Thailand is very different in every way. One gets the impression first off, that Thai folk are brought up to be of service to everyone they encounter through life, and they do so with a smile in their hearts.
Having just landed in Phuket a year after the tsunami had devastated the region and caused untold misery and trauma for its people and their tourists, the first person we met was an airport baggage handling supervisor. Our suitcases had missed the connection in Singapore and wouldn’t be available until the next flight arrived. The supervisor’s English wasn’t good, but his manner and deference was so sincere that you couldn’t help but become sympathetic to his predicament as opposed to being irritated by yours.
By way of introduction, the young man stood almost to attention before us and then, with prayer-like palms, he bowed to us before sharing the news in a manner that took the form of a personal apology as if the problem was entirely of his own making. He further guaranteed that he would personally ensure that as soon as the bags arrived, they would be delivered to our room at the Patong Beach Hotel before the afternoon was over.
Everyone in Thailand greets you with prayer-like palms and a bow from the waist, together with a broad, warm smile that accompanies the greeting Sawasdee (the second ‘s’ is silent), no matter where you go and what you do.
The walls of the bedroom we were taken to were painted black and the room was full of bright gold figurines. This just didn’t sit comfortably with us, so we asked the porter whether it was possible for us to move to a brighter room. The duty manageress arrived immediately, and following the traditional greeting, she also apologized profusely for organizing a room that was not to our liking and arranged a transfer to a suite on the ground floor with double-glass doors that opened out directly to the pool area and the sea beyond.
Before afternoon tea on the first day we knew this was going to be one fabulous holiday. We signed up for a string of excursions that took us to beautiful temples such as the Big Buddha of Phuket, theatres, massage and beauty salons, restaurants, street markets, and elephant sanctuaries. In between we found Mr One, a wonderful character who taxied us everywhere he thought would be of interest and fun.
Our first trip was in the back of a Second World War-era Land Rover that took a small group of tourists for a visit to an elephant sanctuary. We were joined in the back of the Landy by two other couples, who were fresh in from Australia. We introduced ourselves and exchanged the usual pleasantries, whereupon one gentleman introduced himself as Bernard Cohen, from a long line of furniture retailers in Newtown, Johannesburg, who had emigrated to Oz, ten years before.
We settled in Marion, South Australia, Bernard volunteered in response to my question as to how he found Australia. It’s a beautiful town on the coast, but it was a bluddy mission to get municipal permission to extend the one bathroom. I mean, you have no bluddy idea how difficult those municipal people can be when you just want to make a small renovation. You gotta fill in pages of application forms and they want to know everything, including your bluddy grandfather’s details. All we wanted was a bigger loo! The more he told his story, the more expressive he became.
Eventually, after almost twelve months, can you believe, twelve bluddy months, we finally got the permission. Never had that problem in SA!
I turned to the other couple in an attempt to change the subject and lighten the conversation. And you, Grant? I said to the white-haired, slip of a gentleman sitting quietly next to his pretty wife. What did you do in Australia before retirement?
Well, actually, replied Grant, a little nervously, I worked for the Marion municipality, planning department. The silence thereafter was deafening!
Our holiday to Thailand coincided with a time in my life when I fancied myself as a bit of a golfer, so I had decided to take my clubs with me just in case an opportunity arose for a game. Ann had decided to sign up for a Thai cookery class, which would take her away for a good five or six hours. That excursion turned out to create a long-lasting memory. Ann and the others on the course were taken to the local market to learn what special plants and herbs were essential to the different recipes before going to an open-air kitchen on the beach where everyone learnt the magic of real Thai cuisine.
I grabbed the opportunity to go to the Royal Phuket Golf Club and sign in for an eighteen-hole round. My plans to complete the round alone went awry when they paired me up with a Japanese golfer who clearly knew his golf but had virtually no command of the English language. It became apparent after the first couple of holes that the Japanese gentleman regretted having to partner with me, basically because by comparison to his evidently single-digit handicap, I was a bumbling novice. Furthermore, in a desperate attempt to save face, I had to find humour in the situation or die of embarrassment. At the one and only time I tried to start up a conversation, I innocently remarked at the fourth tee that it this was a long hole. The Japanese golfer stopped and looked at me sideways before asking, What you mean, wong hole?
Mr One offered to take us to a famous jewellery factory where we could find something at half the going price. The gems factory in Phuket is a huge jewellery manufacturer, and its spectacular premises are laid out to not only design and make the finest of jewellery, but to also woo the thousands of tourists who are taken there by any and all tourist guides. It was here that we met our first Thai ladyboy, one of whom took personal charge of Ann’s desire for something special. Andrée was constantly on hand to show Ann his ‘doimands’.
I understand why so many aging English widowers make their way to Thailand in search of young, nubile, and pretty Thai girls, because generally speaking, Thai women are very attractive and, what’s more, they have a reputation of being very subservient, particularly to their husbands. What many of the men miss though, is that most of the more stunningly gorgeous women you find in Phuket’s bustling night life are in fact ladyboys. Alternatively, the ‘real’ women can be extremely cunning and streetwise. Many a lost soul looking for love has found himself penniless and alone after a whirlwind romance in the back of a tuk-tuk.
The ‘Fantasea’ theatre complex was another wonder. We attended the show in a gigantic auditorium, a venue large enough to accommodate seven or eight fully grown Indian elephants on stage as well as host a dinner in a massive buffet dining hall. It’s at least the size of three rugby fields in floor space and accommodates a few thousand visitors. On entering, I visibly cringed at the prospect of a buffet dinner, which under any other circumstances I would have avoided like the plague. But surprisingly, the spread of hot, fresh, and delicious recipes were of superb quality. It was truly impressive, and the incredible speed and efficiency with which we were served and attended to, despite the large number of diners demanding food, was so slick that we have never witnessed an equal since.
The streets of Patong are not only illuminated all-year round, but they come alive with a vibrant clamor of music, dance, and noise every night when the locals and tourists come out to play. We joined in and wandered the streets, taking in the sights and sounds, visiting some of the clubs, shops, and restaurants, and enjoying the apparent carefree madness. A noticeable phenomenon was the number of overhead electrical cables that run between buildings along the length of every street. Bunched together haphazardly, they looked incredibly unsafe and capable of bursting into fire at the drop of a hat.
The now-famous Big Buddha of Patong was still under construction when we were there. The huge, white marble Buddha sat, cross-legged on top of the tallest hill in the city. We took the opportunity to go to the site to see for ourselves. From this vantage point we took in the panoramic views of the island and savoured the peace and mystery that engulfs the holy place where it is rumoured Buddha himself went to meditate.
We took advantage of the offer to purchase one of the white marble tiles being used in the statue’s construction, wrote our names and message on the back and had it placed into the base of the statue for evermore. This act purportedly rejuvenated our karma, which I suspect really happened because, well, here we are, many years later, still very happy and in love, and hoping for a few more adventures.
We took a launch trip for a day out to the Phi Phi islands in the South China Sea. We swam in the warm waters, admired the unique island shapes, visited a floating village, and enjoyed yet another delicious Thai lunch. Finally, we gathered enough courage to visit one of the massage salons that can be found on every street corner. The one we decided on was attached to our hotel. Ann and I wandered into its reception, and we were greeted by a young maiden who just took my breath away. Any reluctance to have a massage I may have harboured up until then was washed away by her dazzling beauty.
Can we have a massage together? asked Ann, acutely aware of the attraction the receptionist presented.
Oh yes, the ‘angel’ said in the softest of Thai accents.
We were ushered into a room with a floor-to-ceiling mirror mounted across the wall in front of us and disrobed to our underwear before lying down on our stomachs on firm mattresses. We were positioned next to each other on the floor, facing the mirror. I lay there in nervous anticipation of this new experience, soaking up the peaceful atmosphere that was enhanced by the burning of sweet-smelling incense and the soft sounds of Eastern music with a vision of that exquisite young woman about to massage me from head to toe.
After a short while, the ‘angel’ appeared but to my singular dismay, made her way across the floor to Ann where she took up some oil in her hands and started to gently massage Ann’s tired muscles.
I had no time to reorganize my thoughts to expect another ‘angel’ to appear, because no sooner had the Ann’s massage begun, when a short, stocky Thai woman about forty years of age and who almost certainly had, at one time, been a member of the Thai Olympic body-building team, walked in. She had a moustache that most men would be proud of.
She strode purposefully towards me, threw some oil onto her hands, and descended with her full weight onto my back with singular determination. She worked my shoulders, spine, arms, and legs such that each of my limbs took on a life of their own, leaving me with the lingering pain in muscles I didn’t even know I owned.
I wasn’t able to object or even scream out from the pain, of course. I would never have been able to live that down, and make no mistake, it would have made dinner conversations for many years to come. So, I kept my mouth shut and cringed my way through the attack.
Then, if inflicting excruciating pain was not enough, halfway through the procedure, the man-lady asked me, as loud as you will, Are you looking for wifie?