Before you get somewhere, you can often tell how silly it's going to be from what the other passengers are like. All the signs on the way to Phuket were that it was going to be very silly indeed.
I wanted to go to southern Thailand. The only place in the south you can easily get to from Chiang Mai is Phuket. Getting to the mainland or to another island from Phuket takes a long time. And so, if you've only got a few days, or you're lazy, or unimaginative, or you haven't done much research -- or if all of those things are true -- you end up staying on Phuket, with all the other tourists who drifted here for the same reasons.
It was a 40 minute drive from the airport. There were plantations where rubber trees grew in neat rows, shabby tourist towns, and stretches of jungle. The jungle was lush and dense, and it encroached on cleared land wherever no one was actively fighting it back. I saw markets selling spirit houses, and wondered if it was a sign of a construction boom. We passed a row of new outlet stores; the driver, who had been silent until then, pointed to them proudly and said, 'outlets'.
I'd booked the hotel the day before, choosing it because it was highly-rated online. It turned out to be a resort near Kata Beach with a swim-up bar and an expensive buffet breakfast. When I checked in, they tied a bracelet of flowers around my wrist. When they realized I was traveling alone, they gave me a delicate lecture on their 'guests' policy. Essentially, if one of their guests brought, ah, someone back to the hotel, they wanted a cut. There is a regular shuttle down to two beaches, one of which is 150 metres and the other 250 metres away. Admittedly, there is a hill in the way.
Thanks to the canny scheduling that is my hallmark, I arrived on Phuket during that short, magical period when high season prices have come into effect, but steady monsoon rains still come down and beaches are red-flagged because of murderous riptides. It rained more or less continuously. I didn't really mind. The rain meant that I had no reason to regret not having stayed in an isolated bungalow somewhere or gone climbing in Krabi; and I had an excuse to spend a lot of time lazing around, which I would have done anyway. It was relaxing. If the trip up to this point had been in any way strenuous or difficult, it would have been an ideal break.
There are things to do on Phuket when it rains. There are mines and plantations, in case you're tired of the spoiled paradise of the beach resorts and want to see the despoiled one of the interior. And there's a small, distant national park, if you don't mind paying huge tuktuk fares. But I chose to just walk around the southeast corner of the island.
Behind the beaches, there are tacky sprawls of pharmacies, tattoo parlours, tourist restaurants, and gogo bars. Pickup trucks carrying advertising billboards drive around, playing recordings promoting a beach volleyball tournament: 'This is world class entertainment'. Shirtless tourists hunt around like the neanderthals in Quest for Fire. There is a Starbucks, which I go to. In some places, I would feel bad about supporting a western chain restaurant. But going to a Starbucks on Phuket is like littering at the dump.
Vendors sell t-shirts with Che Guevara in front of a tropical beach, or that say things like 'Eat more rice, bitch'. I think about getting one of these, but I don't know when I would wear it. I hardly ever go to formal events. There's also a simple black shirt that reads 'No, I don't want a f*?king suit, tuktuk, or massage'. This gives a fair idea of what walking around Kata is like. The suit sellers are by far the worst. Tuktuk drivers and masseuses will cheerfully take 'no, thanks' for an answer; but the suit sellers are desperate men.
Tailors on Phuket compete on tenacity. As you pass their shops, they try to shake your hand and involve you in a conversation. They call out questions to your back as you walk away -- continuing to shout things like 'so, where are you from?' until you're almost out of earshot. I call them tailors, but I think the division of labour in the suit business is such that the guys out front are responsible only for getting people into the store. The guys inside are salesmen, while the suits themselves are slapped together in a sweatshop somewhere.
The 'tuktuks' on Phuket are small red van-like vehicles with 4 wheels. They wait at designated stands, where set prices are often listed. It bothers me that they call themselves tuktuks. Proper tuktuks stake out hotels or cruise around tourist spots. They provide an excitingly dangerous ride in an open, motorized tricycle, and prices are individually tailored to reflect how big a chump the driver thinks you are. Phuket tuktuk drivers don't play the game. They just assume you were going to lose anyway, and post the same absurd prices for everyone.
On my last day, it stopped raining for a few hours, and I went to the beach. And it was pretty great. The water was warm and clear, and if you turn away from the beach, all you see are forested mountains, islands, sky, and sea. Even with the messes brought about by the demand from thoughtless tourists like myself, Phuket is still a beautiful island.
I wanted to go to southern Thailand. The only place in the south you can easily get to from Chiang Mai is Phuket. Getting to the mainland or to another island from Phuket takes a long time. And so, if you've only got a few days, or you're lazy, or unimaginative, or you haven't done much research -- or if all of those things are true -- you end up staying on Phuket, with all the other tourists who drifted here for the same reasons.
It was a 40 minute drive from the airport. There were plantations where rubber trees grew in neat rows, shabby tourist towns, and stretches of jungle. The jungle was lush and dense, and it encroached on cleared land wherever no one was actively fighting it back. I saw markets selling spirit houses, and wondered if it was a sign of a construction boom. We passed a row of new outlet stores; the driver, who had been silent until then, pointed to them proudly and said, 'outlets'.
I'd booked the hotel the day before, choosing it because it was highly-rated online. It turned out to be a resort near Kata Beach with a swim-up bar and an expensive buffet breakfast. When I checked in, they tied a bracelet of flowers around my wrist. When they realized I was traveling alone, they gave me a delicate lecture on their 'guests' policy. Essentially, if one of their guests brought, ah, someone back to the hotel, they wanted a cut. There is a regular shuttle down to two beaches, one of which is 150 metres and the other 250 metres away. Admittedly, there is a hill in the way.
Thanks to the canny scheduling that is my hallmark, I arrived on Phuket during that short, magical period when high season prices have come into effect, but steady monsoon rains still come down and beaches are red-flagged because of murderous riptides. It rained more or less continuously. I didn't really mind. The rain meant that I had no reason to regret not having stayed in an isolated bungalow somewhere or gone climbing in Krabi; and I had an excuse to spend a lot of time lazing around, which I would have done anyway. It was relaxing. If the trip up to this point had been in any way strenuous or difficult, it would have been an ideal break.
There are things to do on Phuket when it rains. There are mines and plantations, in case you're tired of the spoiled paradise of the beach resorts and want to see the despoiled one of the interior. And there's a small, distant national park, if you don't mind paying huge tuktuk fares. But I chose to just walk around the southeast corner of the island.
Behind the beaches, there are tacky sprawls of pharmacies, tattoo parlours, tourist restaurants, and gogo bars. Pickup trucks carrying advertising billboards drive around, playing recordings promoting a beach volleyball tournament: 'This is world class entertainment'. Shirtless tourists hunt around like the neanderthals in Quest for Fire. There is a Starbucks, which I go to. In some places, I would feel bad about supporting a western chain restaurant. But going to a Starbucks on Phuket is like littering at the dump.
Vendors sell t-shirts with Che Guevara in front of a tropical beach, or that say things like 'Eat more rice, bitch'. I think about getting one of these, but I don't know when I would wear it. I hardly ever go to formal events. There's also a simple black shirt that reads 'No, I don't want a f*?king suit, tuktuk, or massage'. This gives a fair idea of what walking around Kata is like. The suit sellers are by far the worst. Tuktuk drivers and masseuses will cheerfully take 'no, thanks' for an answer; but the suit sellers are desperate men.
Tailors on Phuket compete on tenacity. As you pass their shops, they try to shake your hand and involve you in a conversation. They call out questions to your back as you walk away -- continuing to shout things like 'so, where are you from?' until you're almost out of earshot. I call them tailors, but I think the division of labour in the suit business is such that the guys out front are responsible only for getting people into the store. The guys inside are salesmen, while the suits themselves are slapped together in a sweatshop somewhere.
The 'tuktuks' on Phuket are small red van-like vehicles with 4 wheels. They wait at designated stands, where set prices are often listed. It bothers me that they call themselves tuktuks. Proper tuktuks stake out hotels or cruise around tourist spots. They provide an excitingly dangerous ride in an open, motorized tricycle, and prices are individually tailored to reflect how big a chump the driver thinks you are. Phuket tuktuk drivers don't play the game. They just assume you were going to lose anyway, and post the same absurd prices for everyone.
On my last day, it stopped raining for a few hours, and I went to the beach. And it was pretty great. The water was warm and clear, and if you turn away from the beach, all you see are forested mountains, islands, sky, and sea. Even with the messes brought about by the demand from thoughtless tourists like myself, Phuket is still a beautiful island.
