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By Sam Wilkinson

I'm so sorry that this is only my first letter home after three months on Phuket. Things aren't quite the same here as up in Udon Thani and, to tell you the truth, I'm rushed off my feet with Uncle Jirisak's tour business. How's the family? Is little Phet walking yet?

Phuket's an insane mix of farangs and Thais, but the funny thing is that down here I'm treated like a foreigner too, and the locals even make fun of my accent! It's all rather unsettling to feel like a stranger in my own country, yet I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels this way. The other tour guide lads tell me it doesn't bother them. But I've noticed that they stick close together and only eat in places where the cook is from the north, too.

The farangs that come here on holiday are good people, but are sometimes quite difficult to understand. Their culture is a mystery to me. The other day, a lady from Frankfurt or one of those French towns asked me why I smiled at her when I explained the tour itinerary. I honestly didn't know what to say. "Just don't do it again," she snarled at me as she got back onto the bus. When I asked Uncle Jirisak about it, he smiled and said that farangs take their fun seriously. What on earth did he mean by that?

Last week, one of the tour-group minivans broke down right by a group of spirit houses. Well, without the air-conditioning, everyone piled out into the shade of a rubber tree plantation to cool off. After 10 minutes, a woman dressed in what looked like her underwear came to complain about the passing cars honking their horns at her. I explained that they weren't beeping at her, they were saying hello to the spirits of the deceased in the little houses by the side of the road. She told me that I should be a comedian, not a tour guide, then stalked off down an alley of rubber trees, shouting that she was "off to explore the jungle for a while". In her underwear, Father.

I really do try to understand, but sometimes I get so confused. I know you taught me that it's rude to generalize about people, but I've noticed such a difference in farangs, depending on where they come from. People from Australia are so kind. Americans are also kind, but are terribly loud and scare off the animals when we're trekking. Japanese travel in large groups and buy silly hats and photos of themselves stuck to plastic plates. British people like to drink beer. French people won't speak any English and so we have to get a university student to translate into French, though even then they say they can't understand. Germans speak good English, but complain a lot. And finally, there are the Italians: they're generous and fun-loving and they love to boast that they have the most beautiful language in the world. Father, if they do, then why do they wave their hands around so much when they talk?

My next-door neighbour in the guesthouse is from New Zealand. He's been here for over a year now, and his name's Tommy. He drinks a lot of beer. He says he was born thirsty. I met him in the hallway yesterday and he told me, "Somrak, when I first came down here I spent 85 percent of my money in the first year on fast women and beer. The other 15 percent I just wasted." Then he threw his head back and roared with laughter. I laughed too, but I couldn't tell you why.

I talk to a lot of girls from up North who work here. They all want to meet a rich farang, then go to his country and live in his big house to be his wife. One of the girls is especially beautiful. Her name is Bi and she works at the Beach Club. She likes me because she says I look like her little brother, even though I'm six months older than her. I took her out to eat somtam last week and asked her if she would prefer a Swedish man or an Italian as her husband.

"What's the difference?" She shrugged. "They all look the same, don't they?"

Bi tells me she pays a lady on Soi Sansabai to write to all the men she's met, and that they sometimes send her money with which she buys clothes and cigarettes. I think that she is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen, but, Father, I could never kiss her. What would mother say to me kissing a girl who smokes cigarettes?

Another thing I've noticed about farangs is that they seem to move at a different speed than Thai people. They're always in a hurry, and how can you enjoy life if you're in a hurry? Then the strangest thing is that, as soon as they get behind a steering wheel, they drive as slow as Aunt Tatti in her old Datsun.

You won't believe this but farangs eat so much man farang. Is this why they're called farangs - because they eat so many potatoes? I remember eating man farang at the rocket festival when I was twelve. It tasted like yam without the sweetness. Tommy says he likes Thai food, but he's never even tried deep-fried locusts or pork fat salad. He's very kind. He took me out the other night for some farang food, and we went to a restaurant where the tables and chairs were bolted to the floor and the air-conditioning was as cold as a fridge. You had to order from grumpy uniformed people behind a cash register where you had to pay up before you even had a mouthful to eat.

We ate a few pieces of deep-fried chicken and chopped-up fried man farang, and it cost 150 baht! I didn't say anything for fear of offending Tommy, and saved the ketchup for next time I had a pizza. When we were finished I was still hungry. Tommy went off to drink with his friends so, on the way home, I bought some more chicken and sticky rice from a street vendor. This time it came to 25 baht! Phuket is so expensive.

All the same, you could say that I'm learning a lot from this experience. There are so many people and countries in this world that we're all bound to be a little different. But some things are plain shocking. Did you know that farangs actually take their clothes off at the beach and lie in the sun for hours? Did you know that they put forks in their mouths when they eat? One farang told me that his country used to have a woman prime minister. I'm still not sure if he was joking or not. Another gentleman told me that the farang way of relaxing was "to put their feet up". I can't imagine anything ruder than a room full of people all putting their feet up in the air. What good does that do?

Still, it could be worse. Phuket's a beautiful province and I couldn't imagine a better place to be surrounded by such a rich mixture of people. They tell me that Phuket has had a reputation throughout history for being a melting pot of foreigners and traders. Some things, like Grandfather used to say, never change.

Please kiss all the children for me. Give my love to Aunt Tatti. I'm ashamed to say that my skin has gone darker from the sun, but Uncle Jirisak says the colour will fade after a while and that I shouldn't worry.

Your Loving Son

Somrak

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