Phuket, Thailand

Ahh Thailand.

Massages, massaman curry, banana pancakes, pressed laundry. How I love you so.

First things first. I’m retiring my lone wolf act for three weeks to travel with Mark (Ireland) and Matt (NZ) off of Surfers Paradise a month ago. We are like a little hippy commune and reunite amoungst the baggage carousels of Bangkok International like the opening credits of Love Actually. Yes, technically there should be a little Bangkok interlude here, just for one night before we hit the islands. The wave of shopaholic destruction reached new heights along my old favourite Khao San Road. More tee’s, bikinis & earrings that I flock to like a vintage market magpie.

But back to Phuket. For years now whenever anyone mentions Phuket, I’ve quite wrongly done that whole:

‘Oh it’s nothing but a trashy, sleazy, sex tourism capital.’

This is silly because a) You should never judge anywhere/thing before you try it and b) although being completely true on all three accounts, that doesn’t necessarily make it a bad place – although it is indeed sadly high on the seedy sex trade which is kind of hard to overlook. 

It’s actually quite lacking in travellers (It’s low-ish/wet season). We have a whole bowling alley to ourselves on a Saturday afternoon. Yes, Ten Pin Bowling. A bit early 90’s I know, but it was raining, and you know it’s awesome, even aged 28.

Phuket’s taxi drivers/beach sellers are the most polite in the world. We buy some Raybands from the best little Del Boy we’ve ever met; Loc (aged 10) who makes us laugh for hours with his sales pitch. (To Matt: You are so ugly in your old glasses you can’t look in my mirror. And to me: You look like the colour of chocolate. Yum?!) I want to adopt him.

We also had quite the experience (we’re still not really sure how all three of us feel about it) with an aloe vera massage on Patong Beach. Now, I ‘ve had one of these before, but this was in another league as a lady butchered three plants and smeared us head to toe in so much snotty gunk it mimicked a dinosaur sneezing on us. It was like a scene out of Alien or the birth of three new-born babies. Grossness. But we do have gleaming soft skin.

In the same vein, I ditched the boys and wandered transfixed into a shop I’d been eyeing up for days in the central shopping mall. It was gleaming white with beds and industrial machinery and advertised $300 (£6.00) Japanese style facials. Well. Let me tell you it was the most intense, worthwhile, yet excruciatingly painful experience of my entire life. A nice lady took it upon herself to blast my face with a laser whilst muttering the word ‘no danger’ (until that point I hadn’t presumed there was.) Then annihilating my pores with tweezers to squeeze my (numerous) blackheads. Tears actually streamed down my (broken) face and I nearly tattooed my own arm with the pressure of my fingernails digging into my skin to handle the pain. She did however round off the whole experience by caking me in makeup, which, despite being an incey wincy bit in the style of Thai hooker, I was actually quite taken with.  Plus it was very appropriate for our evening on the strip watching Ping Pong shows. Which I can’t even elaborate on as I’m still deep in therapy. You do not even want to know.

 

 

 

 

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An.an.tas.in : The Anantasin is the name of a shipwreck just of the coast of the Sensi Parasise, Mae Haad Bay, Koh Tao, Thailand. It’s one of my many favorite places.

Lit.tle: Just because it’s cute.

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