In Thailand, Phuket is known as the default southern destination. The south is full of dreamy-looking islands and a magnet for those into scuba diving. I, myself am not much of a scuba diver, for two reasons. One, I've never been rich. Scuba diving is like photography, oil painting, snow skiing, etc., where you have to invest quite a bit of money just to be involved. I hate shit like that. One great thing about Thailand is that I've been able to fairly easily afford oil paint here, since it's about 1/5 the price it is back in the U.S. Well, everything is about 1/5 the price it is back home, which is why, maybe one day I will be able to scuba dive. The second reason I don't scuba dive is that I have a suffocation phobia. No kidding. I'm actually beating it, and I think I'm almost over it, but it's taken my whole life. This will show up anywhere on day 2 in Phuket which comes later.
I decided on Phuket for a couple reasons. One, it's kind of like living in NYC and never going to the Empire State Building or living in Paris and never going to Louvre or going to the top of the Eiffel Tower. I've never been much of a beach person, since I find that I get quickly bored sitting on a beach, and I tend to burn...quite painfully....despite lavish applications of SPF 10,000. But, I won't be in Thailand forever, and my mother who is coming several months for now, has refused to go to any island location, preferring the dangerous and exciting-sounding "Burma" as her choice.
When I told my friends I was heading to Phuket, they kind of wrinkled their noses and went, "Eww." Not because Phuket is gross, but like any "native" who lives in Thailand, it's kind of an undesirable place to go. Someone who really knows Thailand doesn't go to Phuket! Phuket, full of white faces, Thai prostitutes, its massive over-development geared toward the dollar-clutching tourist. Those who REALLY know, go to the more remote areas, those with the mosquito net and the fan for lodging, those where there are no white faces (save their own) to be seen, those places that are more "pristine."
Whatever! You know, call me what you will, but I do like things to be a LITTLE bit easy. Fuck, if I'm going to ride a bus for TWELVE hours to get to the damn place, I don't want to be welcomed by a straw hut that is never quite cool enough, except when you're taking your ice-cold shower. I don't want to go to an island where the infrastructure is so thin, that there is nothing I can do with myself except..sit on the damn beach! I want to do stuff! And I need the organization to be set up to allow me to do that. I don't care that that view is not popular, especially with the backpackers. Well, that's FINE, because to me, a backpacker is only a nasty hippie with giant bag strapped to its body. They pinch pennies in such a way, when it comes to accomodation and food, that even Thais go, "Damn, what's wrong with these people?" I met someone once who produced a popular map in Bangkok. He said that it never did sell well on Khao San road (this is the mecca of all backpackers in Bangkok, teeming with them getting drunk and getting their hair braided or made into dreadlocks - ugh!). This mapmaker once said, "I don't get it, they won't spend $2 for my map, but they'll spend sixty fucking dollars for beer." There you go. I don't want to hang out with these people. I'd rather be a snob with my air conditioning (usually only $5-10 more in cost), and go on an organized excursion.
And that's what I did. Hour after I arrived I had already been picked up by a minivan (a really mini van, not one of those fantastically disgusting monsters that lumber all over the roads in American suburbia) and was happily bouncing up and down the hills toward the Phuket Riding Club. When I get to a new tourist destination, there are two things I always want to see more than anything: dolphins or horses. I know, sounds silly, but it's true. I love to ride horses, though I'm not very good at it. And dolphins to me are just a magical, wonderful animal. In New Zealand I "swam with dolphins," in water so cold, that it gave me instant images of the sinking Titanic. Incredible experience.
So, there I was, galloping down the beach like a 19th century European heroine. Hair streaming in the wind, (well, I was wearing a helmet), and my skirt flowing behind me (I was wearing jeans). It was exciting, though frightening. With each step, my tourist bag banged into me with such force, that it distracted me from the romantic imagery floating through my mind. (At this moment I still have two scabs on my hand to show for it). At some point, after a particularly energetic gallop, I looked down and noticed that one section of my touristy-bag was completely unzipped, apparently from the fervor of my horse's run. Whatever had been in there, was now, GONE! *gasp* I frantically started unzipping the other pockets (these tourist bags have 55 zippered pouches each), to see what was missing (#1 in my mind, my money!). Well, no, my money was there, my disposible camera was okay, and even my sunglasses were there.
Phew!
Wait a minute...the two receipts for excursions I had already paid for seemed to be gone. Well, that was not good, but it wasn't a total tragedy. My receipts were only receipts, they still knew I was going. Still, my guide and I retraced ourselves carefully, despite the fact that the tide was now coming in and had advanced quite a bit in the short time we'd gone by. Sadly, no receipts. Ahh well.
An hour or so later, with my first sunburn (arms and face), I was deposited at my bungalow and felt pretty good. I opened my bag to get out my wallet and... you know what comes next. Gone! My wallet had been in that pocket that had emptied itself somewhere on the Phuket beach! *sob* Not only was a bit of money in there, but more importantly, my ATM card (argh) and my driver's license, which believe it or not, was good until the year 2038! Losing one's ATM card is never a warm and fuzzy feeling, not to mention I would spend $40 in phone calls to the US canceling it hours later. I had called back the horse ranch, asking the guide to retrace our steps again, this time looking for my tiny black wallet (my wallets always resemble the kind men stick in their back pockets, not the giant beasts women tend to carry). The young guide said he couldn't find it...damn damn damn.
Is that the end of the story? Well, no. I did have the ATM card for my savings account, so I was not left high and dry. That night, burnt and dejected from the missing wallet, I showered and headed toward a very nice restaurant. I tend to spend money to make myself feel better (big surprise), and a wonderful meal was just what I needed. The restaurant, Sala Bua, was just what I needed. Sitting on the beach, with warm lighting and beautiful wooden furniture, and best of all, fantastic food. The meal was almost perfect until.... *ring ring ring* The horse guide was phoning me. Maybe they found my wallet! I answered the phone and soon realized that no, he had not found my wallet, but he had found a discotheque and was very interested in showing it to me. Oh, just great. Now, my Thai isn't fantastic on my best day, and here in the South, it was even more difficult to understand. Of course, after a long and painful conversation where I must have said, "I don't understand you" in Thai, about 12 times, I got the gist of it all, and kind of panicked. I did NOT want to go out with this guy, but if I was a bitch and spurned him, would I ever get that precious wallet back? Finally, the phone call ended, but that was not the end of it. Again and again my phone flashed "HORSE" (what I had programmed into the phone to identify the horse guide's calls). I answered the phone three more times before I told him (again and again in my unimpressive Thai) that I was NOT alone, I was with a friend, and yes, he was a boy. Finally, HORSE stopped calling...at least until the next day, when he made one last ditch effort at midnight. That time, I didn't answer.
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