up "infinity pool," too, as the only definition I was familiar with was one of those treadmill-type pools - which would be even LESS appropriate for wee children!)

[Ellen]

Debbie, we are cheese magnets. ;-)

Premature evacuation?!?!? I love Wiki!! I worry more about losing Hope, though, as Tom sets up a little wave action, I'm always a little concerned she's going to wash over the edge.

[Faith]

Ok, now i'm horrified! It IS a drop into nothing!!!! AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!

[Faith]

oh, i see. The children are wearing parachutes...

[Ellen]

HA! It's not exactly a drop into nothing. Not precisely a drop into nothing. There is a little shelf about ten feet down that the water splashes into so it can be recycled. So not TOTALLY nothing. Just, mostly. Nothing.

Infinity pools are really pretty. And not at all terrifying if you are splashing around. A little worrisome I suppose if you are really worried about losing a kid over the edge, but Tom is pretty big now, and Hope has, ahem, a low-ish center of gravity. ;-)

[Rodneyssaga.wordpress.com]

A post-party Hollywood guest would have even more trouble with those stairs than a three-year-old human - or was that just my college days?