An American in Asia: His Quest for Cosmic Truth (or at least a Decent Espresso)

 

Reggae on the Hill
and Jet Skis Kill

A friend from the European continent came to visit last week and I took on the role of chauffeur and tour guide for a few days. It was a lot of driving, since Phuket is a big island, but it was a pleasure really. His visit was precipitated by the fact that he fell in love with a Thai boarder at his house, so he was here to absorb a bit of her culture and gain a deeper understanding of her personality.

As happens so often in my life, I took on the role of catalyst. I always seem to be facilitating changes in the lives of my friends which, from my perspective, can be a good thing and a bad thing. Once the changes are in place, my friends tend to drop out of contact, either satisfied with their new selves or possibly blaming me if things go pear-shaped. In any case, I do enjoy being around folks who are surfing the curling waves of some radical change, as their minds are alive with probing questions and radical pronouncements. Fun fun fun.

One afternoon I took my pal and his girl to my favourite lunch spot, a grass and bamboo hut stapled onto a hillside above Kata Noi Beach. The builders had used the trees growing up from below the place as supporting pillars, with the result that the whole restaurant tends to wave precariously in the breeze. The music and decor is all Jamaican Reggae and the waiters sport dreadlocks and t-shirts proclaiming their love and admiration for Bob Marley, Peter Tosh, His Majesty Emperor Haile Selassie and the smoke of burning cannabis. A sweet bunch of guys who are always polite and smiling.

The food itself is excellent. It comes hot from a rustic country kitchen that is not much more than a couple of burners hooked to a tank of gas under a corrugated tin roof. Despite its humble origins, the food is superior to any Thai cuisine I've been served at five-star hotels (and I've had a lot), with the additional benefit of not being toned down for the bland palates of Western tourists.

Along with a big glass of any kind of juice I could want - watermelon, coconut, lime, mango, papaya, banana - I'm in culinary heaven for under three US bucks. Man, just writing about it gets me going. I guess I'll be heading back there later today.

The icing on the icing is the restaurant's locale. Teetering high on the verdant jungle hillside, it stares out over the Andaman Sea into a distant blankness. Somewhere out there is the Indian subcontinent but it is almost easier to believe that, where the sky touches the ocean in a fuzzy white haze, in the words of the cartographers of yore, "Here lie monsters".

I drove up with my friend and his girl and parked on the edge of the road as near to the cliff as I dared. The truck was still well onto half the lane but, in Thailand, questionable parking practices are de rigueur.

My pal had a bit of trouble finding food that would not strip the lining from his stomach, since he had had a problem with his gut from eating poisonous mushrooms a few years back. Ginger chicken filled the bill though, and he happily tucked in while I enjoyed a mango smoothie and a plate of chicken with dried curry and coconut sauce, no additional peppers necessary.

As we admired the view, he looked down on Kata Noi Beach at the small streaks of white feathering around just beyond the surf. "How much does it cost to rent a jet ski?" he asked.

I told him it would be around US$30 for as many minutes. After converting that to 17 Pounds Sterling, he decided he wanted to give it a go. Down we went to the beach and I played in the waves while he and his girl raced around the bay.

I could easily understand the attraction of rocketting around the warm Andaman waters for a visitor from a country where hypothermia is an issue. So, I refrained from commenting on the jet ski situation in Phuket. Sorry, man, I didn't want to rain on your parade.

Regular as clockwork, tourists and Thais alike are clobbered by jet ski operators as they swim and play in the waves around Phuket. The list of incidents is long, so I'll give it it's own webpage. Just the week before, a Thai hotel worker was killed by a European tourist who smacked into him while he was spearfishing with a snorkel and mask at Kamala Beach. The European hopped back on his craft after the accident and raced off, leaving the country soon after. The Thai operators of these infernal machines do just as much damage though much of it goes unreported, due to the power of the local mafia. They race around like madmen through waves crowded with swimmers, trying to attract the attention of potential customers with outrageous stunts.

The governor has vowed on several occasions that jet ski licenses will no longer be issued. Since the current licenses will be valid for no more than five years, we are supposed to be free of the evil machines by 2011. However, the governor's vows seem to change depending on who he is talking to and his sincerity might be called into question given that he has agreed to host the 2006 World Jet Ski Championship competition at Patong Beach.

The most worrying thing about all this is the underlying fact that tourists are often in much more danger than they know when visiting Thailand. Many tourists come from lands where governments regulate any activity that might remotely be considered dangerous and where people win million-dollar lawsuits over the lack of warning labels on a cup of hot coffee. So they automatically assume that, if they're allowed to do something, it must therefore be safe.

Nothing could be farther from the truth in Thailand. If you're allowed to do something here, it is merely because one or more Thais will make money if you do it. Rent a motorbike without a license? Sure! Never ridden one before? No problem! Helmet messes up your hair? Don't wear it! Incidentally, the cops will fine you for driving without a license or helmet, but you can pay your way out of that and it doesn't cut into the bike owner's profits.

A frightened elephant can whip a tourist off his back and stomp him into the ground and they sometimes do, but no one will tell that to a tourist with a fistful of cash. On a daily basis I see tourists dangling in the sky from kites or riding inflatable pontoons dragged around by motorboats, strapping on scuba tanks and submerging in the currents on their first dive, piling on to overloaded ferries and pushing babies in strollers down the middle of busy lanes.

I get the unfortunate opportunity to witness the deadly results of this blind trust in authority on an almost weekly basis, as there are more than 1,000 road accidents every month, overwhelmingly involving motorbikes. It's lucky that I harbour a fairly dark sense of humour and I think lemmings are funny.

In the end, my friend survived his vacation. Despite renting both a jet ski and a motorbike, he was responsible and careful in his vehicular adventures and enjoyed his stay in Phuket. In fact, he loved the unregulated freedom.

Perhaps for many, a trip to Thailand is like when a lazy babysitter takes over for strict parents. It's all fun and games until someone loses and eye. Any responsible travel agent should urge their customers to watch their own ass because, in Thailand, no one else will.