Don't Phuket up

We didn’t actually do a lot in Phuket, other than get pathetically sunburnt in typical Englander-abroad style while lounging around beach/poolside at a hotel that in truth was far too swank for the likes of me. But here are a few pictures for you to cast envious glances at, and some general observations on our time on the island.

• Apologies in advance for banging on about how nice our hotel package was, but it really makes a difference to be welcomed at the airport by a driver waving a card with your name on it. The roads in Phuket aren’t quite as chaotic as Bangkok’s, but lane changing still triggered involuntary buttock-clenching and the number of helmetless youngsters on motorbikes was worryingly high.
• Once we got to our base in Kata, the roads became hilly, twisty and pavementless but still the bikes kept coming, many ridden by white folks. I could not think of anything less fun than hiring an exposed vehicle to zoom around foreign roads governed by a rudimentary highway code (“1. Try not to crash. 2. The end.”).

• Kata is a smallish town totally built around tourism, and certainly didn’t feel like the “real” Thailand, if such a thing even exists in the digital age. As noted, we didn’t visit any other parts of the island bar the airport (not even the Big Buddha a few kilometres up the road), so maybe a more parochial vibe exists elsewhere. But perhaps the package-holiday paradise of the tourist brochures has become the authentic face of Thailand, and with the untapped income potential still vast (there were lots of Russians holidaying in Phuket, but plenty more nations still out there), you can hardly blame the Thais if that’s what they’re now aspiring to.
• Every other business in town seemed to offer laundry service, massage or both. The ratio of masseurs to punters looked to be ridiculously high, but then we weren’t there in high season and we still had a massage every day, so maybe they do earn a decent living all told. The service was generally very good and the overall effect was always one of relaxation, although each masseur has their own unique methods of pain infliction, just in case you get too comfortable.

• Speaking of customer numbers, a disagreement was had regarding eateries and Tripadvisor – the site is self-evidently handy for locating the best food options, but is it preferable to eat well in a semi-empty establishment tucked away on a side street, or to have mediocre food in the livelier atmosphere of a restaurant on the main drag? Unless the former option offered sublime grub, I would veer towards the latter (sorry dear), although one little place we went to played the same five Elvis songs on a loop, which was certainly entertainment of a sort.
• The Thais love their monarchy, making us look like a nation of diehard Republicans in comparison. Roadside likenesses of King Rama IX and “long live the King” slogans abound, and woe betide the tourist who gets caught laughing at his real name Bhumibol, which of course is not remotely amusing (although I remember Michael Barrymore eking out a solid five minutes of “comedy” from it on Strike it Lucky a few years back).
• They love 7-Elevens too - there are absolutely loads of them. I don't know why.

• The hotel (Mom Tri's Villa Royale) was idyllic, the beach was clean and golden, the sea was warm and crystal-blue... you're sick of hearing about this aren't you?
• Finally, the airport on the way out was truly cacophonous, full of Chinese determined to empty the duty free shops of all their fags and face creams. Even worse, a familiar choice of eateries was available arrival-side, including a Subway and Burger King, but after taking the perfectly sensible route of getting through security before eating, we were met only with something called ‘Big Burger’ and a self-proclaimed ‘authentic’ New York deli. WHY DO AIRPORTS DO THIS?

Anyway, we’re now in Hong Kong, which is nice. More to follow.