- SEARCH OUR SITE -  ABOUT US - ADVERTISING - SUBSCRIPTION  - CONTACT US - BUSINESS INDEX - PHOTO LIBRARY  - OTHER MAGAZINES -

 

LATEST ISSUE OF OUR PRINTED MAGAZINE

ARCHIVES:

By Mark Lindsay

An English teacher reviews a largely idyllic year on Thailand’s leading sea side resort island.

Walking into a picture postcard” is how many people describe their first months on the balmy shores of Phuket. This, Thailand’s largest holiday island, is the size of Singapore. For travellers fleeing grey Western winters, abrupt immersion into this southern Thai getaway can incite a riot of senses dulled by sad months of listless daylight. Even normal objects take on a surreal appeal, as they are brightened to saturation point by the intense sunlight. Combine this rose-tinted perspective with tropical vistas and the result is mind-numbing. Deep blue skies, millpond-flat azure seas, succulent emerald shades of jungle flora and smiling locals all collaborate with the climate to make each December day on Phuket an event to be treasured.

Any youthful adventurer arriving in October would commend the choice of Phuket as a great place to hang out for a year. With pink skin a-glowin’ from careful hours of oil-soaked tanning, new arrivals revel in blazing-red sunsets that proceed from there to languid hours perched on verandas chatting with friends over Mekong and soda, the nightly chorus of cicadas a deafening but essential backdrop. Paradise found.

What does a full year in Phuket have in store? From November to February rain only intermittently leaves all of nature singing with moisture, as steam rises from tarmac roads. Between sprinklings, the sun smiles benignly from six o’clock in the morning till it drops into the ocean at seven in the evening.

Yet things do change. Thailand has as many as three seasons: hot, wet and cold. In the northeastern area of the Isaan, September to November is the time for the only viable harvest of the year. Phuket’s hoards of masseuses, restaurant waitresses, and other seasonal workers, who smooth and oil the path of white-skinned tourists in December, have normally just come from their annual hometown harvest, an essential bonding experience for this latter-day nomadic group of Thais. Ask any waitress or server, and you’ll be surprised how many are from those distant provinces, not so far from Cambodia and Laos.

The more fortunate and properous Phuket proffers several crops per annum, born of a warmer year-round climate, fertile soil and a plentiful supply of fresh water. To cap it all, the Andaman Sea coast is fringed with reefs supporting a cornucopia of fish, not least of which are the prized Phuket lobsters that sell at a juicy premium in the island’s signature seafood restaurants. Unsurprisingly, true Phuketians – who make up only 220,000 souls on an island of over 2,000,000 people – are far less inclined to wander off, unlike their Isaan cousins. Instead, multiple generations coexist on family plots of land that are not only productive but have also experienced a rapid rise in freehold value. In fact, after Bangkok, Phuket is the richest province in the country.

The month of October is recruitment time for Westerners. Those with teaching jobs should prepare themselves for confusion, should they prepare an English lesson addressing times of the year. At first, students may be fascinated by the concept of Europe’s four seasons and whistle at the minus sign you place against winter temperatures. Then you ask: “How many seasons are there in Phuket?”

“Two!”

“What are their names?”

“The hot season and the wet season.”

“When do they start and finish?”

Silence. Everyone starts to make contra- dictory statements. Sure, April and May are hot. “Too hot,” some say, white smiles bright against the sun-darkened Phuketian skin. So does it rain the rest of the time?

Unlike the north of Thailand, Phuket is too near the equator to get cold, and it’s in the path of two Asian monsoons: the northeasterly and the southwesterly. Yet these monsoons are fickle, notoriously unpredictable. What this means is that on Phuket, as well as along the rest of the southwest coast, the really mean weather can arrive almost anytime from June through to December. During one of these episodes, torrential rain can be interspersed with sad grey skies reminiscent of England. Still, the days are leavened by generous helpings of sunshine. Life becomes a bit like being in choppy seas on a sports yacht – one minute you’re happily enjoying blue skies and then, suddenly, great lumps of water soak you to the skin. Distant clouds become a storm before you can stop your bike and don a raincoat.

Phuket’s success as a traveldesti- nation has depended, to some extent, on the way its weather runs out of synch with that of the West. In times past, the pro- vincial wealth arose from tin mining and rubber. Now mining is tending to become banished to museum exhibits and aging rubber tree plantations may one day only be harvested by landless squatters, laboriously gathering bath-mat like slabs worth less than a dollar apiece. In today’s world of mass-consumer holidays, good weather is the latest natural asset to be tapped. Lucre sapped from the browning crowds is the new cash crop.

November begins with the island’s tourist opening ceremony and a carnival in Patong. On its heels comes the national Loy Krathong festival. At night, beaches are packed with rows of Thais wading silently into the sea to wai and set afloat candlelit krathong rafts, believed, along with paper hot-air balloons, to float away the personal troubles of the previous year.

In December the high season swings begins to swing full tilt, and the best place in the world just goes on getting better. The sun is forgiving, the seas inviting and crystal clear. Phuket hits high gear as the Phuket Laguna’s triathlon brings super-athletes from around the world to swim, run, mountain bike and strut about the island, which now brims with visitors, the beautiful people mingled with package holiday-goers. Even more, Phuket becomes an international melting pot. Then the real jet-setters arrive. The King’s Cup Regatta draws some of the toniest people in Asia. From about 30 November to 7 December, beaches slope to calm seas adorned with vessels that wouldn’t be out of place at Monaco. Parties abound along the whole tourist coast. From Nai Harn to Kata to Karon and Patong, nightspots throb with good-time boogey-down late night revels. The King’s Cup intoxication may die down in mid-month but others rack it up, all heading for the big-time celebrations of Christmas and New Year.

Local expats often joke that Thais have more public holidays than anybody else on the planet, and from January through February this seems to be true. Among the occasions for fun is Chinese New Year, falling sometime between late January and mid-February, depending on the date of the full moon. This holiday has airlines and buses from Bangkok booked solid for a week. Some roads become semi-fluid parking lots as the island pays host to one of the most prosperous ethnic groups in Asia. At this time of year, especially in old Phuket Town, get some earplugs for the firecrackers, be careful not to kick over the tables of food outside local shops, and watch out for the burning bins of spirit money.

An equally important February event, especially for the fairer sex, is Valentine’s Day, an occasion adopted with relish from the West. In a land where emotions are revered, this occasion is serious business. Be forewarned: do not forget to pamper your Thai partner. And just for great fun, there’s the Phang Nga Bay Regatta which begins in Krabi and ends on Phuket, allowing the boats to play island tag.

March and April brings a new meaning to the word “hot”. Temperatures rise to 40 degrees centigrade, and humidity soars off the scale. You can forget about sunbathing, and midday is only good for sleeping. Soon you understand why the locals get up at six o’clock and never go to the beach before four in the afternoon. Not only is riding motorcycles without a crash helmet illegal, it invites sunstroke. New islanders who earlier scoffed at air-conditioning may now be having second thoughts, perhaps lingering in shopping malls till their heads clear.

With the heat, tempers can become frayed, rice fields become brown and crisp, banana trees sag fruitless, and deciduous woods yellow and thin. The island as a whole, however, especially the surviving areas of rain forest, remains green. In March, tanker trucks can be seen cruising the newest housing developments as wells run dry, and by April things may seem unbearable. Songkran, however, lies just around the corner. This favourite Thai holiday, the traditional New Year, runs from 13-15 April.

Originally, this occasion involved the ritual pouring of water over the hands of revered relatives, usually by the younger generation. Somehow the modern version of this holiday has become a pandemonium of water-throwing. Pickup trucks loaded with barrels of water stalk the streets to drench anyone within reach. Every street-side house has a running hose and water pistols ready to soak hapless passers-by. Patong’s Soi Bangla becomes one big happy wet T-shirt show, while Rat-u-tit and Beach Road host parties that block the streets with live music, open-air discos and all. Be in no hurry to get anywhere, leave your watch at home and wear your skimpiest clothes.

The month of May lies on the cusp of the two main seasons, as small business men moan about how short “the season” was this year. Favourite swimming and snorkelling venues become angry and hostile as beaches are moved about by heavy surf that sweeps everything before it. By June, even the strongest swimmers should check the beach flags before venturing out – green means it’s safe; red means stay on shore.

Throughout these wet months, there are plenty of holidays and events to enliven the way to the next high season – Asanha Puja Day, the Buddhist Rains Retreat and the Queen’s Birthday to name but a few. And the most famous of them the Vegetarian Festival of Phuket and Trang takes you back to the month of October.

Stories vary on the origins of this local affair, but it’s said to be a Chinese import bought over by tin miners. From October, spectacular street processions include much-touted displays of self-mutilation and nighttime fire-walking. The faithful, dressed all in white, spend two weeks eating only vegetarian food and emerge from Chinese temples in a trance. They claim they feel no pain, and bleed surprisingly little as huge spikes and other unlikely objects are thrust through their cheeks. Spiked ball-and-chains are swung on naked backs and axe blades banged on foreheads. Fruit and flowers are strewn around devotees and feature in the many floats and decorations. Teams of youths from different districts race at a jog through the streets of Phuket Town carrying heavy shrines on their shoulders, each team jostling to be the first to receive blessings from the ceremonial firecrackers set off by businesses seeking good fortune for the year ahead. With the riot of sights and sounds, the clashing symbols and ceremonial drums, the smells of gunpowder, attendees are transported back to a mythical world out of time.

For many young English teachers, the vegetarian festival marks their departure. The low pay and four months of wet weather takes its toll. Some vow to stay until Christmas, others grimace at the thought of the crowds and look towards Japan to replenish barren bank accounts. Still others simply resign and return to northern climes. Without fail, however, the newcomers arrive, wide-eyed and smiling at thoughts of days on the beach, parties with friends and the year ahead.