Dateline Phuket, 3 January 2018
After our lengthy journey of a little more than 48 hours to get to Phuket, we were glad to be able to check into our room early. Settled in, we then took a brief walk around our Old Phuket Town neighborhood to orient ourselves and get familiar with the local landmarks. The most notable is Fountain Circle, a traffic roundabout about two blocks from our hotel. The trick is to be able to recognize which street entering the circle is the one we want. Then it was back to the hotel for a much needed nap. We slept for about three hours, very grateful to be horizontal and not freezing in the over-air conditioned Bangkok airport where we had had a layover of about eight hours.
Traffic in Thailand is not required to stop for pedestrians so crossing is a matter of careful timing and agility. We also have to be careful to look right before moving into the street because, as it is in India, they drive on the left side of the road.
Coming into town from the airport felt a lot like the drive into many places we’ve been: a crowded mix of business and small homes fronting the roadway. Boulevards close to the city have a distinctly industrial feel with large billboards, big name car dealerships, large equipment sellers and furniture outlets. But once in foot, we noticed that trash is well contained and the narrow sidewalks, although crammed with spill-over of goods from the tiny shops, are kept swept and washed down. And the mostly tile floors in almost every business we’ve entered is sparkling clean, so we leave our shoes outside next to those of the shopkeepers. Most tourists don’t do that – so there is perpetually mopping and sweeping.
Here is a sign in the stairwell of our hotel that we found amusing:
Of course, no durian: it reeks. And the mangosteen stains anything it touches. 😬
Now, off to to the Beach
Some of the greatest attractions for visitors to this island are the beautiful beaches – and there are so many to choose from. The bays seem to be linked continuously along the entire circumference of the island as you can see on this map:
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Carlotta’s love of swimming in tropical waters was certainly a draw for us to this part of the world and she researched our choices thoroughly. We decided on Hat Kamala mid-way up the west coast for our first sojourn out of Phuket Town. After a breakfast of excellent Thai coffee and Khao Tom ข้าวต้ม (banana and sticky rice packed in banana leaf – these were heated at the street foodstand over charcoal), we set off to the bus stand, dressed in the very acceptable bathing suits covered with sarongs and in sandals, to find a sŏrng·tăa·ou for Kamala. This mode of transport is like an open-air mini-bus, pretty much mounted on a small pic-up truck. They vary in size, but usually have benches along the sides and on down the middle of the framed-in passenger space. The drivers seem to reserve the bench seat beside them for senior passengers. Locals and tourists alike pack in with parcels and backpacks until there is no more room. The one pictured here had just unloaded its riders.
The ride through town and to the coast took just over an hour and as we neared our destination we marveled at the view which overlooked Kamala Bay. Following other people, we picked our way across a rather long stretch of hot, treeless ground which was littered with the remnants of what looked like a festival. Then the ocean appeared.
Walking the long strip that fronted the beach were tourists in various shades of tan, giving away just how much time they’d been there. These were almost all foreign visitors. Posted languages at the long string of restaurants included German and Russian as well as English, but we didn’t hear any American accents besides our own.
We settled in at a table at the edge of of a spacious restaurant called “The Pond”, ordered juice drinks and took turns alternating swimming with watching our belongings. The owners didn’t seem to mind this lengthy stay – it seems almost expected. We were safe in the shade and had a good view of each other swimming.
Above: Carlotta happy to be here, and our shared platter of sweet watermelon and pineapple.
There are showers close to every establishment to rinse off the salt water, and boy, is it salty! It’s amazing swimming in this water… one is so buoyant you cannon possibly sink. The water is shallow for at least 50 meters out and slopes ever so gently beyond that. Kayaks, Sea-Doos, and motorized boats stay far from shore so we never felt any danger or competition from them.
As we were packing up to leave, a European man at the next table called us over and introduced himself by saying how he loved our accents. We were astounded! Who would have thought an American accent was beautiful?! He told us he had played hockey professionally in the United States for years with Washington, Philadelphia, and New York, and that he was very nostalgic for the sound of American voices. If any one of our readers can find out who this is it would be fun to know for sure. He’s a retired Swedish player, about 70, with ice blue eyes and deep scars from multiple surgeries to his shoulders…and apparently a repaired nose…by the last name of Nilsson. We couldn’t quite catch his first name because it was far too exotic for our ears. It was touching that he became teary as we said goodbye.
The bus ride back was much longer in rush hour traffic and the fumes from traffic were noxious. It was sort of fun to be in the thick of it though, watching the polite progression of battalions of motorcycles and all sorts of other vehicles. We arrived at our hotel very satisfied with the day. More as time allows. Thank you for reading this rather lengthy post. I promise to try to keep it a little shorter next time.
Your globe-trotting friends, Greta and Carlotta
65 Adventurers 