Pattaya Beach has managed in recent years to earn itself the unfortunate nickname "Patpong by the sea", due to the really quite unlikely number of Go-Go bars and strip joints that have suddenly sprung up at the southern end of the strip. This is actually a bit unfair, since you could almost certainly say the same thing about any number of other destinations around the world which people regularly call home for weeks of the year. It depends where you go, and what you go there looking for.

This seamier side of life in Pattaya has its roots back in the Second World War, when randy young sailors would pull into port looking for a good time. After months at sea, many of them had probably forgotten what a woman looked like and were quick to take advantage of all the hospitality they could get their grubby little hands on. These days, the Thai government is keen to play down this side of things and promote the beautiful beaches and family friendly resorts, with the result that all the more exotic pleasures Pattaya has to offer have been forced down to the far end of the strip where most people can safely ignore them. The problem with this approach, however, is that Pattaya now has two distinct worlds at each end of the beach - one wholesome and family oriented and the other, well, not so much. If you're going to come here with your husband, you might want to put him on a leash - nobody has yet invented a way of installing parental controls onto a beach resort.

Again, my travel agent back in England seems to have checked me into three days of unashamed luxury, courtesy of the Dusit Thani hotel group. She must've fancied me or something, 'cos I'm pretty sure I can't have paid for any of this. My hotel invoice describes this thing on the other side of my window as an ocean view, but for once this is something of an understatement. Usually, when a holiday brochure describes a room as having an ocean view, what they actually mean is that the ocean is hidden behind the skyscraper across the road or that it's only visible with the aid of high powered binoculars. In this case, however, I'm absolutely certain that the only thing preventing me from seeing all the way home is the horizon - I had to lean over the balcony and look down just to make sure that the building wasn't actually floating in the sea. As it turns out, there's a swimming pool directly under my balcony - as though there isn't enough water out there already - and in a fantastic display of flamboyance only possible in a country where they routinely leave flowers on your pillow every morning and then fold the towels into the shape of pointy swans with which you can poke your eyes out when reaching for them in the dark, the pool has a huge flower engraved into the bottom of it for no apparent reason other than to give people in passing helicopters something to talk about.

I went out. It was mid afternoon so I figured I would take a leisurely stroll around the bay and see what Pattaya had to offer. I acquired a local map from reception and set off along the sea front. The trouble is, there was no scale on the map - Pattaya beach is a two mile bay, at either end of which are the main places of interest in the area, one of which is full of happy smiling families and the other contains so much neon that people in Las Vegas have started to turn green with envy. I strolled along, the sun beaming at me across the water, and marvelled at the range of shops and stalls I was passing, selling a combination of Thai souvenirs and western delicacies such as donuts and pizza. I can't say that any of it felt particularly eastern - I could've been in any beach resort anywhere in the world. The Northern end of the strip, where I am staying, is very much aimed at the tourist in all of us, and if you don't visit Ripley's Believe It or Not museum or stop regularly for coffee and donuts then someone comes over and asks you if everything is okay. Restaurants displaying large signs advertising delicious food - what other type of food would you advertise - were everywhere, along with gem shops, souvenir stands and places promising me cheap TAT. TAT, of course, being the Thai Authority for Tourism. One place even wanted to offer me a physical massage. Surely all massages are physical, aren't they? Perhaps I should keep my eyes out for a sign advertising a surreal massage, where they send you home and encourage you to lay on your bed imagining that somebody is stroking you with a kipper.

After what seemed like about three weeks of walking, I finally got a grip on my senses and decided that it was just too hot to be attempting such a trek during daylight hours. I arrived back at the hotel doing a pretty good impression of a large bucket of sweat, and enquired at reception as to whether there was any other way of getting further along the beach road.

"Have you tried our fitness centre, Sir?" the receptionist replied.

About Simon and Burfords Travels:

Simon Burford is a UK based travel writer. He will be re-publishing his travel blogs, chapters from his books and other miscellaneous rantings on these pages over the coming weeks and months, and the entry on this page may not necessarily reflect todays date.