Racha Yai, underwater paradise

Patong has a really nice beach, if you are into them. I thought I should see what all the fuss was, but seeing as how I cant stand sand getting into places it just doesn’t belong, I thought I would do the next best thing and see what was under all that water.

So while Queen Jo-Jo and her harem decided to be one with nature and see the sights from Hefalump-back, I went scuba diving.



Phuket is renowned as one of the best places you can go to scuba dive. I was a bit anxious, as I had never been before, but when I had a chat with the friendly sales-rep at one of the many dive shops located in Patong, he put all my fears to bed. For next to nothing, I could go out for a whole day of sun, surf and really big fish (oh my!), all without any experience to hang my hat on.

After getting up late due to the alarm on the mobile (damn time zones!) I rushed out front, eagerly awaiting my pickup. Could have had my cuppa as it turned out, the ride was late. Anyway, feeling a bit grumpy, he finally turns up. I pile into the mini-van, and get to chatting with my new dive-buddies. Good mix of people, all friendly, and even a couple of Aussies!

We board a large boat run by the friendly team Scandinavian Diver, down at Chalong Bay, and proceeded out to our dive site, off the coast of a little island called Racha Yai. An hour later, we were getting rigged up. For some reason they had gotten my size wrong, so no wet-suit for me. Not caring though, as the water was a balmy 25 degrees C.



I was told a few basics by my instructor, the very helpful Kristian, and then I was waddling to the edge of the boat, with what felt like 100 kilos of lead on my back. Straight down to the bottom first, have to do a bit of training with the breathing regulator.



After a few false starts with the weights (I kept floating up!), I was as ready as I was going to get. A bit panicky with the breathing, but it seemed to settle down pretty quick, as I kept getting distracted by all the amazing sights.



It was another world down there, like slowly flying by as the world passed beneath me. Visibility was awesome, at least 30 meters.



There were fish galore, too many to count. Corals, anemones and other stuff I can’t even begin to name. After 40 minutes, which felt like just 5, I had to ascend as my air was getting low.
Up goes a flag so the boat knows where we are, and before you know it. I was back aboard.



After a lengthy lunch break, I was ready for more. Down we went again, this time a bit deeper – 12 meters or so, as I am just a newbie. This dive was even better, as I could concentrate more on the sights, and less on how goofy I felt in the giant flippers.



It wasn’t long before we came across a sea snake. I got within a foot of it, to see better - I didn’t think about it until a lot later, but they are very deadly (and me being petrified of snakes too!).

Again it was over too quickly. This time the boat was a long way off, and I spent the next 30 minutes treading water, getting pulled further and further away from the island. All ended well, just as I thought they would have to send out the search boat, the captain saw us, and back aboard safe I was.

Highly recommended, and I will definitely be back for more.

Getting Miffed.

Ok I am grumpy now also. NOT ONE Of the bloody members as outlined above have contributed to this blog. This makes me grumpy. Not even a single bloody comment. Or even a bloddy one! Now they expect me to book the Kik'n'Back shack at Mandorah! The Impudence! The Gall! The just plain cheekiness! THe...The...the... oh forget it.

I miss my 'sickle.

One of the most fun activities on this trip was renting motorbikes. I loved my 'sickle and miss it immensely. Every day I would pop into a motorbike rental place and check the prices for renting a bike and I had spent two or three days eyeing off the traffic around Patong, trying to convince myself that I could cope with it. Except the problem was, that I didn't have a motorbike license and did not really know how to ride. Well, that changes pretty quickly in Thailand...

After enough self-talk and annoying the crew with "I am gonna get a bike" talk, I needed action and marched on down the road to the first rental place I could find. There was a little kid sitting next to two bikes and I ask, "How much?" He says "Que?" I think to myself, oh this is going to be a long day...

But I persevere with the kid (I cant remember his name) and we finally got to an agreeable price which I knew I could get on every other street corner. He pulls out an agreement form for me to fill out. I start penning it out and get to a section where it asks for a Passport number. SHIT! How annoying. I have to go back to my hotel to get my passport when I am sooo bloody close. Anyway, I think to myself, "Hold on, if just keep going and give him back the form, maybe he won't ask for it?" He points to the passport column just as I am thinking this. Right then. I try to communicate again. "I GO TO HOTEL TO GET PASSPORT" I say looking flustered, pointing and gesticulating like a mad bloody tourist who didn't bother to learn a single word of Thai... After a minute he understands and grabs me the spiffy little helmet you can see here and starts up the bike for me. "Que?" I say. Poor little kid must be getting over this too...

His understanding is that I want to take the bike back to the hotel, get my passport and complete the deal - and furthermore, he wants to jump on the back of the bike and come with me! WHAT! I start shaking my head with thoughts of look boy, I am not sure you realise the predicament we will be in if we do this. I had always planned to get the bike and ride straight through the markets to the wide lanes where I know I can ride around and get used to the bike. I try to explain. Look matey, I am just gonna run up the street and get my passport. He is convinced that I want to ride there and he is coming with me.
Hmmmm...ok, fine bugger it. Lets give it a go (as my hands start to shake a little). So my first moments on a bike in real life, involve me being pillion passengered up, with a kid, without a helmet and pulling out onto one of the three main roads of Patong. Here we go.

But, we make it to the hotel without a single drama. Surprising really in that I didn't figure out where the horn or the indicators were until several hours later. I was a little anxious and nervy as we arrived, but mostly with the excitement of not maiming this kid or myself. I jogged into the room to get my passport and managed to get the reception desk to take a copy and "I'm done" and all signed up! Or so it seemed. Kid now says "We go Anon". Yes of course I say. "Que?". He gets on the bike, tells me to jump on and we start racing up the main road to a little stall where he asks for "Mr Anon" to come out from a building that looks not so nice or friendly. Mr Anon owns the bikes and the kid is just the street seller as it turns out. I should have guessed from all the Mr Anon stickers all over it... I am a getting a little weary now. But, there are no problems - Anon is a pretty good guy and we chat for a little while. Mr Anon is the one who holds deposits and passports - DEPOSITS! Bugger I forgot about that bit. He says 3000 Baht ($120) deposit. I say "Mate, I don't have it" which I did, but I was not planning to go back to the hotel to get it. He looks me up and down and says, "Ok, you ok, no problem" and throws a big smile at me and we shake hands. I love these people. This is great I am thinking, especially when I saw him put the photocopy of my passport into his bag, which contained a tonne of Baht and actual passports. I couldn't believe that people actually give up their passport to this sort of a bloke. But then I again I thought, hold on, this is Thailand and everyone has been amazing so far. Its just that kind of place where you could give your passport to someone and actually get it back it seems.

So, I have my bike and I am off. No more than literally two minutes into it, my boyish youth side comes out and I really get into the swing and flow of the traffic. This was BLOODY AMAZING - what a rush. To be a virgin to Patong roads and being protected by a helmet that was made of nothing stronger than bucket material was mind blowing. The level of concentration I was forced to employ to exude suitable awareness being a novice bike rider was phenomenal. But honestly, it felt really comfortable. I was surprised how much vision I had as well as the awareness of the other bikes and traffic around me - my endorphins and whatever other chemicals were flowing around my body, giving off an amphetamine quality level of focus with my surroundings and detail assessment. I could get used to this. Until I happen to see a mirror and understand that not only do I look like a tourist, but also like a really big bloody nerd with this helmet on. Why did Wayne get a cool one? Damn it - I am jealous as hell that next day due to Wayne's helmet. In that first day, after my confidence was at the point where I thought I could tackle anything, I started exploring all and any back streets of Patong Beach as well as riding down to Karon, the other big beach at Phuket. It is an exceedingly visceral experience to be riding around back streets of a town you have never been to before and just exploring, knowing that if something happens to you or the bike, you are going to be in for a long tough day. But to tell the truth, these thoughts did not bother me at all. It's almost as if I didn't care if something inconvenient happened, because it would serve to test my own abilities to cope with situations, when there is no one watching. No one to call, no one else to rely on. So, becoming one with the back streets of Patong I decided it was time to keep going elsewhere. I crossed the hill at the back of Patong and headed towards I don't know where. My mission was simple, ride for ages until I find some shopping centres or get freaked out and feel the need to return. Needless to say this was great, everywhere I went - on shitty roads, on main highways, on goat tracks and mountain climbs, my sweet little bike (although groaning and complaining bitterly at 105km/h) did an amazing job of keeping me safe and powering through traffic and taking me places, the likes of which I had not seen before (and where I would not dare drive a car). However, there were two times where I lost my sense of direction completely, not direction to return home, but to where I wanted to go. Both times that I stopped to check out the map, a stranger would walk over and try to help. This was amazing to me. I wasn't particularly worried about not knowing my way, but just looking for shopping centres of interest and someone would make the time to come and help. I loved this. And furthermore and moreover, all these little back streets and alleys I explored did more than just that - everytime anybody looked at me, I'd attempt a smile and every single time, the people would send one straight back at me. This is the best. How could you possibly be worried about anything, when every single person you smile at smiles back, even in the dirtiest and darkest parts. I love this.

So I continue back to the Baumanburi after hours on my bike. The entire day of riding like a tourist (i.e. gunning up mountain climbs, racing Tuk Tuks at every opportunity and powering down highways) only used half a tank of fuel. That is 60 BAHT! $2AUD! You little beauty.

So, the breakdown is:
200Baht for the bike day one
150Baht for the bike day two
180Baht altogether for two tanks of fuel
530Baht total = $19.

Nineteen dollars for two days of great fun. Beat that.

The thing now is, for anyone who reads this and says, "yeah but every body in their 20's goes to Bali and Thailand and gets a bike and does this stuff" or "this is not that big a deal", I say in response "nuts to you". I didn't know how to ride a bike before this and I had a blast. (BTW no one has actually said anything like the above yet, just trying to pre-empt)

Furthermore, if there is anyone who is really easy going and gets off on anything that's mildly interesting & living in Darwin, I have a proposition. I plan on getting a bigger bike in Singapore and doing a motorbike tour from there, up the West coast of Malaysia, through Johor Baharu, Pinang, Kuala Lumpur and then staying somewhere nice in Langkawi for a couple of Days. Then, continuing into Thailand and Hat Yai and then down the east coast of Malaysia back into Singapore. This trip is planned to be all about food and the bikes, with suitable and sustainable levels of drinking and sightseeing in between also. So if you are interested or know someone that might be, let me know.

Really Great Porn

We all agreed that we will always have plenty of time for Porn. Yay for PORN!

Mr Somporn was our impromptu tour guide. He asked us to call him Porn which we readily took on board, after we stopped our giggling and saw that name on his business card.
Nearing the end of our trip, we still hadn't made the effort as a group to get our arses to Phuket City. It has a population of around 80,000 apparently with 30,000 or so transient peoples. It is only about 30 minutes by road from Patong. Patrick Segal had also made a conscious effort to make it to Phuket, and had a wander over to our local cab rank (neatly outside our 7 eleven, outside our hotel) while I was off with my motorsickle screaming around Patong and discovering what I though was the "heart" of Thailand's back streets. This effort by Pat proved to be a masterstroke of international diplomacy and planning. Pat had negotiated with Porn to take us as a group to Phuket city, hang around while we shopped for a few hours and then back to Patong for 300 Baht. ($12ish) Its important to note here, that Porn is pretty much the friendliest cabby I have ever met. Upon meeting Pat those two had some sort of a strange bonding ritual involving belly rubs or something... where Porn was guessing Pats weight or something. PAT HELP HERE! So the next day we all jumped into the Cab, while I managed to convince Wayne to get himself a motosickle of his own, and as a group we fled Patong. **SEGUE - I was looking for prime shopping spots to pick up some cheap perfumes. Let me offer free advice - DO NOT GO SHOPPING FOR PERFUMES/COLOGNES IN PHUKET EVEN THE DUTY FREE. If you are going through Singapore, buy it there. Duty free if you want gift with purchase, or alternatively at Lucky Plaza if you want save a few deca-dollars. I can confirm that the perfumes at Lucky Plaza are not knock offs and you can save heaps off the marked price with a bit of bargaining (I paid $40AUD for an $80AUD bottle of Bulgari)END SEGUE**
So the plan was to cross the hills at the back of Patong and meet up at the Central Festival Shopping centre I found the day before. This is one of those massive behemoth shopping centres you find in any city around the world, cinemas, cafes, supermarkets, restaurants etc built in. The supermarket was one of the best I have ever had the pleasure of shopping in. Its no secret to those who know me, I love a bit of grocery shopping and this place was pretty bloody heavenly. They have all the same stuff we have in Coles here, except so much more! The other bonus is the massive price range of all these goods. You have your good cheapness for most items, through to exhorbitantly expensive items, such as a tea cannister I found going for $45AUD! But anyway, during the ride out, the team in Porn's cab talked to him about giving us a bit more of a tour around Phuket town and he was bloody enthusiastic about it and wanted to show us a lot of "Real Phuket" the stuff that most tourists apparently dont see. After a fair bit more shopping and a quick bite at the deli's, we thought Porn would be getting pretty bored by us having spent almost two hours at this Central Festival. So we walked on down to meet him and settled on moving towards our next destination. I had the maps in my bag, so I talked to Porn to see where we were going and after sharing a smoke we were off with me having a clear idea in my head of where to and how to get there. I found out at this stage that I am not so good with maps.... Hers another tip: Be good to your mother. And another: Dont assume that maps in Phuket include all intersections with traffic lights and that the Anglicised name of streets on maps is the same as those on signposts. After a quick excersion to determine where we were going Wayne and I found the Buddha we were looking for and as you can see, its not that bloody small! This Buddha was nestled on a hill side somewhere above Phuket and as you can see we are the only people here! Of course at the top of this hill there were tonnes of tourists, but Porn's tour to places tourists dont really go was already true. We continued on up the hill to get a view of Phuket from above before we got to explore the city. At this point Wayne and I decided my map reading skills were as good as my helmet hair, so we decided to tail gate Porn in his cab for the rest of the day. He took us to a bunch of great spots for visuals of the city and to Wat Chalong, a temple complex where we met his family.



TO BE CONTINUED

The Pool Access Rooms

The scariest thing about choosing hotels from websites is that you are never quite sure how doctored the images are and what you are actually going to get. I cant imagine how hard it was to book accom prior to the internet. But we lucked out at the Baumanburi.


















We took the option of Pool Access Rooms which was spot on, to what we required except we didnt know it until we got there. There was fear about the room as many of the web shots showed NO FURNITURE on the balcones. But as you can see this was not a problem, particualrly as we had three rooms next to each other and consolidated our seating and tables to whoevers room had the most Singhas on hand.










It is important to note, that the Baron Beer bought in Singapore (as seen here), is 8.0% and tastes Y.U.C.K.O, but helped alleviate between-Singha-pains. This happened on a couple of occassions early in the trip due to our 7-Eleven not being fore-warned that there were six Australians coming.Gnomey was much better bhaved in these early stages while he was still unwinding. Little did we know what a monster he would turn into. And speaking of monsters, tis photo is a lesson about why people in shorts should never cross their legs, and why it is a photographers ethical purpose to attempt to limit the amount of skin on display in each photo, as can be witnessed by the skin we are all showing here.

Pall Mall and the Come Down

Coming down is hard. This last week has mostly sucked. Just like every one else in the world I assume, I am used to coming down after a holiday for a few days, but this one seemed to drag a little longer and was being circumnavigated by bit of a sense of dread. However this day (Tuesday one week later) it seems to be over and thank Khrist for that.

I think I can narrow down the causes of the dreadness:
I hadn't had a cigarette since 31 December 2005 (except for the bum-puffed Polish Menthol smoke at my sisters wedding on Hamilton Island In February)However I kinda planned to perhaps smoke for the duration of the holiday, just to unwind that little bit further. Of course smokes are $11.00 a pack in Singapore so that plan was quickly delayed until Phuket, where we experienced good cheapness 45 Thai Baht a pack ($1.64AUD - I hope those taxes are going back into the health system...) Anyway the point is that cost was no longer an issue, instead trying to determine "Light" Cigarettes was. Cigarettes are not on display in Phuket and instead of holding up the line at the 7 Eleven too long, I tried to communicate "light" to the attendant by using all sorts of English words, erratic hand gestures and Egyptian Hyroglyphics. 'cousrse it didnt work - Stupid bloody tourist. SEGUE I made a fuss on our last night in Oz at Pirates Bar about how we should make an effort at learning local language at least a little, to not perpetuate that arrogant bloody tourist stereotype expecting everyone to speak English. The lonely planet phrasebook was purchased. END SEGUE So, smoking was resumed that day with "L&M" brand Menthols at about 22mg I think. Cough, splutter and instant cancer. It felt good to smoke again and nothing is better than a Singha with smoking support next to the pool. I continued smoking through out the Holiday, having my final cigarette ("borrowed") from Wayne at the Singapore airport after smoking a full $11.00 pack of Marlboro lights in the "Final Afternoon Tiger Session" in Singapore on that final day. Cough bloody splutter and runny nose on the plane. So this is one cause of my loss of holiday sensation being magnified by withdrawal of cigarettes, even though it was only one week I am a wuss these days to chemical influence.



No I know that beer is always sooo much drinkable while on Holiday, but it is likely that this is the best beer in the world. And there is no way in hell taht I will blame anything on this sweet precious. [SEE POST ON SINGHA]


The other cause of the personal feeling of dread after the holiday is likely the return to reality factor. The issues being the 10 days off study, 10 days of my work inbox filling up with shit I have to do upon return, 10 days of dust piling up in my living space. But I am not sure that this is any aprticular cause of post holiday dread. I have googled post vacation withdrawal and depressions etc etc with not much luck. So we need some post-grad Psychology student to assess these symptoms somewhere around the world. Maybe we can eventually write in 10 days of leave for "Post Holiday Un Kempt Exit Depression" (P.H.U.K.E.D) or "Post Holiday Un Kempt Exit Trauma" (P.H.U.K.E.T) into the EBA... oh shit whoops - IR reforms. I forgot.

What we may be able to put this trauma down to is perhaps the "end of freedom". By no means is my life a jail at the moment and to tell you the truth I am quite happy with the people in my life and the way it points towards the future. But the sense of freedom to wake up every day and do anything at all, including sitting on arse and doing nothing in a tropical paradise with all the creature comforts of beer and food and knowing you have all the funds and people to do it with, is a great way to live. It is clear the the highs of riding a motorbike through Patong traffic alone, with nary the same amount of plastic involved in the manufacture of a pen as protection, the going on a drunken rampage in a foreign town on the piss with a bunch of Italians at a football game at 4:00am and the fantastic food, must create the equal lows in return. This whole thing is about the withdrawal of Freedom!

But importantly I am over it now and happy again and ready to start saving for the next holiday!

The Big Eatin's Cheatin' Gnome

What a cheeky little bugger Gnomey turned out to be. All of us decided that we just wont travel with him EVER AGAIN. The attitude and, the TONE! everybody fell out with him at some stage of the trip.

He really annoyed us with Money issues, alcoholism, making a fool out of himself and embarrassing us cracking onto the she-males, and of course the big search for gnomey one night after he snorted all that coke. We looked for him for hours the little bastard.

Gnomey - Where are you???

The Nam Som Sai Chu Issue Factor

The most delicious condiment in the world is found in almost all the Thai restaurants in Patong, being thinly sliced chillis soaked in vinegar and palm sugar. My eating on this trip was dictated by the need for this, but, for some reason it was increasingly difficult to order it, perhaps due to the several variations namely the exclusion of palm sugar. The reasons are outlined below.

My confusion ran off this list:
Prik Nam Pla (chillies in fish Sauce)
Nam (Sauce)
Som (Orange)
Som (Fork)
Prik (Chilli)
Nam Som (Orange Juice)
Nam Som Paep (Palm Sugar)
Nam Som Sai Chu (lit. "Sour Wine" chilli slices in Vinegar)
Prik Nam Som (chilli slices in vinegar)
Nam Prik (Hot Chili Paste Sauce, a watery sauce of shrimp paste and chili)

So the first day, I received this tangy marvel and asked immediately what it was called and they said "Nam Som". So I jump into the lonely planet phrase book and confirm Nam Som as sliced chillies in vinegar. Of course at the back of the phrase book, lonely planet marks Nam Som as orange juice.

But I digress. The next time I ask for Nam Som, I get looks of outstanding bewilderment, thinking jesus christ, is my pronunciation that bad??? How can you get 6 letters wrong? Redfaced and embarrased I try Prik Nam Som? Nope. I sheepishly track down their condiments shelf and get what I need and ask the name. This time I get something along the lines of "Nam Som Saai Chu."

Ok Next restaurant, I promptly order my meal and when it arrives I ask for a Nam Som Su Chee - getting it completely wrong, because my mind map remembered Aung Sung Su Chi, the burmese freedom fighter chick.) Of course after once again having bemused confused looks from the friendly staff and my face going bright red again, I get served a bottle of tomato/chilli sauce. Humbly, I get up and track down the vinegar I require and once again ask the name. Of course, this restaurant says "Nam Som". AAAAARRRRRRGGGHHHHHH I cant win!

Right, I try again at our hotel's pool bar, firmly convinced that I can't lose. Armed with a "Nam Som" together with an expressive pointing gesture to my food, also miming the act of applying vinegar to my dish. I say it to our favourite barman Witoon and he seems to understand exactly what I am after with my Chicken with Cashew dish. AHA! Success, or so I believe. 5 minutes later, the other barman pops an orange juice on the counter.

I am stunned. And promptly bury my head in my hands. "What the hell is wrong with me???" I try "Prik Nam Som" and I get a look of disbelief from Witoon and they chatter amongst themselves. They both agree to something as my dining companions are wetting themselves with laughter at another of my failed attempt at personalised condimensation. Ok, now barman number two has a smile on his face with a look of understanding and reaches into the fridge and grabs me a bottle of Fanta.

I sob quietly and gesture towards my food once more as I apply a look of pleading to Witoon.

AHA! The largest lightbulb in the world appears above his head. By Jove I think he's got it! He states proudly "AH...Nam Som Saai Chu!" I light up with relieved anguishment and joy "Yes, Yes! Dear barman yes!" out comes my vinegar and chillis. and I am in bliss.

Koh Panyi

Koh Panyi was one of my favourite things, along with rain drops on roses and whiskers on kittens.
It is a Thai Fishing village built on stilts, within the Bay of Phang Nga, several loud minutes by long boat from James Bond Island. There was a big touristy bit at the start but, we ran into a lovely she-male with a monkey and it was all good from there.

The food was as expected bloody delicious, but unfortunately being a muslim village, NO Singhas were available! Can you imagine our pain? I think the next episode of Survivor should be filmed here.

Final day in Singapore!

Many Tiger King Browns between us this day.... About half way into the session, it started to rain a lot - is there anything nicer to be outdoors on the piss, while its pissing down in another city??? Yay! This spot is next to our hotel with delicious Laksas and grumpy cooks.

Same session and this is around 4.00pm. I had a Tiger Longneck from the night before in my bag which, needless to say, the establishment were none to pleased about when I cracked it open! However after we attempted to buy out their stock of Tigers, they were ok with it. Funny that.

Queen Jo Jo

Jo had one Single Mission on this holiday, as dictated by Kassandra (daughter), to ride a heffalump and get snapped doing it. The bloke she is riding is a 45 year old male who was a steady as a drunken mountain goat, but sure footed as a sober one.

These are the two cutie other cutie-pies. The one on Jo's left was a cheeky little 35 year old, who attempted to hypnotize us, by swaying slowly and waving her trunk. She did this to convince us to hand over the bunch of bananas we had on our table, the little blighter! Needless to say, the bananas taste a lot better than the cactus they were eating.

Pat's free callisthenics lesson

"Ok everyone - follow me. Hands on hips!"
This is of course, "James Bond Island" from the "Man with the Golden Gun". It is known by the locals as "James Bond Island" and its real name is "James Bond Island" in Phang Nga Bay. This was a fantastic day, riding in nutso longtail boats with big mutha 6 cyclinder tractor and aeroplane motors in the back of them. The drivers handed out cotton wool upon embarkation because, as you can imagine, its a LITTLE NOISY!

A scene from the movie in case you have forgotten, or you think I am lying...


We also decided that this is the busiest port in Phuket and the tiny little island has Singhas on Sale! Yay For Singhas!
Which of course need to be consumed in front of the big rocky thing....with a little bit of man lovin' thrown in...


BAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRP!!! BAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRPPP!!