TRAVELING IN STYLE : A ROYAL RETREAT : Thailand’s Hua-Hin, a mere 150 miles from Bangkok, is the epicenter of a blessed time warp, a pristine resort with a pedigree reaching back to the first decades of this century when it became a playground for Siam’s kings

I count myself among those hedonists of travel who seek out still-evocative and unique enclaves of sea, sky and earth, especially since I presently reside in the concrete zoo known as Bangkok, where gridlock is as much an accepted lifestyle as it is in Southern California. When my lungs are about to collapse, I hasten 150 miles southwest of Bangkok to the fishing community of Hua-Hin, the ultimate escape hatch in Thailand.

I say hasten not to be unduly apocalyptic but because the secret of this quiet seaside resort--despite 79 years of modesty and nonaggrandizement--is now definitely out of the bag. Sophisticated travelers who have sated themselves with Bangkok--such discriminating folk as film producer David Putnam (“Chariots of Fire”) and the English director Roland Joffee (“The Killing Fields”)--are exponentially bypassing the more publicized second-stop destinations in Thailand--over-crowded Pattaya, over-priced Phuket, over-praised Chiang Mai--for the immutable tranquillity of unspoiled Hua-Hin.

During any given week, the majority of tourists to be found blissed out on Hua-Hin’s powdery beaches are primarily European--mostly French, German and English. Affluent Thai families pop down on weekends in their Mercedes sedans or Beamers. Inexplicably, the Americans have not yet landed. Most are more apt to be dutifully checking off the list of must-sees in Bangkok and are thus missing out on the meaning of pure relaxation.

In Thai hua means head and hin means stone , producing in tandem the somewhat ominous English inscription headstone . The actual translation is Stone Head, the local name for Takiab Hill, a dominating coastal escarpment angled into the Gulf of Thailand at the southern tip of what must certifiably be one of the planet’s longest uninterrupted strands of beach.

If you station yourself on the peak of Takiab Hill, you can gaze with stunned serenity toward a distant, blurred point 39 miles to the north, where this incredible beach finally vanishes from sight somewhere beyond Phetchaburi. Getting up to the stony summit of this Gibraltar-like promontory is not for the irregular of heart. You have to leave the beach and climb up 100 steps--maybe 120, maybe 96 or 97--I was breathing so hard on the way up I lost count. Once on the ridge, your reward is an unforgettable vista of white sand--and the challenge of temple monkeys who jounce around you impatiently as they wait for you to feed them clusters of tiny bananas available from opportunistic vendors.

From this vantage point I found it easy on my first visit to conjure up a vision of Joseph Conrad sailing along this shoreline as master of the Otago, his first command, 100 years ago. I’m certain that what he saw then is what I’m seeing now: the straight line of the flat Thai shore joined to the unruffled gulf as though stapled, edge to edge, with a perfect, unmarked closeness; one leveled floor, half brown, half apple green, under the enormous dome of a sky streaked with lenticular clouds created by swift winds racing at high altitude above the Tanao Sri Range.

The miracle of Hua-Hin is that it has remained pristine despite the fact it was Thailand’s first resort, with a pedigree reaching back to the first decade of this century when it became a royal playground.

Pattaya, on the eastern side of the gulf, has come full-blown in only the past 10 years and is currently struggling to overcome a negative-impact world press critical of chronic water shortages, polluted beaches and wall-to-wall bars, not to mention occasional lurid accounts of European tourists found dead of drug overdoses in steamy sub-soi hotels.

Phuket, located to the south on an island of the same name, is well on its way to overdevelopment--all in the past five years.

Chiang Mai, north of Bangkok, has sprouted a skyline and generated traffic congestion in the past two.

Yet Hua-Hin remains blessedly within its own time warp. The luxury hotels and beachfront condos that have recently been--or are presently being--built are judiciously spaced along that boundless stretch of beach; they appear not at all invasive. On the contrary, they provide the world-class amenities today’s travelers demand, and in the case of Hua-Hin, these amenities have been made available with thought for the environment and the area’s perpetual low-key charm.

How to account for this? As in other developing nations in Southeast Asia, Thailand suffers at the hands of opportunists, both Thai nationals and foreign businessmen, people compelled to chain-saw the last of the country’s teak forests or to undermine its soil for salt. Outcries from environmentalists seem not to have halted this obsessive encroachment upon Thailand’s natural beauty. Protest and debate there are, certainly. One top minister recently predicted that unless the predators were stopped, the country could become a desert in two decades. But there appears to be little positive action to arrest the dismantling process.

So how does Hua-Hin manage to go its own graceful, unruffled way, dancing the minuet while everyone else is writhing to the beat of the lambada ?

One answer may lie in the reverence of the Thai people toward their king and queen. The reigning monarch, King Bhumibol, and his Queen Sirikit spend time each summer at their palace in Hua-Hin. During their stay, they visit villages and inspect royalty-sponsored co-op and development projects that they have initiated. It would be unseemly and quite un-Thai to despoil Camelot with the kind of garish high jinks that so enlivens Pattaya. The very countryside around the summer palace reflects this sensitivity and decorum, and indeed the randy foreigner looking for companionship will be frustrated to find only one “full-body” massage parlor in all of Hua-Hin and this--with the un-Thai-like name of Petch Barber--tucked well away down a dead-end soi .

Another answer to Hua-Hin’s resolute preservation can be found in its history. In December, 1911, King Rama VI was crowned in Bangkok before a gathering of more European bluebloods than had ever before graced an Asian coronation. Royalty from Sweden, Russia and England were stumbling all over their ermine capes, but once the ceremonies were done, the king’s brother, Prince Chakrabongse, and the prince’s Russian wife gathered up the European young bloods and whisked them south into a wild countryside in search of tiger. A royal encampment was set up on in the province of Prachusbkhirkhan, a site from which the happy campers could sip Champagne and savor the awesome sunrises or sally westward for game into the mountainous divide between Thailand and Burma.

The prince and his wife became so enamored of the old fishing village planked into the foot of Takiab Hill that they ordered a villa built, one that stands to this day behind a seawall on the northern extremity of Hua-Hin’s gentle beach. Others among Siam’s high society soon followed the prince’s example and acquired beachfront property on which to build mansions as retreats from Bangkok’s sultry trinity--March, April and May.

Hua-Hin’s prominence was further accelerated by the completion of the Southern Railroad linking Bangkok to the Malaysian border. Prince Purachatra, director general of the state railways, built an elegant Victorian hotel in Hua-Hin, quite properly named the Railway Hotel, with two low wings extending toward the beachfront, space enough between them for gardens alive with fanciful topiary, long verandas laced with fretwork and everywhere wicker chairs into any one of which you can easily picture Somerset Maugham settling down to sip his iced coconut water.

Eventually the king himself became entranced with Hua-Hin. In July, 1927, artisans completed his summer palace. It was given the languid name Klai Klangwol, which in English means “far from worries,” a somewhat overly optimistic claim, it turned out, for in 1932, the king, while in residence in Hua-Hin, learned that 700 years of absolute monarchy had come crashing down in a bloodless coup d’etat . In his absence from Bangkok, the army, together with powerful civilian leaders, had installed a constitutional monarchy. It was thus at Hua-Hin that a Siamese king was first compelled to accept historical imperative--and to “chill out.”

The Thais call this condition sabai-sabai . Grin and bear it. Relax. Go with the flow. Lie back and watch the clouds. Of all places in Thailand, Hua-Hin is the epicenter of sabai-sabai .

Unlike so many other tourist sites in the country, the area remains vigorously Thai. Because of this, days and nights spent there seem charged with a never-ending potential for sensory bombardment, yet nothing strident, to be sure. Mystical possibilities hover everywhere, like beckoning Tinkerbells. Without listening, one hears from every quarter the grace notes of the unexpected.

Recently, driving to a temple for an appointment with a Buddhist priest--yes, one does make appointments for such consultations--my wife and I were startled by what sounded very much like gongs, yet we were still nowhere near the temple. Suddenly we discovered, advancing toward us along the shoulder of a modern highway, a procession from the past, yet moving in present time--a young monk holding lotus buds is being led on horseback by attendants afoot, all part of an ordination ceremony the Thais call buat naak . Girls in traditional costumes and golden, spired headdress glide like puffs of perfume ahead of the monk. Musicians and dancers frolic, some to a disco beat, at the point of the column and ignore the whipping dust and exhaust fumes of passing trucks. Long before trucks existed, processions like this one moved this way, intent solely upon their own purposes, not as programmed entertainment for tourists. My wife and I shared this pristine event with particular relish because we knew that what we had witnessed was a routine and common event in the lifetimes of the Thai country people. For us, their ordinary was our extraordinary, and it is this kind of paradox I seem more able to find in Hua-Hin than in any other part of Thailand.

Effortlessly, Hua-Hin exposes the everyday fabric of Thai country living. You can take it or leave it because it is not there for your sake. It is there because it has been there as long as Buddha’s teachings have been there, and it will be there for as long as anyone can imagine time will run. It is aware of you, accepts you, even welcomes you, but does so gently, not appearing to wish to exploit you, nor wishing you to exploit it. The consequence of all this is that one comes to feel a cessation of time in Hua-Hin. Since time is a concept of man, man can stretch it if he chooses, and stretch it they do in Hua-Hin, where all the inclination to frantic activity drops magically from your shoulders as you relinquish yourself to the liberation of languor.

Stroll through the night market. You will not be hassled nor importuned as you are in Bangkok. You may buy or not buy, as you wish. The limitless varieties of fruits and Thai delicacies may burden you with an overload of choices, so my secret is to go after dinner when my belly is full and I can address myself to the aesthetics, not to the opportunities of pigging out.

Or walk out on the pier around 7 p.m. when the fishing boats come heeling in. I am always amazed by how muted everything sounds. Even the village women haggling over fish and squid negotiate in soft tones. The pock-pock-pock of trawler engines is borne seaward with the offshore breeze. The harshest sound I’ve ever heard here is the slush of ice sluicing down long funnels from the trucks servicing outgoing fishing vessels. As the night lowers, overhead lights along the pier are switched on and you glide through pools of alternating light and dark like a two-toned ghost doing nothing, absolutely nothing, but drifting along the pier.

For travelers unable to surrender themselves to indolence--an inability from which, happily, I do not suffer--there are activities in Hua-Hin to keep even the most hyper in full boost. The flurries of activity are, of course, centered in Hua-Hin’s three major hotels, where tennis courts and swimming pools, windsurfing boards, catamarans and water-ski equipment are available. If these are not enough to pack your day, the hotels will arrange boat trips to nearby Singto Island or send you deep-sea fishing, a slight misnomer in this instance, since the Gulf of Thailand is a remarkably shallow body of water, not more than 250 feet deep at its deepest point. Or Jeeps can be rented for the drive to Pala-u Waterfall, 38 miles west into the mountains shared by Thailand and Burma. If you’re into trekking, proceed 10 miles north of Hua-Hin, then hang a left and continue west into the settling sun and you will find yourself at Kang Krachan Dam, within the most extensive of Thailand’s national parks. The careful observer might even spot a lugubrious slow loris clinging to a branch. Other trekkers might hear an exotic barking sound. Probably barking deer. Or the voice of a tiger. But then the rewards of trekking are these occasional rushes of adrenaline.

In Hua-Hin, the historic Railway Hotel, renovated and renamed the Hotel Sofitel Central Hua-Hin, retains a hushed and almost reverential aura of history. Its Victorian ambience and rustling ceiling fans pull you back the moment you enter the vast lobby, to an earlier time. Whenever I truly need to stop the world and get off, I plant myself in a fan-back wicker chair, look out to the Gulf past the fanciful shrubbery of the Sofitel’s inner grounds, let a double vodka on the rocks work its inevitable spell and wonder who sat here before me. The echoes of well-turned phrases from another day seem to resonate from the walls. Dazzling ladies seem to descend from the gracious central staircase. I have had such fancies in other long-famous hotels: the Imperial in Vienna, the Hassler in Rome. If tradition is high on your list, the Sofitel is not to be missed.

Nearby, to the south, is the Royal Garden Resort, which attracts a trendier crowd. The Resort abounds with restaurants and pool-side buffets, not the least of which is the Italian Pavilion, a beachfront layout specializing in fresh seafood. Top of the line at the Resort are its coveted seventh-floor suites, each with a private, screened-off rooftop veranda and outdoor Jacuzzi, where one (or more, depending on one’s luck) can cavort in unbridled nakedness without fear of being observed.

Back up the beach, some three miles north of its sister hotel, the Resort, is my favorite haven in all of Thailand: the Royal Garden Village. Truly a restorative oasis, it has 162 deluxe rooms on 14 acres of beachfront. Here the architecture is authentic Thai, so that the hotel appears to have risen out of the palm trees. Every room has a balcony, and walkways lead the guests through landscaped gardens to an immense central swimming pool or directly onto the beach only a few yards away.

I questioned my instant enchantment when I first went to stay at the Village last year. Its owner is one of my new Bangkok friends. When my wife moved to Bangkok from Beverly Hills two years ago, we heard about an American who had grown up in Thailand and had become something of a legend--a tycoon when he was still in high school. Guy named Bill Heinecke. We met, and one afternoon he flew me down to Hua-Hin in his own plane to show me something he’s just finished building, the Royal Garden Village.

Was my delight in finding a truly Thai environment in the guise of a world-class resort genuine, or was I reacting to Bill’s hospitality? I’ve returned many times since--no Bill, no private plane--and each time the original magic awaited me. It could be the way the slender finials on the separate compounds lift toward the sunset sky. Or it could simply be that in the presence of such architectural grace I plug directly into Thai culture, a culture born of many elements, not least of which is the acknowledgement of universal divinity within people and things around you. I’ll take that any day over a state-of-the-art business center and a health club.

DETAILS

Getting there: From Los Angeles to Bangkok, only United has daily flights; other carriers are Japan Airlines, Korean Air, Delta, China Air, Northwest.

You can drive from Bangkok in three hours (or perhaps less, since most of the road has recently been widened and improved, this reducing the chances of going head-on with some wild trucker or racing bus driver, with whom Thailand roadways abound). Or travel by air-conditioned bus or by train, arriving at one of Asia’s most distinctive railroad stations; it boasts a separate Thai-style structure along the tracks--the royal waiting house.

Or you can catch Bangkok Airways’ 25-minute flight from Don Muang airport on Friday, Saturday and Sunday.

Where to stay: Royal Garden Resort, doubles $96-$108; suites $280-$380. Reservations: (800) 223-5652.

Royal Garden Village, 45 Phetkasem Beach Rd., Hua Hin 77110, Thailand. Tel. (032) 512-412 (or 413, 414, 415). Fax (032) 512-417. Or reservations may be made through the Bangkok office, 17 Sukhumvit Soi 11. Tel. (02) 255-8822 (or 8823, 8824, 8825). Fax (02) 254-1775. Rates: doubles $124-$128; $320 for suites.

Hotel Sofitel Central Hua-Hin, doubles $83-$92, suites $105. Reservations: (800) 223-5652.

Add 10% service charge and 11% tax to all hotel rates.

When to go: The best time to visit Hua-Hin is from mid-November through May.

For more information: Tourism Authority of Thailand, 3440 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 1101, Los Angeles 90016, (213) 382-2353.