2004
The Last Mile
I arrived at Phuket International Airport about 3 hours ahead of schedule this morning, having been able to change my flight and avoid hitting another stop on the way down. The Victoria Guest house, where I had made a reservation (by phone, the day before I left) was to send a car to meet me at 12:30p, and since I got off the plane at 9:30a, I imagined I would get there in plenty of time to stop the car from heading to the airport. Little did I know.
But before we go there, a little background...
Phuket is a province in the south of Thailand, made up entirely of the island off the west side of the peninsula. The island has a little over a quarter million citizens, and 543 square km. (210 sq miles) for them to spread out. Its mountainous, and is approximately 70orest (so much for the spreading out). The island has two primary industries rubber trees plantations (Thailand is the largest producer of rubber in the world) and tourism. Phuket is blessed with many beautiful beaches and is THE tourist destination in the region for island life. And thats why Im here.
At the airport, the cab stand is inside. You pay your 550 baht ($1= 38 baht, or so), and they put you in an air-conditioned taxi. Downtown Patong Beach, please. The Victoria Guesthouse, are my instructions. It turns out that the taxi driver had never heard of the Victoria Guesthouse. Thats fine, just take me to Beach Road (also known as Thaweewong Road, or Taveewong Road, depending on which map you have in front of you EVERYTHING has multiple names here). Well find it. But Mr. Taxi Driver wasnt so sure.
I guess now is as good a time as any to explain Thai Beach Distance, though I doubt its unique to Thailand. Its like looking at the world the wrong way through binoculars everything must be SO far away. End-to-end, Patong Beach, the town, couldnt be more than mile long. The main strip is mile at best. So figure mile long by mile deep, and there you have it. But ask most anybody how you get to most anywhere, and they tell you that its a long way and to get a motorbike taxi, as if its a journey unfit for pedestrians, and as if its just SO much better to be sitting behind a Thai scooter driver without a helmet (more on this later).
Now, Mr. Taxi Driver, in consideration of my plight, suggested that I let him find me a more legitimate place to stay. I told him that for 1,000 baht / night, I had a good deal and wanted to go there, to Victoria Guesthouse. He told me that for 1,000 baht / night I could stay in a real hotel, with a swimming pool (Dude, Im at the beach!), though Im certain it would be a fair bit out of town. Thanks, but no, just take me to Beach Road.
What should have been a 30 minute trip was much longer. The airport is on the northeast corner of Phuket Island. Patong Beach is pretty much due south. Since the roads are only occasionally marked I didnt really know where we were at any given time. But since Mr. Taxi Driver kept trying to sell me on staying somewhere else, I developed the feeling that we werent heading where we should be going. I knew this because I only saw mountains, no beach. About 60 minutes into the trip he pulled into a shop on the side of the road. Where are we? He explained that this is where somebody could help me find a place to stay. Judging by the exterior of the shop, I was also fairly certain that I could buy fishing bait, a date, and Vienna Sausages, too.
Ok, now Im getting perturbed. A lady walks outside to great us, asking what kind of accommodations I would like. No, thank you though, I said with a smile. The travelers guides all suggest that when your are bombarded each day with offers of every sort, a simple smile and shake of the head no should suffice. Looking at Mr. Taxi Driver, I want to go to Patong Beach right now. To Beach Road. To Victoria Guesthouse. Now. Do you understand? He looks at me with that puzzled look as if he doesnt understand a word I am saying. Nevermind that he was able to fully converse about the Dallas Cowboys and how I should have a cowboy hat on because Im from Texas. Oh, and he knows the word legitimate. Where are we, right now, on this map?!, I demand, letting him know that I know the scam is on. That same puzzled look comes across his face. I must be speaking German now, or something.
So I pulled out my map, pointing directly to Beach Road, in the center of Patong Beach. Take me here! Now!
Ok, the lesson of the day. A tourist area in Thailand is really not that different than a tourist area anywhere else. Everybodys out to make a buck. In a third-world country, er, uh, developing nation, its only magnified. Later, after talking with the Swedes, I learn that Mr.Taxi Driver actually took me around to the east side of the island to the outskirts of Phuket Town, where all the hotel booking businesses are. They gladly pay taxi drivers a percentage of any bookings to do just this.
So I fly 33 hours only to have this guy burn another 90 minutes of my time, my daylight beach time at that, so he can make a 300 baht commission. I would have tipped him that much for taking me straight there, had I known to ask. But as it turns out, I stiff him.
Back in the car, we arrive some time later in Patong Beach. I know this because I can actually see beach. With sand. The day is looking up. Staying true to his story of not knowing where Victoria Guesthouse is, he drops me at the corner of Beach Road and Soi Bangla (Bangla Road).
With a bag over each shoulder, I look right. I look left. I see a policeman. Where is Victoria Guesthouse from here? He said to ask the motorbike taxi driver just a few steps away. Where is Victoria Guesthouse from here?, I ask the motorbike taxi driver. He said he would take me there for 200 baht. Not in a million years. So I start walking. About 25 paces down the road, motorbike taxi driver drives by, honking and pointing to the next shop. Victoria Guesthouse, indeed.
Home, Swede Home
Victoria Guest House is a humble little place to stay. True to the style here, along the beach are rows of little shops facing the street, many of which have a back side to them of a little cafe on the beach. Of those, a few have a guest house, consisting of 4-8 rooms for let above the shops. The rooms have a television set (with occasional English language programming), and air conditioner, a mini-fridge, a very comfortable futon-style mattress (though some have regular mattresses), and are Spartan and neat. Victoria has private baths, but not all do. Mine was actually a water closet a toilet and shower and sink all in the same little closet. Its a real time saver, given you can literally shit, shave and shower all at the once. I didnt try it, but I'm quite sure you can.
The owner wasnt around (he wasnt expecting me for about an hour) so I walked out to the little caf on the beach. I order a beer, and just breath in the salt air. Make small talk with the waitresses. Listen to the accents of the people eating in the caf, or lounging on the beach. I'm enjoying just being here, being anywhere that here is. At the destination. I felt victory, and the waitresses must have sensed it, because they were quite pleased with me.
“Did Basse send a car for you?”
“Who’s Basse?”
“The owner of the guesthouse.”
“Yes. I thought I’d tell him to cancel it, but I havent found him yet.”
The waitresses go on full alert, going the phone and making calls and sustaining some serious chatter. I begin to see that Thai is not that beautiful of a language.
“The driver is waiting for you at the airport, one girl says to me as she trots over.”
“Please inform the driver that I am here already.” Then she scurries off to chatter to the girl on the phone. The girl on the phone chatters, and chatters, and then the other girls chatter and chatter.
“Is everything ok here?”
All chatter stops. “Its fine.”
“Well are you sure?”
“Yes, its fine.”
I walk back to my table and the chatter resumes. And I laugh. And then they start laughing.
Up walks Basse, the owner of the guesthouse. He’s a real nice guy, and a Swede. He’s a pretty interesting cat, too. He’s about 35, and explains that he was a harvest machinery operator. He would do one crop in his home country, Sweden. The would go to a different country for another crop. And would up in California for the rice harvest. He had done this for years, working 15 hour days for 60-75 days, taking a little time off, and then moving on to the next. He would do 2-3 harvest per year, sock away a little money and then spend it on traveling. And beer. Lots of beer.
One such trip landed him in Patong, and he decided thats where he should be. So he took his savings, bought the guesthouse and became a proprietor. He had taken over just two months prior, but had already found his Thai girl, and there were quite happy together.
He showed me to my room. Its nice enough, and the price is right. I lay down on the bed, appreciating the moderate firmness of the futon mattress. It was just right. But I pop up after just a minute, realizing that unless I want to really throw my body clock out, I need to stay awake until early evening, and then get a good 10 hours in.
So I set out to walk the town. First observation the beach is beautiful. Second observation the streets are just like the streets of any Mexican town along the Texas border only more so. If youve ever been to Matamoros, or Nuevo Laredo or Juarez, then you know exactly what I mean.
As I said before, everybodys selling something. And not just selling, but really hawking it. T-shirts, luggage, home dcor, sunglasses, travel excursions, clothing, goods of every sort. And each place has somebody standing out front making sure that you cant accidentally miss something you may not know you not yet need. And some of them are pretty good at it too.
Likewise, there are plenty of eating and drinking establishments. They have some very obvious districts, or clusters of bars, but I didnt assume there was any significance to it. I would later find there was. There were plenty of internet cafes to email home, and plenty of convenience stores, too. And pharmacias everywhere. Yes, your standard developing-nation tourist town. Only more so.
So I criss-cross the town, head down the beach both ways before heading back for a shower - a good 90 minutes. I see Basse, and thought I’d pick his brain on where I should and shouldn’t go. “Bars that serve good food are…” I’m writing this down. “The lady bars are in 2 places…” “Lady bars?” “Yes, if you want a Thai girl.” I think I get the concept, but just to be clear, I prompt him to tell me a little bit about that.
Why You Have No Thai Girl, Pee Alias?
“Oh, yeah, its your first time here. In Thailand we have lady bars where you go to find a Thai girl to date while youre here. You go to the street with the bars, and there will be 4 or 6 or 8 girls behind the each bar selling over-priced drinks. Dont eat there though. They’re all very pretty, about 25 years old. If you see a girl you like, you call her around the bar. If she likes you, she comes around. Most of them know some English so you talk for a little bit, and if you still like each other you make the deal. You can pay by the day but better by the week.”
Again, I think I get the concept, but what am I paying for?
“You’re paying for her company, 24×7. She is your girlfriend. And they expect you to take them to eat and to buy them gifts, and treat them with respect. If you lived here, they would stay at your home, and when you wake up, your dishes and clothes will be clean and meals are always cooked. My Thai girl Sao doesnt work very hard though. She thinks shes too good, so I have to do some of my own work in addition to running this place. But shes a good to me. Treat them like a normal girlfriend. They have sex with you. Just like a girl friend. If you get a Thai girl, when you leave to go home shell cry and cry and cry.”
How interesting… “How much do they charge?”
“It depends. Usually around $100 USD per week. I have to go now, my friends Pennance and Tom are here. Want to go have a beer with us?” I explain that I’m laying low tonight, having had a long journey, but would take him up on the offer at another time. Like I said earlier, Basse is one of those really nice, really helpful guys that you fully appreciate when you’re the new guy in a new place, but I had a plan: 1) get a shower, 2) get some dinner about 5p, 3) get a massage from 7:00p-9p, and 4) be out like a light at 9:15p.
“Ok. Well have beer another time then, Alias. If you get a Thai girl, make sure shes not a kitoy.” See ya., as he walks off with Penance and Tom. “Whats a kitoy?”, I wonder as Basse turns the corner out of view.
So I showered in the closet, walked downstairs to the cafe on the beach, to be greeted by my most-pleasant wait staff, who from this point forward referred to me as Pee Alias, Pee being the Thai word for brother. It was a compliment of the highest order I was told.
“Where’s you Thai girl?” “I do not have a Thai girl.”
“Why no Thai girl?” “I dont know. I didn’t know about Thai girls until today”, I say, defending my circumstance.
“Why you have no Thai girl, Pee Alias?”, another insisted. “I dont know. Should I have a Thai girl?”
“Most men have Thai girl.” Then one says something in Thai to the others, and they all giggle. I spend dinner assuring them that I do, in fact, love women.
I order scrambled eggs, and they accomodate me. Most delicious. A couple of beers to enhance relaxation, then to the massage.
The massage was in the same building, facing the breezeway from the street to the beach. About $15 for 2 hours. $10 tip. I slither up the stairs, on to the futon mattress, and sleep was there waiting for me.