An Unplanned Day on Phuket

In a big city, a blank page in one’s diary is often a sign of boredom. On Phuket, it’s something to look forward to. Spending an unplanned day with its agenda set only by spontaneity is one of the most wonderful experiences the island has to offer.
Instead of breakfast in bed or a book in front of the fireplace, which may be the best options in other places, on Phuket you look at the beautiful blue sky and let your inner self steer you for the rest of the day.

For me, breakfast today at the Albatross Café in Laguna Phuket’s Canal Village, provides a great start. I am delighted to be greeted by the owner, Robert de Graaf, still humming some lambada tune from his Brazilian days. The aroma of his freshly brewed decaffeinated coffee and the sweet sawasdees of his staff help to steer me in the right direction.

After a moment’s hesitation at the traffic lights at Cherng Talay, I unconsciously turn left. I could have turned right and gone to Karon to have a few games of backgammon with Jan Akerlind, owner of the Nobel Restaurant, who once managed the famed restaurant of the same name in Stockholm’s City Hall. Jan is a gracious loser, and it’s always a pleasure to accept a Pernod from him as a compliment for winning.

But today my body has quietly made the decision in favour of an herbal sauna. So I drive down Srisoonthorn Road and then automatically turn left into Layan Road, driving five kilometres through some of the most beautiful countryside on the island.
I am most happy to find the entire Ruktae-Ngam family, owners of the Layan Beach Resort and Spa Village, on the premises. After greetings and a brief chat with the head of the family, Khun Norahaj, I’m graciously escorted to the spa by his lovely daughter, Panjama. She leaves me there for the next two hours to have a great herbal treatment and traditional Thai massage in the serene atmosphere of an open-air pavilion on Layan Beach.

Duly refreshed, I take Khun Norahaj up on his offer to show me the land on the hill behind the resort where he plans to develop private homes. The panoramic view of Bang Tao Bay from the spot where we stand makes it easy to understand why Norahaj clung to his dream for 30 years before he was in position to open a resort here.

I recall the last time I had hired a longtail boat from Khun Bao at Sumalee’s Minimart on Bang Tao Beach, and watched with awe the bay stretching eight kilometres from the Amanpuri resort to Layan Beach. But then a deeper feeling of déjà vu takes hold of me – a feeling that I had been part of this paradise in some distant time past. It remains with me as I drive back on Layan Road and stop at the Baansoun Restaurant to settle more mundane matters of the stomach.

Both Khun Sujintana and her husband Songsak Veawsanga are at the restaurant which, together with its vegetable gardens and fishponds, occupies a large part of the 119-rai estate. The whole area was once a rubber plantation owned by Sujintana’s father, who is now 96 years old and lives in Ban Don Village, two kilometres away.
She recommends fried sweet and sour pla kra pong, kept alive in the seawater pond. I also order stir-fried vegetables freshly picked in the garden, from where the smell of sweet basil and lemon grass wafts towards us. We chat over lunch and Sujintana, a teacher at Muang Thalang School earning a modest salary, talks about the latest offer she has received for a mere 40 rai of land – 240 million baht. “I am poor but my land is rich!” She smiles.

As I drive away, I can’t help wondering whether her grandfather, who came from China to find work here, could have ever imagined that his only grandchild would one day inherit land worth over 700 million baht. I always brood about such things after a heavy lunch.

I come back home and scan through the usual dismal news in the papers. Happily, however, I have made some money on the appreciating euro. Later in the afternoon, I join a friend at the driving range of the Banyan Tree Golf Club. Tim, the pro, is looking bulkier than ever, but, as always, is most willing to help you with your hook.
“I’m having some problem with my pitching,” I tell Tim.

“You’re lucky if that is the only problem you’re having.” He laughs as the ground shakes under his feet.

After a shower, I drop by Jungle Joe’s for a drink, but mostly to feast on the best peanuts in town, freshly fried in coconut oil by Joe’s wife Pensri. As expected, I run into a couple of friends and we end up at the Lotus on Bang Tao Beach for dinner.
Tim (“don’t call me Tom”), a student at the vocational college during the day and a waitress in the evenings, knows our favourites by heart. “Chicken in pandanus leaf, prawns with ginger and pepper, fried rice in pineapple!” She beams as she tangoes to the kitchen to place the order, returning shortly thereafter with our drinks.

The sound of the waves as they caress the shore, the great food, and the gentle effect of the vodka all combine to create a wonderful feeling of well-being. We express our satisfaction to Khun Joop, the proprietor’s son, who studies business administration at the Phuket Institute and helps with the restaurant in his spare time.

As the others leave, I decide to walk along the beach as far as the Dusit Laguna. I hear the two Filipinas singing at the Horizon Bar. I consider the idea of going in and having just one drink. The night is still young, I tell myself. But you are not that young anymore, a voice inside me replies. Of course I treat the voice with the disdain it deserves, and, with firm and steady step, make my advance towards the bar.

“I’m going to have just one nightcap and then go home,” I say to the barman, K. Chanwut. He smiles as if he had heard that before. “Just because you won the national barman championship at the young age of 25 doesn’t mean you can persuade me to have another drink,” I mumble.

Two drinks later, I say goodbye to the grinning barman and walk away from the place waving mabuhay to the beautiful girls who are singing “The Beat Goes On” in a mellow tone matching my own mood. That makes me think of my philosopher friend, Peter Tkac, who has led an incredibly varied life – being the duty officer the night the Tet Offensive during the Viet Nam war days started, working with Club Med in many countries, and being held up at gunpoint in Puerto Rico. I once asked him how one sums up a life like his. “You don’t,” he said. “It’s not over yet. The beat goes on. The journey continues.”

As I walk home under 1,000 stars I feel the journey is not bad at all, as long as it consists of an unplanned day in Phuket every now and then.