Newley Purnell

A and I just got back to Bangkok after four days at the beach in Railay. It was a magnificent trip.

(Yes, as I’ve noted before, my life is so trying here in Bangkok that I require frequent therapeutic trips to the coast in order to maintain my sanity.)

I will shut up and let the photos — all 49 of them — speak for themselves.

Here’re a few of my faves.

The view from our deck

The beach (a stone’s throw — no, toss) from our house

Our house

On the beach

A football tournament

One of the many karsts (towering limestone formations) that surround the beach

A friendly beach dog

And finally, if you’ll allow me to indulge my inner artiste, a pic of a drop of rain on a rusty chain.

In my most recent Gridskipper post, I examine Bangkok’s Pickle Factory. (It’s a pizza joint — get your minds outta the gutter.)

By the way, big congrats to my former editor at Gridskipper, Chris Mohney, who was recently promoted to managing editor of another Nick Denton property, the famed Manhattan media gossip blog Gawker. A hearty welcome to new Gridskipper editor Joshua David Stein.

I won’t be posting anything until Wednesday of next week. When I do resume my ramblings herein, however, I’ll have lots of photos to share. Let’s just say that. Bye for now, mis amigos.

10 useful tips from Matthew Stibbe, who writes, “When I am up against a deadline and I absolutely, definitely have to get on with my work, I use a few tactics to force myself to concentrate…”

I would accomplishing nothing without #7.

Italy are through to the World Cup final. In what will go down as one of the finest finishes ever in a WC knockout game, Italy scored two gorgeous goals in the dying minutes of extra time to book a place in Sunday’s championship match. I was down on Italy going into this match; they’re often overly defensive and boring to watch.

But last night they played upbeat, positive, attacking football — and in the 119th minute, just sixty seconds from full-time, when even the never-say-die Germans seemed resigned to settling the affair with penalties, Fabio Grosso — a full back! — received the pass of the tournament from Andrea Pirlo and curled a wonderful first-time, left-footed strike just inside the far post, past a sprawling Jens Lehmann. When Alessandro Del Piero finished the game off with a chip over the German goalkeeper in the next minute, it was game set and match. Absolutely incredible stuff.

Kudos to Germany coach Jurgen Klinsmann for showing true leadership, doing things his way throughout the competition and then picking his fallen players up off the field after the final whistle. (I’m honored to have him as a US resident.) Lehman was fantastic throughout the tourney; Buffon was brilliant in the opposing goalmouth and Italy couldn’t have won without him.

Tonight: France take on Portugal. I like the sound of a France-Italy final.

Economist: “Come to sunny Colombia: Seriously, it’s almost safe.”

I never made it there during my year in Ecuador, though I really wanted to go. Everyone I’ve ever talked to who’s visited says it’s great. (Just stay away from the FARC-held regions.)

Wayne Rooney has issued a statement claiming that his now-infamous crotch stomp was unintentional. I invite you to watch this and judge for yourself (the video clip contains some hilarious Chinese commentary, by the way.) Why not just repent already? The public will forgive Rooney his youthful indiscretions. Somebody’s giving the kid some very bad advice.

So I went to The Bull’s Head, a venerable Bangkok pub, to watch the England-Portugal match; the 150 or so English supporters in attendance were excited, hopeful, nervous, and then dejected, all in that order. Unbelievable game. Finished 0-0 after 120 minutes of regulation and extra time and then England absolutely imploded in the penalties, making just 1 of 4 attempts. The Portugese goalkeeper Ricardo single-handedly won the game for his side, saving Lampard and Gerrard and Carragher.

There were tears — Becks, a la Gazza in ‘90, limped off injured and collapsed on the sideline, his finely-chiseled facial features contorted into a rictus of sadness as he downright blubbered and blubbered and blubbered. Holy crap. There was also rage, with Wayne Rooney stomping on an opponent’s crotch and the getting a red card. (Rooney proved that he has a long way to go to reach his full potential; he must harness his temper if he wants to improve as a player.)

On the subject of penalties: As a goalkeeper myself — and occasional penalty saver — I love the institution of penalty kicks, though the cliche is that they’re a terrible way to decide a game. I disagree. I think that for the penalty takers, the act demands skill and concentration and inner calm. Penalties are not simply a lottery; you have to have five good players who can step up and take them and take them well. And you need a goalkeeper with the ability to produce a fine save here and there.

In Saturday’s other match, France beat Brazil 1-0, which was perhaps the shock of the tournament so far, as everyone (including yours truly) thought the Brazilians would sleepwalk though to the final. Sadly, I didn’t see the match, since the police in Bangkok have been cracking down on bars staying open late past the official 1 a.m. curfew; I was, thus, stranded and had to follow the match online. Which was too bad.

Related: The game theory of penalty kicks.

Up next, the semis: Germany vs Italy tomorrow, followed by France-Portugal on Wednesday. This’ll be the first time since 1982 that all four semifinalists are European squads.