At first glance, the square in front of Phuket International Airport’s exit looks like a bazaar. A vibrant crowd of half-naked people shouting, worming wildly and waving their arms while running from place to place. Most of them with a permanent, wide smile stuck on their faces. All of this happens at around forty degrees Celsius and with an air humidity of ninety percent. Without any exaggeration – going outside from the air-conditioned arrivals hall is a shock to the body and mind, a bit like entering a sauna full of people.
I had booked a transfer from the airport and was now wondering how my taxi driver would find me in such madness. However, after a while I began to notice certain regularities in this chaos and saw a low fence with hundreds of small pieces of paper attached. On one of those post-it notes, I could see my name and surname, slightly misspelled.
Two young Thai women were sitting behind the fence, very busy with their smartphones. They were dressed rather sparsely and were wearing flip-flops on their feet. I tore off the piece of paper and attached it to my chest, drawing the attention of one of the girls. A fence-like gate opened slowly, without rushing, and I was admitted inside and given a comfortable plastic chair. ‘Wait here!’ — commanded the Thai girl and returned to her phone.
Now I was sitting in the middle of an artificial lawn and watching the pandemonium unfold. The doors from the airport slid aside every few seconds, spitting out masses of white faces dragging huge suitcases or carrying backpacks. The crowd moved slowly forward, foot by foot, spilling sideways, climbing into minibuses, taxis, cars, and finally thinning. After a while, the airport door opened and traffic began all over again. What seemed like a huge pump sucked people out of the arrivals hall and forced them into three rows of vehicles in a cycle of several seconds. It was a bit like watching an automatic washing machine work, lots of movement but quite monotonous.
It was really hot. After a few minutes, my clothes stuck to my body and I began to doze off in the chair. The two young Thai women did not pay attention to me at all. I was beginning to wonder if they had forgotten me or if there had been a mistake and I had to find my own transport. To get the girls' attention, I got up from my chair and took a few steps towards them. One of them looked away from the phone for a moment and gestured overbearingly with one of her fingers for me to return to the chair. I must admit that I had never met such a “neutral” customer service, but in fact I was in no rush and everyone around me smiled in a friendly manner, so I kept waiting.
I had been travelling for over twenty hours now and besides being slightly tired, I was starting to “smell” a bit. As I started unpacking my suitcase and changing into some fresh clothes, a young, dark, smartly dressed Thai man showed up and took my luggage without saying a word, smiling happily. I guessed he was my long-awaited taxi driver, so without protest I followed him towards the car park and after a while I was in an air-conditioned van.
We left the airport and were immediately enveloped by the wave of vehicles and the swarms of mopeds that seemed to be everywhere. Driving on the two-lane street, we moved slowly due to the mopeds, motorbikes, tricycles, tuk-tuks, cars, trucks, buses, and pickups that had congested the road. Traffic was heavy! After half an hour, we entered a maze of small streets, which was even more congested. At times, my taxi slowed down to a walking pace. Occasionally, a stern-looking policeman attempted to control the chaotic scene, but few people paid him any attention.
Surprisingly, there were no collisions, although mopeds often overtook us, using the narrow footpaths or travelling against the traffic. The noise was overwhelming, as everyone was using their horns to gain attention when overtaking.
Eventually, we arrived safely at the hotel. I had paid for the transfer online, so I only gave the driver a few Thai notes from my pocket as a tip. He looked very pleased and bowed and smiled many times. It's hard to say what he really thought about me, as I only later realized that I had given him about fifty cents.
My room was large and elegant. The air conditioning was quiet and did not blow cold air directly onto the bed. In some places I had stayed, the air conditioning system was so powerful that it felt like I had been frozen in Walt Disney body-style.
The bathroom was huge and immaculate. I was already enjoying my stay here. I quickly changed into shorts and a thin T-shirt, and, as my stomach was grumbling with hunger, it was time to find a place to eat.
Little green geckos crawled up the walls in the long corridor leading to the reception area. They stopped for a few seconds without moving, then quickly disappeared from sight.
The reception staff, who were all attractive young women, advised me that there were eateries offering a wide variety of world cuisine just a five-minute walk away. I went back to my room to fetch my wallet. I needed to exchange euros for baht. When I returned to the reception desk, a young boy was now sitting there. He took a careful look around, and the smile disappeared from his face for a microsecond when I asked about exchanging money in Thailand. He told me that I could exchange it with them, but quietly added that it did not pay. He advised me to go to an exchange office near the hotel, which had much better rates. Over the two weeks that I stayed at the hotel, we became friends, and he was very helpful in giving me good advice. On my last day there, I thanked him with a generous tip.
So, I went outside to find something to eat. It was hot, but this was my kind of vibe – I start to feel really comfortable when the temperature is above thirty degrees Celsius.
This district was called Bang Tao and my hotel was near an area called Laguna. Rumour had it that it was a bit more expensive here than in other Bang Tao places, but I had nothing to compare it to yet. A clean, well-kept street led me straight to a crossroads with many restaurants. I was indecisive about what I wanted to eat, so I stood around hesitantly.
Suddenly, I noticed a Thai woman who was staring at me like a hawk. She looked to be in her forties and was standing behind the counter of a small bar with a sign saying “Thailicious”.
Drawn in by her intense gaze, I sat down at one of the three tables and ordered a beer. The woman brought me a bottle of beer placed in a special foam holder to keep the liquid cool. The first sip was pleasantly cool indeed, but it soon became lukewarm. This was no surprise, as it was almost noon and the air temperature was around forty degrees Celsius. The street was deserted; I guessed that everyone was either at home, hiding from the heat, or sitting on the beach.
The Thai woman had a very direct approach with her customers: she came close, smiled like an old friend and placed her hand on my shoulder.
‘What would you like to eat?’ she asked.
‘What do you have?’
‘We have everything,’ she said, and put the menu in front of me. One of her eyes shifted slightly to one side, as if she couldn't hold my gaze, but quickly came back. We say such people have “evil eyesight” or a divergent squint.
I read the three-language menu and, out of the corner of my eye, watched as three young Chinese boys negotiated the price of renting mopeds.
Mopeds for hire were everywhere – virtually in front of every shop and bar. Here too. The negotiations behind me were over, the Chinese boys were leaving, and the “evil eye” was giving me her full attention again.
‘Have you chosen anything?’ she asked.
‘Yes. Can I get fresh fish and some chips?’
‘We don’t have fresh fish at the moment; it will be delivered in the evening. I can give you a frozen one – it’s not too bad,’ she said convincingly, her eye shifting a little again.
‘OK, I’ll give it a try.’
I was hungry and didn't want to risk ordering dishes that I'd never heard of; ninety-nine percent of the menu told me nothing. The “evil eye” went behind the buffet and started a conversation with a much younger girl who stood there with a bored smile on her face. I saw them scurrying around, opening all the refrigerators and freezers one by one. I thought they were arguing vivaciously, though since I didn't know a word of Thai, I might have been wrong. Anyway, they moved with great energy and, after a while, the fish was frying and its smell could be sensed all around. The “evil eye” brought another bottle of beer and replaced the old one very slowly, as if giving me time to say no. But I wouldn't say no; it was hot, and the beer was fine. It was called “Chang” – the elephant.
She asked me where I was from, when I'd arrived and how long I was staying in Thailand. At the same time, without interrupting our conversation, she shouted friendly words to almost every tourist who passed by. It was obvious that she liked it, and people responded in the same friendly way.
Now and then a local man or woman stopped their moped by us and chatted warmly with her, which sounded like gurgling to me. Every such conversation ended with folded hands, a slight bow and smiles. It looked nice.
A young co-worker screamed from the kitchen and a large plate landed on my table. Fish and chips! I know a little bit about fries and what I had now in front of me, in my opinion, was clearly disgusting. It was most likely the cheapest frozen stuff available in any supermarket. The fish, on the other hand, was as hard as the sole of my sandals. This was supposed to be the great Thai food?! I struggled with the contents of my plate for a while, washed it down with plenty of beer and sincerely promised myself that, next time before going somewhere for a meal, I would check the ratings online first.
‘You didn't like it,’ said the “evil eye”. A fact that was very difficult to deny. ‘Come back tomorrow, and we'll have plenty of good food.’
‘I sure will,’ I lied politely.
We looked at each other; her eyes shifted to the side, while mine stayed in place. She was nice, but the food served here was a disaster. I paid an exorbitant bill and hastily left, bowing and smiling repeatedly.
Just around the corner, I found the nearby Burger King, where everything had its familiar taste. I ordered a Whopper meal and a large Latte, and finally I could eat and relax.
On my way back to the hotel, I couldn't help but notice that I hadn't seen a single elderly person all day. Everywhere I looked, it seemed that young people, practically children, were thriving. I returned to my room, switched on the air conditioning, and slept for twenty-four hours, allowing myself to recover from my long journey and jet lag.
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