It's Always Thailand Time

Is there really a way???

Faced with the impending terror of getting in my bathers at the end of winter, I did what any self respecting bogan would do.  Got a spray tan yo!!  Brown flab is so much better than white.  When I made the call to the salon round the corner I was asked if #1 If I could make it there in half an hour; and #2 If I could be a model.  "Are you serious?" I asked the girl on the phone "You would not be asking that if you could see me.  Winter has not been kind".  "Don't worry" she said cheerfully, "You're more like a practise person for a new student doing training".......Ah, I get it.  The Fuck-Up Person.  "Sure no worries".  Anything for a freebie.  There was a little bit too much time spent with two strangers peering at my arse cheeks as I bent over, but I must admit, she didn't do too much of a bad job, although one of my little fingers and the side of my hand were strangely deep brown.

A glamorised view

So here I am, slightly streaky and in Thailand faster than you can say "Give us a pad thai and a banana shake, my tiny little Thai friend".  Good old Thailand.  Favourite of backpackers and other scumbags the world over.  Although these days you get less bang for your buck than 18 years ago when I visited Thailand for the first time.  Then it was all new.  To me anyway.  I ended up on Koh Phangan (as you do),  dancing in the water at a full moon party with a glow stick and a bucket of Jim Beam and coke.  I literally mean bucket - they were all the rage back then.  I then abandoned my plans to travel the country and spent six weeks hanging with a bunch of sleazy shaman-types and freaked out flower children at a bungalow set-up, which was a boat-ride around the corner from the main beach of Haadrin.  They were all living on the proceeds of their dubious international border activities, and the savings earned from stripping at the hostess clubs in Tokyo.  Whatever finances your next bludge on the beaches of Asia I guess.  I never quite went there myself (too gutless and prudish), and hopefully I didn’t start calling people “sister”.  But I must admit to doing a spiritual belly-dancing course and wearing glitter as eyeshadow.

Reality is much more like this

But times change.  And 18 years later I am out of the five bucks a night shithole, and shacked up with a husband and two kids at the same glorious resort we tried out in December - a tiny private island, and a 5 minute speedboat ride from the Phuket Marina.  Mainly we’re trying to avoid the Aussie bogans that call Phuket their second Asian home – after Kuta Beach of course.  My first overseas trip was to good old Kuta at the tender age of just turned 18.  This is where I learnt that monkeys attack (and have a penchant for nipple biting), and also, after visiting a friend's bungalow one morning, that it is possible to actually shit your bed after too many shots.   It was also my first serious encounter with the ABO  factor (Australian Bogans Overseas).  And seeing as I have visited Gallipoli, it certainly was not the last.  Bogan knocking is such easy sport, and lots of fun.   That is until you investigate the website “What Bogans Like”, and realise that you are jiggy with far too many things on that list. For those of you who are disbelievers in your own boganity just have a little look.....and own up if you like Fascinators, 50 Shades of Grey, Cheap Petrol, Angus Beef, Zumba, Ducks, Losing Weight For Summer or  Car Parks.  Make sure you click on the ones you like and have a read.  It is embarrassing.

http://thingsboganslike.com/the-full-list/

And for all you superior types who think you’re so original and don’t resonate with anything on that list – just tune into “Stuff White People Like” - Roller Derby, TED, Picking Your Own Fruit, T-Shirts, Banksy and Snowboarding -  to feel like the knob that you are.

http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.com

Private lushness

The weather was shit.  Apart from not being able to show off my tan job I was fine with it.  Rain means more lazing around, and less activities.  Guilt free sleeping-in as well.  The Chinese tourists didn’t share my enthusiasm.  They used to sit on the sun lounges in the driving rain, holding an umbrella and staring wistfully out to sea.  They just couldn't accept that their imagined holiday by the pool was not an option, and therefore went for it anyway, rain be damned.  Actually most people were pretty gutted.  Crappy weather and a fortune in room charges brings out the worst in people – not to mention the added issue of the shits from too many chili flakes in your pad thai.  There is something everyone should consider though, when taking a family vacation.  And that is, you spend a lot of time with your kids.  A LOT.  I’m not saying that it’s bad........yet I am also not exactly pointing it out as a positive.  Just be prepared – there is no buffer zone.  This mean that there are sure to be times when you consider strapping on your backpack, applying some glitter to your upper lids, and heading as far away as possible for a solo mission of the mayhem and cheap thrills only a sheet of homemade LSD can bring.

No more gong, please no more

Our hotel, while seemingly luscious, had it’s quirky elements.  One thing is the gong you have to bang when you arrive and leave.  I was like “Oh Jesus, that fucking gong AGAIN??”.  Then there’s a general sort of offbeatness in the restaurants and some unorganised staff issues going on.  As I watched Valli and Cordi get face-painted to resemble zombie tigers, a panting red-faced American sprinted into the games room.  When he saw his 5 year old son in there (who’d been looked after by a Thai nanny for the previous 5 hours) he almost started crying.  “Oh God, Warren, son, Jesus Christ son, you’re ok, oh son, oh God”.  Apparently he’d rung reception to say he was going to be late to pick up his boy, and the person on the phone told him that his son had been taken by "people unknown" on a boat to the mainland.  Naturally he freaked out, got put through to Guest Services who then told him that nobody knew where his son was, and they had no idea what had happened to him.  Hence the avoided heart attack when he turned up to see Warren Junior happily playing in the ball pit.

They may be terrifying, but at least they were happy

now the girls look like they've got some terrible disease

We avoided the babysitting ourselves, but the staff still get involved with your kid's fun - which is nice (or not, depending on whether you are an animal).  The Thai water sport boys showed Valli and Cordi how to dig up crabs on the beach, and then taught them how to terrorise our crustacean chums by chasing them, screaming, poking them with sticks and throwing sand on them.  It’s better than last visit, when I’m pretty sure the same young dudes were emulating masturbation while blowing up the long balloons for the “Balloon Art” session.  I really needed their help myself one morning when I was gathering food from the buffet.  I felt a twitch in one of my runners.  I ripped it off only to see a tail of something uncool inside.  My husband got a fork, and finally managed to drag out a 15cm long millipede curled up inside.  Apparently they are dangerous.  Apparently I was lucky.

But weird staff, dubious food, awkward dinner dancing displays, poisonous insects and shit weather aside, Naka Island resort gets away with it all, because it is so bloody gorgeous.  Especially when they have a special, so that when you you stay 6 nights, 2 of them are free – and with a room upgrade thrown into the mix, you can kick back from your private swimming pool overlooking the beach and wonder how much it would cost to move in permanently.

Nice

It really is an unreal world there.  No cars, no noise, no random stinks, no peddlers, no dogs, no chronic diarrhoea.  It’s not really Thailand.  It’s a shock when you do enter reality again, as we found a week later when we pushed our way through the Phuket airport crowds with all our fellow boganic countrymen.  The girls fell over on the ground and became instantly filthy, there was nothing to eat except Subway and Burger King, and I got somebody else’s tomato sauce splatted across my crisp white dress when I sat down to drink a coffee.  Time for a spot of Zumba anybody?  Or a wine tour?  And hands up anyone who likes Bear Grylls?


Oh well, it was good while it lasted.