Sympathy for the Devil

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Our trip was basically split into two parts: a cultural one and a beach vacation. Having left Penang, we were ready to head to the island of Phuket (pronounced POO-get), Thailand known for three things: its amazing beaches, limestone cliffs, and rampant prostitution. After our experience in Penang, (High Culture, Low Culture, Monkeys, and Ladyboys) we chose to make reservations at a hostel before arriving, as opposed to relying on Lonely Planet and pissy taxi drivers. Having evaluated a number of housing options, we went with a new hostel-- the Squareone-- in the largest town on the island, Patong Beach. The hostel featured a new building, a pool, and great reviews. The only hitch was the website said it could be a little difficult to find.

In Penang, we decided to travel the only way a true backpacker knows how: by minibus. Minibuses are 10-person vans, with four rows of seats, and psychotic drivers. Just about every commercial establishment in SE Asia can book a minibus cheaply, and, with a little bit of haggling, very cheaply.

We were told by the agent we settled on that the ride would only be eight hours long. Thinking that we'd have a pretty full afternoon in Phuket, we got up early on my birthday and piled onto the minibus. Luckily, there were only about six people on the 10-seater, so everybody had a lot of space. Some back of the envelope calculations told me that, even if the bus was full, the company who ran it would still lose money, after gas, wear and tear, and border crossing taxes were factored in.

As we approached the Malaysian border, it became clear how the company turned a profit. The bus pulled over to the side of the road, popped its trunk, and a bunch of people started shoving packages wrapped in black plastic bags under the back row of seats. We crossed the border and, a few minutes later, the bus stopped again. More people came and excitedly removed the packages from trunk. I'm glad they found a way to keep ticket prices low.

The ride continued, when all of a sudden, we entered a city and the driver announced the bus was going to Hat Yai, a large city in southern Thailand that has been a theater for attacks by Muslim separatists groups against Western interests. We were a bit nervous about it, Alex being pissed as hell that we were stopping, and me being excite to see another city. Luckily, we weren't stranded in Hat Yai, as the woman at the travel agency where we stopped informed us that we would be tuk-tuking to the bus station, where another minibus would take us to Phuket.

After about a half hour of hanging out in downtown Hat Yai, a tuk tuk came and we boarded it. We were joined by a guy from France who had been traveling alone for quite sometime. He talked to us about how excited he was to leave Hat Yai and get away from the ethnic tensions. Except for the clear sound of gunfire in the distance, the city seemed unremarkable.

We boarded the next minibus and we were off to Phuket. This driver seemed to be in quite a hurry, going at the minibus’ top speed down winding roads, and running cars off the road left and right. The scenery along the coast, near Krabi, was stunning, with giant lime stone cliffs coming up out of nowhere. Unfortunately, neither the nice views nor a 30 minute monsoon deterred the driver from running trucks, motor bikes, and other minibuses off to the shoulder.

While we survived the minibus ride, we were still somehow four hours behind schedule and it was dark outside. Our French friend didn't have a place to stay, and, not wanting to have to find a place on his own, decided to try his luck at the Squareone with us. We told the tuk tuk driver the name of the place and showed him the address. He consulted with another driver, and said that he didn't really know where the place was. We drove around for a bit, and the driver seemed lost. I told him to stop at an Internet cafe, so I could show him the map on the website. Another hour passed, and the driver dropped us off somewhere he said was close to the Squareone.

We still couldn’t find the place, and were naturally getting a bit on edge. I decided to walk up and ask a bartender if she knew where the Squareone was. As I got closer, I realized the bartender looked a bit funny, and quickly realized that she was not a she. The transvestite was actually the only person we encountered who knew where the hostel was, and gave us clear directions on how to get there. We proceeded in the proper direction as quickly as possible.

The Squareone turned out to be an excellent place, with a nice pool and clean rooms. We went out, got a lobster dinner for my birthday, and decided to do a night on the town. Like any tourist center in Thailand, the town was swarming with prostitutes, which made it quite a challenge to meet a woman who wouldn't give me a bill the next morning.

We decided to take a walk through Bangla, a closed-off street that was Patong's red light district. Walking through the street required a few football-moves to fake out the working girls, touts, and guys with iguanas who were trying to pull pedestrians into their bars or just hand them iguanas.

The next morning, we were off to Patong beach, a long, sandy beach protected by an inlet, featuring calm, clear, piss-warm water. It was nice, but, being too lazy to actually learn how to go surfing, wanted to find a place with bigger waves to go boogie-boarding. This goal led us to take a ridiculously overpriced taxi (tuk tuks seemed to be on the same price schedule) to go to Kata beach, a beach which was supposed to feature Swedes and larger waves.

When the taxi driver finally arrived at the beach, it was covered in red flags. Thai lifeguards use green, yellow, and red flags to indicate the ocean's swimability. During the monsoon season, strong currents often make the ocean unsafe, and we were afraid that was happening at Kata. Luckily, there was a small, yellow flagged strip of beach that hosted a number of swimmers. The ocean was a little rough, but still calmer than a typical day in Ocean City, MD. I had a few good rides on the boogie boards, but nothing spectacular.

A better beach was Lamp Sing beach, just north of Patong, requiring a walk down a steep trail through the Jungle. The waves were bigger, the red flags were ignored by everybody, and it seemed to be a local’s beach. By locals, I mean middle-aged white guys and their 20-year-old Thai girlfriends and some Thai kids selling stuff and wanting to practice their English. I rented a boogie board, and started to get some really great rides, and soon realized why red flags were posted.

I perfectly hit a seven foot wave that broke close to the shore. The wave furiously slammed me down, making it nearly impossible for me to keep the nose of the board above water. I hit the water or the ocean floor really hard, and, according to Alex, I flew about four feet in the air and landed kind of roughly. Luckily, I was only a little scratched up from the board. I don't want to think about what would have happen had I not been able to control the board.

The most interesting part of the trip was another night out drinking. We decided to look for a bar which featured girl-born-girls who weren't prostitutes. We couldn't seem to find any, so we settled for a strip of bars that looked a bit less like a brothel. After sitting down at a bar, a couple of middle aged Americans said hello to us. I started talking to one of them, who was married to a women who was also at the bar, although she was sitting pretty far away. Everyone at the bar seemed to know who he was. He proudly announced that all of the girls working there were his nieces and were all from the same small town in Northern Thailand.

He said he had been in Phuket for around five years and loved it, and worked with people with mental and physical disabilities. He thought that most of the cases he worked with were due to poor childhood diet and exercise habits, problems which didn't exist in Thailand. Moreover, he was able to enjoy a much higher standard of living. Of course, the age, language and culture differences must be a bit of a challenge.

The next night, we tried to meet women of professions other than the oldest at a couple discos that were recommended to us by some European women. After three Thai women approached me and started fighting over me, I quickly realized that it was going to be the same thing.

We arranged for the obligatory boat tour to the Phi Phi islands, whose beaches are geared towards being seen rather than experienced. We talked to a few people on the trip, and we had managed to negotiated a considerably lower price than anyone else.

Ultimately, Phuket is a hedonistic, international beach that does a good job of entertaining family tourists, backpackers, sex tourists, and the odd romance tourists. Aspringnomad has a great blog entry on romance tourism in the Philippines Interview with the Sex Tourist.

Alex's version of events can be found at Seedy chic.

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