Where we concoct the Pineapple Waterhole
Hotels with geysers and beach front cocktails under pink neon light
This is a travel journal of our adventures in South East Asia. Trust a bunch of Newfoundlanders to find trouble no matter where they go! You can read the entries as we climb Mt. Kinabalu and explore some parts of Thailand. A month after we left, this entire region was devastated by the Indian Ocean Tsunami of 2004. We were very lucky to have witnessed life and adventure before that and our hearts go out to everyone in this journal who might have been affected. A gallery of photos from this trip is available on my photos site.
Previous: Pirates and eventual taxis in Bangkok
9am November 28, 2004 Karon Guest House, Karon Beach Phuket
The mere fact that I am making this entry should indicate that we did not, in fact, end up sleeping on a Phuket street corner after our much-delayed flight. When the plane touched down and Keli found us, we immediately negotiated a room at the cheapest guesthouse in the book at the tourist counter at Phuket airport. We also arranged for a van to take us to Karon Guest House (near Kata Noi Beach, which my Labradorian friend Eddie Thomas had recommended).
It was only after we got in the van and drove off that the ATS (Asian Taxi Syndrome) reared its ugly head again.
"Me take you to great hotel!"
"No, we have a hotel, thank you."
"500 Baht per room."
"No, we have a hotel. Take us there."
"Very good rooms..."
"We’ve already paid for the rooms. We have a booking!"
"Very close to the beach."
"Take us to Karon Guest House, or we get out!" (a very frustrated Keli)
"Oh... you already paid and booked...."
The drive through Phuket (Karon is on the southern tip) was unspectacular and long. Chris, Mike, and I broke out into the Delay-O Song, putting me in tears from laughter. Based on what we could see, Phuket was so well-developed that we could easily have been somewhere in Canada.
We arrived at Karon Guest House, unloaded, and were taken to our rooms. Sometimes, I wonder if we’ve somehow become the playthings of some chaos god out there—when I try to flush the toilet in my and Chris’ room, no go.
I run downstairs, fetch the receptionist, and he fiddles around with the toilet bowl. Finally, water starts flowing. He gives me a sheepish look and says,
“No more rooms — all booked up — now good!”
bout five minutes later, I check again.
Our toilet is now flooded—water is pouring out of the tank.
I run downstairs, fetch the receptionist, and he fiddles around with the toilet bowl. The water stops flowing. He gives me a sheepish look and says,
“No more rooms — all booked up — now good!”
As George Bush said “There’s an old saying in Tennessee, I know it’s in Texas, probably in Tennessee, that says, fool me once, shame on... shame on you. Fool me, you can’t get fooled again.”
Sigh.
We look at the receptionist and say, "No, wait—try it before you go." He waits and flushes—no go! So, he fiddles around some more, then opens the tank.
Suddenly, a two-metre geyser erupts from the toilet.
“Wait, I come give you two new rooms with AC.”
So, maybe some taxi karma is working for us here. We now have two much nicer rooms. Chris and I even have a refrigerator. Shame we can’t find a plug outlet in the room.
All settled, we go to have supper and a few cocktails. As we walk down the street in Karon, Thai girls call out for us to enter garishly lit nightclubs (mostly glowing in pink neon). Sex tourism in Phuket is alive and well.
We try cocktails at supper and are bitterly disappointed, though the glasses with breasts make for interesting dinnertime amusements. Oh, and Thai wine sucks. Don’t even bother. Really.
Andrew actually wants to make sure we’re on an island and near a beach. Apparently, our skepticism has grown to a new level. Walking down the street, we pass the Gun Club, Key Club, and Jun Club—I wonder if, somewhere here, there is a MUN Club.
Yes, the beach is there. Nice to see rolling waves again.
The five Newfoundlanders/islanders sit, fascinated by the waves, for a good half hour. Lightning flashes on the horizon.
To finish the night, we go to a small club—Magic Inn or something—sit on the sidewalk, sing bad ’80s music, and have cocktails.
I show the bartender how to make an Orange Oasis (minus the orange and the oasis).
At 2 a.m., we head to bed.
Pineapple Waterhole (aka Orange Oasis in Phuket)
1 shot gin
1 shot cherry brandy
1/2 glass pineapple juice
1/2 glass Sprite
Shaken with ice