We arrived at Phuket International Airport on Friday morning after an early morning flight. Our first order of business at the airport was getting new SIM cards for our phones. We weren’t certain that we’d need them, but it feels a little reassuring to be connected to the wider world when we are in a new place, especially when English is not the dominant language. Our phones had data plans for Malaysia and Indonesia so we didn’t do it then, but we also bought new SIM cards and data plans in Melbourne.
We needed a cab to our hotel and we quickly realized that this is a haggling kind of economy when we hesitated with a cab driver and he immediately offered to take us to our hotel for 500 baht, instead of the 800 baht, which is what several posters had advertised. After being in Singapore for so long, we had forgotten it’s acceptable in many places to mutually agree upon a price after some back and forth. Johan was better at this than I was, as we learned later in the weekend at the night market in Phuket Town.
We checked into the hotel, ate breakfast, went for a quick swim, and then took the hotel shuttle to the nearby Nai Yang village at 1:30 that afternoon. I was expecting more of a village when the hotel associate said that there were two daily shuttles there. Since they bothered with shuttles, I had assumed that there was a big draw to go there. The village consisted of some other smaller hotels and resorts, a few rooms for rent on the beach, about 5 stalls selling local wares, a few restaurants, a few Thai massage places, and a large (40 ft x 40 ft), open-air shelter with a sign that read Big Shop Massage. There were at least 18 massage tables set up under the hut with about 6 – 7 women on standby for massage customers. We walked along the beach, ate a leisurely lunch, and looked around at the various stalls. We had seen the entire village by 3:30 and the shuttle wasn’t coming back until 4:30. (We were told we could walk along the beach to get back to the hotel, but it had to be during low tide, which it wasn’t at the time.) After our second walk through the convenience store, the rest of my crew had settled into a table outside to wait for the shuttle. I took one look at them and knew that sitting there for nearly an hour, waiting for the shuttle was not an option. The looks on my kids faces told me that we would all annoy each other in no time.
“Let’s all go get a massage,” I said to Johan.
“Are you serious?” he looked at me incredulously.
“Do you really want to just sit here and wait for the shuttle? I don’t. We are going to drive each other crazy.”
It was settled. We walked over to the large hut and asked about massages. We all decided on a back and shoulders massage. The regular 40 minute massage was 300 baht, but we settled on four 30 massages for 250 baht. The girls were walking toward their tables with a stunned look on each of their faces, like they didn’t really understand what was going on. While Johan and I get massages back home, they’ve never experienced it before. I just told them to roll with it.
Since we opted for the back and shoulders massage, I was (naively) expecting for there to be massage chairs, where you sit with your face in the cradle and lean into a seat that you kind of straddle – like at the mall massage places in the States. Nope. We had to lie face-down on tables without the face cradles, turning our heads in one direction. The women walked us over and set us up at four adjacent massage tables and said to me, “Take off, take off,” while pulling on their own shirts. When I finally understood that they wanted *me* to take of my shirt, I declined, saying, “No. It’s OK. I’ll just keep it on. I don’t have on a bathing suit.” They persisted, “No, no. Take off, take off. It’s OK. Take off, take off.” So I did and quickly lay down prone on my table. They told my girls to do the same, but the girls gave me looks that told me that they were drawing the line on this cockamamie idea that their mom cooked up in the spur of the moment. They were OK with family massage time, but they were not disrobing in public, in the open air, next to a beach where there were actual people walking by and figuring out the extent of this village. I made it clear to the massage ladies that they were keeping their shirts on and that they should proceed anyway. The massage ladies finally relented, shrugged at each other and went to work. I was next to Lulu and when my massage lady unclipped my bra before she started, Lulu’s eye just about bugged out of her head. “It’s all good, Lu,” I said. The look on her face said she couldn’t believe that her mom was basically naked on a beach. She can be a bit dramatic.
The 30 minutes massages were perfect. They weren’t the most therapeutic massages I’ve ever had; they didn’t really work out all my kinks and knots. But, they kept the kids quiet – stunned really – and contained, and from nagging us about buying them stuff. To Lulu’s relief, my massage lady re-clasped my bra before I sat up and I deftly put my shirt back on. The girls said they liked their massages, too. Johan asked the women if they were there everyday, which they took to mean that he wanted to come back the next day. “Yes. Here everyday. See you tomorrow! Open at nine am.”
Partly because we felt like we had already committed to it and partly because we wanted to anyway, we did go back the next day for more massages. Of course, the ladies recognized us and welcomed us back. To save my children from further mortification, I opted for the face, head and neck massage, which did not require me to undress and I lay supine on the table. The kids got the same massage as the previous day because they had already set their boundaries. On Saturday, we walked back to the hotel from the village because it was low tide and we had exhausted all the re-sightseeing again in less than the three hour window for the shuttle return. We realized that walking back along the beach took about as long as the shuttle, which had to take inland roads only to return to the beach.
On Saturday, we took a 40-minute cab ride to Phuket Town for the weekend night market. Johan practiced his negotiating skills to land an ocean bag, a water proof shoulder bag he had been eyeing for future camping trips. The girls each got a watch for 100 baht, and I’m hoping that they last more than a week. I looked around at Thai-inspired clothes, but Asian women have much different body types than I do. An ‘extra-large’ in Thailand is like a size 6 or something. There was nowhere to try anything on at the open-air market with hundreds of stalls. So I just looked and kept up my litany of ‘no’s’ for most of the times the girls asked about buying more stuff. Why wasn’t the watch enough???
I did happen upon a stall that was selling books, some of which were in English. Since I didn’t pack a leisure book, I decided to look. I found a David Sedaris hardcover, When You Are Engulfed in Flames. It still had it’s book jacket, with the extra lamination, like it had come from a library. The inside cover indicated that *had* come from Pelham Public Library in Pelham, New Hampshire. I bought it for 150 baht. How did a book from New Hampshire end up for sale at the night market in Phuket Town? We’ll never know. After a quick online search, I discovered that it had been checked out on May 1, 2017 and that is was overdue. I promised myself that I’ll send it back when we get back home.
On Sunday we went on an excursion to another part of Phuket Island. On the tour we booked through the hotel, we left from the Royal Phuket Marina on speed boat with about 30 other passengers. We visited smaller islands of Phi Phi Ley and Phi Phi Don, swam on a couple of beaches and went snorkeling. We saw some beautiful sights and swam in some lovely blue-green waters. We had lunch on one of the islands and browsed the local stalls there so we could spend the rest of our baht.
Phuket was our last hurrah before leaving Singapore. When we got back, it felt like were were returning home. We have another *real* last hurrah in Manila before we go back to our *real* home in Chicago. The girls are feeling sad about leaving and vocalize it a lot. I feel the same. I tell them to focus on being grateful for this experience, instead of focusing on being sad about it ending soon. I say it to them so I can hear myself say it, too.

















