from the first world to the end of the world and back

From memory (at) blank.org Tue May 22 13:55:25 2001
Date: Tue, 22 May 2001 08:19:43 GMT
From: "Nathan J. Mehl, Road Worrier" <memory (at) blank.org>
To: memory (at) blank.org
Subject: sunburn a go-go


So yesterday, or possibly it was the day before, Miranda and I achieved
some kind of weird colonial-era tourist nirvana: we were reclining on easy
chairs under an umbrella, on a pristine, spotless beach just 20 yards from
our little bungalow, listening to the surf crash and watching the few,
wispy clouds.  After a little bit, a young boy brought us a freshly opened
coconut and a very cold beer.

All we needed was a voice-over of a catchy tagline ("This is what life is
all about!" or perhaps "You can just taste it!") and an artful fadeout to a
logo, and et voila: one perfect beer commercial.  Someone call my agent...

Anyways, as you might have guessed, we're on Phuket.  (That's "poo-khet"
for you sniggerers in the audience.)  Phuket is actually an island large
enough to be a province onto itself, and its primary industries are sugar
farming and the rapid extraction of cash from many, many tourists.  I can't
vouch for the sugar, but as places to come spend money go, this is pretty
sweet.

But first, a flashback: our last two days in Chiang Mai.  On Saturday,
after send out my last missive, we wandered back to the hotel, where we
were picked up and driven out to our cooking lesson.  This being the low
season, there were only two other people there with us; a pair of American
lawyers who had both recently quit their jobs in Florida and were on an
extended wander before moving to Vancouver.  Our teacher was a young Thai
woman who we initially pegged to be about 14 years old, but who turned out
to be a recent college graduate who had just finished her apprenticeship
with the school's owner.   Oops.  

In any case, the class was about 5 hours, starting with a tour of a Thai
herb garden on the riverside, then going through the preparation of two
kinds of curries (red and panang), one basil dish, and several different
kinds of spring rolls.  We got to pound our own curry paste with stone
mortars and pestles, and then we were carefully led through the actual
cooking of the dishes.  At the end, we sat down and utterly failed to eat
all of the food we'd cooked: at three curries per person plus a small
mountain of spring rolls, we were quickly defeated.  But it was really,
really good, and I'm looking forward to doing a bit less ordering in of
Thai food when I get back.  

After the class, we were driven back to town by the school owner's husband,
who turned out to be a someone gruff Israeli man.  (Redundant, I'm aware.) 
After staggering into our hotel room for a little while to lie down and
digest, we got up and hit the nightmarket again, this time with much better
success than the previous night: I found a stall in one of the market
buildings selling handmade raw silk sheets for literally a fraction (I'm
guessing 1/32nd) of what they could cost in the states.  Found a few other
goodies as well.  The relative weakness of the baht against the dollar at
the moment makes this a very, very good country for a shopping spree.  I'm
going to have to find a Mailboxes Etc or the like in Amsterdam...

The next day we flew to Phuket.  Uneventful flight, touched down at the
airport and were driven to our hotel.

Our hotel deserves some mention in and of itself.  It's called the Chedi,
and was designed by american architect Edward Tuttle.  The design is
stunning: the complex is basically embedded on the side of a hill facing
the beach.  Each "room" is actually an individual bungalow on stilts,
connected by raised walkways.  At night, with the walkways lit up by small
recessed lights, it looks like a fairy village.  Each bungalow seems to
have a view of the ocean, and the trees are cunningly arranged so that you
can't see any more than your immediate neighbors in any direction.  There's
a central building with the restaurants, pools and hotel offices, most of
which is open-air, and the entranceway from the road is bracketed by a pair
of small triangular ponds which are filled with dozens of small, chirping,
colorful tropical frogs.

This place Fails to Suck with a vengence.

It's low season, so it's not at all full at the moment; I'd guess it's
currently at 1/3 capacity if even that.  Unfortunatly, low season means
that the beach, while beautiful, isn't good for much other than wading: the
tides are very, very rough, with 4-6 foot breakers not more than a dozen
yards offshore.  If I were a surfer, I'd probably be in hog heaven, but I'm
not, so we've contented ourselves with wading in the shallows and then
retreating to our chairs and books.  Or the hotel pool, which is huge,
hexagonal, and looks from a few feet away like a huge obsidian stone laid
flush with the floor.

Our first night, we took the hotel shuttle into the Patong Beach area,
which according to Lonely Planet is the center for nightlife on Phuket. 
The roads there were entertainingly twisty: on a motorcycle, this island
could be anywhere from very fun to very fatal.  Unfortunatly, most of the
"regular" nightlife (discos, legitimate bars, cafes) seems to be closed for
the low season.  We found this out the hard way when, after departing the
shuttle bus, we made a turn off the main road under a bright "Welcome to
Patong" sign and found ourselves, sigh, back in the Sleazy Sex Dimension. 
Bar after bar after go-go bar filled with tightly-dressed young Thai women
and the 55-year-old white men who love them.  The sketchiness factor was
actually significantly higher than in Patpong: you couldn't go more than a
couple of steps here without seeing a gaggle of gnarled men with one or
more bar girls in tow.  The winner without a doubt was the one sitting on a
barstool, attempting to nuzzle the face of his friend for the night:
unfortunatly, due to the difference in size and the somewhat weatherbeaten
nature of his face, it looked more like he was attempting to beat her to
death with his nose.

We did pass a number of legitimate-looking discos and restaurants with live
entertainment, but they were all mostly empty: I suspect that Patong is a
much different, and much better place during the high season.

On the plus side, we had a very good seafood dinner there at a small
restaurant a ways off the main strip, attended to mercilessly by the owner,
to whom I suspect we not only represented the first customers of the
evening, but a welcome relief from crushing boredom.

The other highlight of the night was, of all things, a Baskin Robbins,
which was stocked with a number of flavors you won't ever see in a
stateside BR: mangosteen sorbet, lychee sorbet and Thai Iced Tea flavor ice
cream.  As a small bonus, it had no bar girls or scary european men. 
Score!

Observation: I am, in theory, all in favor of sex work.  Go-go bars are
fine things, and I've had friends who've worked there, and friends who've
occasionally dabbled in both professional S&M work and outright
prostitution.  I think it should all be legal, carefully policed, and safe
for those who want to indulge.  All well and good, but my god are the
actual workings of the trade incredibly grim to watch.  Walking through the
bars in Patong Beach, Miranda commented that she wanted to grab the men and
demand to know how they could suspend their disbelief enough to actually go
through with any of it, and I have to concur.  

Prostitution, on the whole, would be a whole lot better without the johns.

Anyways, after about 2 hours of Patong Beach, we had had more than our
fill, and spent the rest of the time sitting at the pickup point with the
driver waiting for the rest of the guests to show up.  This didn't take
long: everybody showed up early.

Yesterday, we very happily spent at the hotel.  Slept in, showered, had a
late breakfast poolside, and spent the rest of the afternoon reading and
applying sunblock.  (I am, once again, the single palest person in a
50-mile or greater radius...oh, to be back in Iceland!)  In the evening, we
treated ourselves to a spin through the hotel spa, which involved being
rubbed down with oil and...herbal bits...and twigs I think?  Miranda
suspects yogurt in the mixture as well; all I know is that it took a while
to shower all the goop off.  Then relaxing in a rose-petal and
jasmine-flower filled tub (which was enlivened greatly by watching a pair
of tiny brown lizards attempt to chase down some of the small white moths
which kept dive-bombing into the water and back out) while drinking ginger
tea, and then an hourlong massage.  We then sort of floated back to the
restaurant, where we had a late dinner and then retired.

I could get into this "relaxation" thing.  If only they had poolside
internet service, it would be perfect.

Today we're exploring Phuket Town, which is where I'm writing this missive
from.  Most of the island so far seems like...well, pretty much what it is,
which is a series of small beach towns.  Any resident of the Jersey Shore
would probably find themselves pretty much at home here.  But we just
arrived in town about an hour ago and have been holing up in this internet
cafe in order to hide from the early afternoon sun, so that's not a very
informed impression so far...

Time to let Miranda use the computer.  I may or may not be able to write
once more from Thailand; tomorrow we go snorkling, then on Thursday we fly
for the Netherlands.

My love to all,

-n