Patong Gone Wrong

It comes time to say goodbye to Chiang Mai as we head to Phuket.
The flight is only a couple of hours so we're shocked when they serve us lunch; even more shocking: it's pretty tasty! A spicy prawn rice and some sort of condensed milk/fruit dessert.

At the airport, we walk outside to sort out transportation. There are minibuses for 120 baht so we buy a ticket and wait.. and wait... and wait some more. Finally a bus pulls up. We climb on, but still sit idling in the parking lot. It's apparent that we are not going anywhere until every spot on the bus is full. At least the AC is blasting and Arielle and I have both had the foresight to download some Netflix entertainment.
I'm blissfully lost in the antics of Will & Grace when we stop abruptly and are wrangled out of the cool haven of the bus and into a travel agency.
Once inside, we are asked about our plans for travel and activities. We lie that we've already booked everything and make our way back to the van. A couple people take the bait and we're forced to wait while they finalize the details on their overpriced day trips.

Eventually, the driver kicks us off on a seedy-looking strip with no hotel in sight. When we enquire where to go, he gestures in the direction of a long alley. We wander down the alley past massive resorts and I start to wonder. Finally, at the very end, nestled between two huge buildings we see the sign for Eden Bungalows. The hotel's restaurant is on the front of the property, but the grounds stretch far back from the street. It's stunningly beautiful; the grounds are lush with flowers in bloom. There's a nice pool and patio, I'm dying to take a dip but a sign says it's closed for maintenance.
Our bungalow is super cute, albeit insanely hot, first thing we do is turn on the air.

With zero plans except to relax and hit the beach we figure tonight is as good a night as any to get really drunk. We walk down the block to hit up any of the numerous 7-Elevens for beer, but when we get there we make a startling discovery. It's a Buddhist holiday, Vesak, and the sale of alcohol is not permitted by law. There are signs up everywhere and a lot of establishments have closed entirely. Now that I think about it, it seemed every group we passed in the restaurants were drinking pop...
An old dude comes in and sees the sign and flies into outrage.
"This is a tourist town, they can't do this!"
We shrug helplessly.
"I live here too, they should really warn people. I can't believe this."
All I can think is: If you live here shouldn't you have known?
The guy is irate. He yells at the young lady at the counter. I can't recall his exact words, but I catch the phrase: Fucking retarded.
Poor girl, it's obviously not her fault. Also, she's wearing a hijab and probably doesn't even recognize the holiday herself.

A decision is made to eat our feelings instead. We head down the main road while pushy men  pressure us into eating at their establishments. All the menus are indistinguishable and overpriced compared to what we've seen so far. Also, there seems to be a shocking amount of Italian food present. Eventually, we pick the cheapest place which ends up being the worst meal of the entire trip. The noodles are doughy, the beef is so tough I can barely chew it and the "veggies" are literally broccoli stem, not florets, just leftover stems and nothing else.

As we walk back along the beach, every couple feet someone steps in front of us with a command: Eat here, come here, have a massage here, come get a tattoo, get cornrows, buy this ugly bracelet, book a dumb tour.

Patong Beach is not our scene and we start to regret paying for three nights accommodation in advance. We return to our room overstimulated. But now, a new challenge: the air conditioning is not working. At all. The fan is blowing hot air around. The guy at the front desk comes to investigate and agrees something is wrong. He can move us to another room but it has one double bed rather than two singles. We don't care, in fact, we're elated. In the new room, the temperature difference is immediate even with the air running for only a couple minutes.

That night, I have anxiety dreams and wake up feeling sick and absolutely freezing. This new unit is doing too good of a job. I attempt to curl into a warm ball, but it's not use. I get up to adjust the temperature and then lie awake for hours, thoughts racing. When I drift off around 5 a.m. I wake up a couple hours later feeling like I've been hit by a truck. My eyelids are puffy and swollen. Arielle confesses she had an awful sleep as well and it makes me feel better... I guess misery really does love company.

Once we finally get ourselves together, we decide to walk further along Patong Beach to the more secluded Kalim Beach. We even find a good lunch place with lots of seafood options at a decent price (for the area, anyway). We read, frolic, swim, and keep an eye out for jellyfish. It's a little rocky but still good swimming and super peaceful. We get a lot of sun and decide to head back to the safety of the pool umbrellas, but first: beer.

By the time we reach 7-Eleven, it's just past two and they've stopped all sales of alcohol for the next three hours. We just can't catch a break! So we sit around the pool waiting until 5 finally rolls around and we can grab a couple big Changs. This may be the longest we've gone without drinking on the entire trip.
We decide to treat ourselves to something a little fancier for dinner so we go to Baan Rim right on the beach. And as a result we've dressed up to the nines. We walk through the bungalows out to the street and pass the huge group of salon workers, sitting outside and hoping for customers. They look us up and down and start cat calling us: "Oooh sexy ladies!"

At Baan Rim, I immediately feel way too poor to be there. Especially when they sit us at a table for six overlooking the ocean. We get deep fried prawns, chicken and mushrooms, and a pork and lychee curry (my personal favourite). The food prices are not bad considering it's a high end restaurant and compared to other places in the area.
On the way back we decide we'll stop by out bungalow and then check out the club district and get our dance on. But we're old ladies and we're full so as soon as we're back we flop onto our beds in our nice cool room and neither of us can be bothered getting back up.

In the morning we're up bright an early and grateful we didn't go out as today we have our Thai cooking class. Outside on the street the pavement still damp from torrential morning downpour.
A pickup truck with covered bench seats stops for us. We hop in the back and speed off down the road before stopping to pick up a group of Aussies. We drive for ages eventually arrive at a hotel with a treacherously long steep driveway and we all brace ourselves as we start up at a sharp angle.
We pick up another Aussie girl, the expression on her face reads: miserable.
Our driver finds a less intense spot to stop and tells us to get out as a minibus is coming to grab us. We all pile into the new vehicle and the driver starts rattling off hotel names and we respond to our designated locations. He says a name and no one responds. He says it again, louder. We all shake our heads. His expression reads: oh shit.
We drive all the way back to where Arielle and I came from and pick up another group. Finally we arrive at the market and meet our guide who explains different produce and gives us samples (did you know there are over 50 varieties of mango?!) She gives us ten minutes to explore on our own, so Arielle and I grab a couple more Thai iced teas, because we're obsessed.
The one girl who seemed unhappy tells our guide she needs to leave. She was in the hospital yesterday and now she's having heart palpitations and pain in her arm. She asks for a hospital recommendation. Suddenly, it makes a lot of sense why she seems so unhappy. The guide waits with her for a cab to arrive. I feel for her, travelling alone and being so sick.
The remaining group pile into the van and head further to the cooking school.

It's amazing, located on top a huge hill, the kitchen is all glass windows overlooking the lush mountains and surrounded by papaya and banana trees. First we learn to make coconut cream and coconut milk from pulp. Then we start our meal prep and then we cook! We fry up our curries, then our stir fries and then our appetizers.
Christine, our instructor, is clear and firm in her directions: "Water two times!" "Hand on handle, stir!" "Balance your wok!"
My dishes are simpler than everyone else's so I'm done first and experience the utter agony of sitting there staring at my food, trying to patiently wait.
Finally the time comes for us to feast. I finish one dish and save the others for dinner and tomorrow's lunch. I'm disappointed to see that many of my classmates barely touch their food and leave their leftovers.

On the way back I can feel my eyes getting heavy, I'm in a food-induced daze.
Back at the bungalows, they're cleaning our room so we sprawl out on the lounge chairs by the pool. I want to nap and I try really hard, but just can't get comfy enough to get that sweet REM sleep. I roll over on my tummy but there's a constant parade of flies having a dance party on the back of my legs. I grow frustrated and retreat into the room to nap.

I wake up just in time for sunset so we make haste to the beach. We stop to take photos of each other and a fellow westerner approaches us, beer in hand, and offers to take our photo. We happily agree. His name is Rob and he's from Colorado. We chat about snowboarding and our respective seasons and other typical travel small chat.

He's tells us he's going for food and invites us along. I abruptly tell him we have lots of leftovers to eat and we need to go eat them. Arielle laughs at me later for my ability to awkwardly misread every social interaction. We enjoy a quiet night in with leftovers, face masks, and manicures and prepare for the next day of travel.