Phuket is the largest island in the Kingdom of Thailand.
The ”Pearl of the Andaman” is about as far west as you can go before the sea beckons you to join the ancient shipping routes to India and the Spice Islands that traders and pirates lost in the mists of time once sailed.
The Thais are very proud of their heritage. They have their own language, culture, and calendar. And they are the only country in Indo-China that was never colonised. This has enabled them to keep most of their Buddhist traditions and culture intact and authentic.
There is a 543 year difference between the western Gregorian calendar and that of the Land of Smiles. 2011 is the year 2554 in Thai time.
It’s another warm. balmy night. The Muslim women have their street food stalls on the edge of the road by the sea wall across from where I am staying in Kalim Bay. At high tide the waves collide with the rocks below and spray their habibs with foam. They barbeque chicken, and in woks they deep fry fish cakes and stir fry Phad Thai noodles. It costs $2-$3 for a meal here, you sit on plastic chairs on the roadside or choose the sea wall if the swell is small.
I walk the winding coast road 5km to Patong Beach. This is the main destination for tourists here, and Bangla Road is the epicentre of this party town. This street of wall to wall bars and clubs stretches about 400 metres from the beach and is closed to traffic from about 6pm each evening. The area was almost completely devastated in the tsunami of 2004 when an earthquake thousands of miles away in the Indian Ocean sent a series of tidal waves smashing into this coast. They claimed more than 5,000 lives from this and surrounding areas.
The street throngs with tourists; English, Scandinavians, Russians and Australians openly gape at the Ladyboys dancing on the table at the entrance to one of the soi’s. They are amongst some of the most beautiful women a man will ever set eyes on; except they’re not women. They flirt with the crowd, soaking up the attention with an ever vigilant eye out for any “farang” who has become mesmerised and transfixed by these ersatz sirens and has the smell of easy money about them.
Couples on honeymoon, families, groups of girls or guys on holiday for the sun and fun this place offers all promenade up and down Bangla Road. T-shirt touts, ping-pong show vendors and buy one-get-one free drink voucher in-your hand thrusters all vie for attention. Bar girls grab young men’s arms and try to entice them into the small drinking places where they will persuade them to buy “lady drinks”, tip them, and perhaps take them back to their hotel.
“Andy” we’ll call him, is an Australian guy, mid 50’s, used to run pubs and nightclubs back home. He retired here, tried trading the markets, then internet gambling, and finally settled on a career as a bar owner “to give myself an interest and to get cheap beer”. He lost his leg several years ago in a bizarre accident, whereby he came off his motorbike coming down a steep hill careening off into the jungle where he lay for 3 days severely injured until a Thai man riding an elephant happened to pass by (as you do). He was hauled off to the local hospital, whereby it was discovered he had an infection from a rare bacteria that there was no cure for. They shipped him off to Bangkok because they didn’t want him. Bangkok didn’t want him either; the risk of infection for other patients was too high. So, he tried to get back to Australia, but no airline would take him. He wasn’t being well looked after, but he couldn’t get anywhere for treatment being, literally a medical persona-non-grata.
An Australian friend managed to bribe someone in an airline to the tune of $100,000AUD, and, finally he was flown to Sydney in an extremely weak state. The major Sydney hospital freaked when they discovered his infection, and they, to get rid of him, and because he was originally from the state of Tasmania, chartered a plane just for him, and flew him to the Hobart hospital. They freaked as well, but in Australia we have universal health care, so they were forced to set up a special ward to house just him. For over a year he was here on his own, no-one could visit him and staff could only attend him in full isolation suited garb. His left leg was removed because the infection was that bad, however, when the doctors came and told him they wanted to remove his right leg, he refused and checked himself out of the hospital. He looks pretty healthy these days drinking a cold beer and relating stories of his sailing adventures in many exotic places. The infection is still there in his right ankle, but as long as it stays there he is fine. You come to Andy’s bar and you meet banker’s, programmers and accountants. The conversations are intellectual and jovial until the later hours and the beers begin to take their toll. I wander back to Kalim Bay in what’s left of a balmy night, avoiding the ladyboys that call to me from darkened doorways and sleep in dreams of surfing elephants and dancing coconut palms....
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