It's been a strange sort of coup.

Raveet Phull, a 23-year-old British backpacker from Northampton, can hardly believe he's just lived through a major political upheaval.

He arrived in Bangkok on the day of the coup, but says he barely saw a soldier. Many ordinary Thais agree with him. They have shrugged their shoulders and carried on as normal.

But if there has been no drama on the streets, behind the scenes there has been plenty. Thailand, the West's main ally in south-east Asia, is not a democracy any more, but a military dictatorship. The junta that now runs the country is busy doing away with civil liberties, and foreign investors are beginning to think twice about putting their money in Thailand.

On Tuesday, Thailand woke up to an ordinary day. Phull flew in from Vietnam, and headed for the backpacker district, Khao San Road. "In the evening I had a few beers and then went online to chat to my girlfriend and parents, " he says. "I took a quick look at the BBC site and saw they were saying there was a coup." There was no sign of trouble in Khao San. Phull was "scared but also a little excited".

The internet cafe began to fill up as rumours spread around the city.

"Some people said they'd seen tanks and the Thais began to look agitated." Outside, government buildings had been surrounded, a news blackout was ordered, and television stations were broadcasting patriotic songs. As the night wore on, it became clear the Prime Minister, Thaksin Shinawatra, who was abroad, had been overthrown, and the army was now in charge.

The next morning, Phull got up early and went back to the internet cafe. "Khao San is usually a chaotic scrum filled with taxi and tuk-tuk touts, but everything was strangely subdued, " he says. "The news sites were giving conflicting reports so I decided to stick to Khao San: I felt a bit apprehensive." In fact, there was very little going on in the streets. Thais were crowding around their televisions:

every 20 minutes or so there was a new proclamation from the generals.

Public meetings of more than five people were banned. Television stations were told not to broadcast anything "harmful".

Foreign news channels were blacked out the moment they mentioned Mr Thaksin. Former ministers were being "taken care of", said the coup leader, General Sondhi Boonyaratglin.

As Thais saw the situation was calm, they began to venture back on to the streets . . . as did Phull. By Thursday, life had returned to normal in Bangkok, despite worries just beneath the surface. One Thai businessman phoned a TV show to say he had lost a £250m international deal because of the coup, but the generals told the networks not to air any more such comments.

The reaction of many other Thais, however, was the same as the British tourists: to treat the coup as a photo-opportunity. Phull said: "The people at the tourist office were even making jokes about it. 'Go to the Grand Palace and you get two for one - tanks and palace!'"