Phuket, Thailand - Tropical Island in the Andaman Sea

Thailand’s largest island was once a major trading point between India and China where the island derived its wealth from the export of tin and rubber. Nowadays of course tourism is Phuket's main source of income and for Angela and I, it was to be the final stop of our eighteen day trip around South East Asia. After travelling through Laos, Vietnam and Cambodia, the lure of a luxurious hotel with its own private beach was simply irrisistable. Touching down at the Phuket International, the sun was shining, the sky was blue and our mood was good.

The Cape Panwa Hotel was located on the south-eastern tip of Phuket, a forty minute taxi ride. When we arrived we were not disapointed; it was exactly the sort of hotel we'd been hoping for. In the lobby were photos of some previous guests. I recognised most of them because they were all famous. Leonardo Di Caprio, Oliver Stone and even Elizabeth Taylor had stayed at the Cape Panwa. We looked around in case any more famous faces were in view but there were none. We headed for the private beach instead.

It was glorious; the white sands and turquoise water looked truly beautiful. Grabbing a mask and snorkel we were soon in the sea, wondering what we’d find. The answer turned out to be not that much, though there were some unidentifiable shapes lurking on the bottom. Upon closer inspection these beasts turned out to be leaves deposited from the nearby palms.

For the next couple of hours we lounged on the beach reading and listening to our ipods. At one point we hired a canoe and went for a quick jaunt around the bay. What a life! It was only back at the hotel that I realised my folly. My legs were red raw, looking like slabs of meat.

I felt like such a fool. I’d been so careful up until now. But I had been lulled. Lulled by the fact I’d been out in the sun for over two weeks without any sunburn whatsoever. In the hotel room, I lay like a lobster regarding my limbs with horror. They were stinging like mad and looked truly hideous. I rubbed some aloe vera on them which soon began crackling and hissing. My legs were actually cooking!

We pondered on why I'd burnt quite so badly. After all, Angela was fine even though she’d been out in the sun just as long as me. The answer turned out to be because of my malaria tablets. Back in the UK, I’d elected to get the cheapest brand possible, costing six pounds. Angela opted for the most expensive ones, costing over £30. Reading the information leaflet from my tablets, I spotted a warning in bold black lettering. It read: Avoid direct exposure to the sun, e.g. sunbathing on a sun lounger. Angela's had no such warning.

"What sort of imbecile invents malaria tablets where you need to avoid exposure to the sun?" I said incredoulously. "It’s always hot places where mosquitoes are. It's like buying a ski jacket with a warning not to wear it in the snow. It's bloody madness."

A few hours later I attempted to stand up. I felt like a pensioner with arthritis. Getting my jeans on was really fun. It felt like my skin was being sheared off, layer by painful layer. Walking was also a novel experience. Moving like a robot without any knee joint made Angela laugh. But at least I was mobile, able to hobble to a restaurant.

The one we chose was just up the hill from our hotel. We sat on a balcony overlooking the sea. At half past six the sun began to set and ten minutes later the insects began their sunset call. This happened the following day at exactly the same time. The insect chorus could be set to an alarm clock.

That night we were delighted to find a tiny gecko in our room. It was hanging on the wall, hopefully catching stray insects. I went to sleep with my legs wobbling and stinging every time I moved. It was a fitful night made worse when I found out that the bed sheet had become stuck to my aloe vera'd legs. Getting free of my new skin graft was like pulling the plaster off a not-quite-so healed wound.

The next morning the crimson glow had receded a little. I could also move about a little easier. We went for breakfast where we came across a thug of a man. He was a tall German, about six feet four. He’s been sitting with his wife and another couple when I'd decided to get a croissant. When I returned Angela was shaking her head. “That man has just been really horrible to that poor waitress,” she told me. “I don’t know what he said, but he was towering over her like a giant. And then he stormed off.” Just then the man returned and stomped back up to the waitress. Once more, he stood over the terrified girl, brining his face only inches from hers. He was nearly twice her size. “Let me give you some advice,” he bellowed in her face. This was a man clearly not bothered by social etiquette. The girl stared up at him, hands raised in self defence. The man continued. “Do not come over to guests and say ‘napkin’. No! You say ‘good morning’ first! I have paid a lot of money to stay at this hotel and I demand to be treated with respect!” Then he stormed off back to his table. The people he’d been sitting with looked slightly embarrassed.

The waitress stood still a moment, obviously at a loss, and then she was surrounded by some of her colleagues. A few moments later she walked away looking as if she might cry. We saw her disappear into a private room for hotel staff, no doubt calming down. “What a bully,” said Angela. “She didn’t do anything wrong. And who does he think he is?” We left breakfast with a bitter taste in our mouths.

To calm down, we wandered back to the beach where this time I made sure I was covered head to toe. Laying down on a sun lounger in the shade with even my toes covered must have looked a little bit odd to the other guests. But I didn't care; I was safe from the sun's searing rays.

That night we decided to go out for a meal. We’d read about a place in the guide book and thought it sounded okay. We called a taxi and when it arrived we told the driver of our plans. “Yes you could go there. It is nice,” he said. “But I know somewhere better. It's a fish restaurant near the one you want to go. But it's owned by local people whereas the other place is owned by westerners. Both serve good food but only one will contribute to local economy. It is up to you.” We of course chose the fish restaurant.

The restaurant was situated near the shore, and even though it was dark, the sound of the waves lapping up against the sandy beach made it a good choice for an evening meal. Our fish arrived on a fish-shaped metal plate balanced upon an open stove. And it was the whole fish, head, tail, bones and all. It was a tasty but messy meal, and as we tucked in a young girl approached our table. She had some knickknacks in a bag and a sign which read: I am dumb. Please buy from me. We did.

The next day, our final day in Phuket, was also my birthday. A cake arrived in our room, courtesy of the hotel management. It was a nice touch to an already fabulous stay. With my legs healing nicely, we headed back to the beach, but this time we were armed with bread. We wanted to feed the fish.

Wading out into the clear waters of the Andaman Sea, Angela threw a small chunk of bread into the water and waited. Almost immediately a shoal of fish arrived, darting to and fro in the clear blue sea. We threw more bread in and were soon surrounded by perhaps a hundred fish, all silvery and inquistive. Occasionally we’d catch a glimpse of some strange translucent fish. They were long and thin, shimmering with fabulous shades of blue and green. Unlike the silver fish, they were shy creatures, keeping their distance and disappeared from sight whenever the other fish approached. Feeding the fish turned out to be a real highlight of our whole holiday.

Just along the beach was a jetty owned my the hotel. It was used as a pick up point for privately run boat trips. We walked along it until we got to the end. Sat on a ledge underneath was a local fisherman, his line dipped into the crystal clear water below. By his side were a couple of large fish. We said hello and he returned the greeting. Just then there was movement in the water. It was a snake. The man jumped up. "Sea snake!" he said. "Very bad!" We watched as it swam around at the edge of the jetty before disappearing again. I turned to Angela. We had been swimming not far from here earlier. Imagine if we'd been bitten by a deadly snake! It was time to go back to the airport. Our summer trip was over and it had been amazing.

Strengths:
-Beautiful beaches
-Cheap food and drink outside the hotels
-Friendly locals
-Glorious weather

Weaknesses:
-The main public beaches are crowded.
-Rude people in hotels

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Part of trip: South East Asia

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