Having recovered from the tsunami which ravaged Thailand's coast in 2004, it seems remarkable how Phuket has regained its life force as a heaving tourist utopia. After landing in an uncharacteristically barren Bangkok with the political turmoil in full swing, we were all too eager to catch our connecting flight.
Arriving at the barn-sized Phuket airport and catching a minibus for the hour-long journey to our resort, we wound down the windows to allow the sweet jungle scents to engulf us, relishing the reviving drizzle. The driver was casting us suspicious looks via his rear-view mirror - undoubtedly thinking that we were crazy. But when we explained that we were from Dubai, he responded in his delightful south east Asian accent: ‘OK! Oo-kay!'
Nestled in the secluded Nakalay Bay is the Thavorn Beach Village Resort and Spa, and our bungalow was right on the beach. You can opt for the more luxurious villas further up on the hill (equipped with cable cars to transport you to your room), but to us nothing could possibly beat stepping out of your door onto sea sand and walking but a few steps into opaque waters under a full moon.
As is typical of a twenty-something finding what she suspects to be a contender for ‘The Quan' (I'm hoping you've seen Jerry Maguire…) of tropical holidays, I spent the ensuing half an hour bouncing on my bed and screeching about five octaves higher than my usual mellow alto, sounding like a hysterical teenage cheerleader.
With sleep a thought of the past, we decided to brave what we presumed to be a mere stroll down the hill into Patong. What we envisaged to be a 2km stroll (our perspective warped by jetlag) turned out to be a 6km jungle walkathon, and by the time we reached town we were dripping. Diving into the Andaman Sea offered relief in the same way an icy glass of water does after a long drought.
Post-cold coconut juice and Thai green curry with prawns with Pad Thai (staples throughout the trip, save for one monstrous crayfish thermador), we sensibly decided to boycott the walk back and took one of the readily available red tuk-tuks, easily spotted by their eerily lit blue interiors as they buzzed around the streets like blue fire flies. The flapping rain cover did little to stop the pelting rain as we bumped along the meandering road, but we didn't mind.
Given the earlier adventure of our first day, we opted for the locally preferred mode of transportation and hired a scooter which, while having its fair share of hair-raising moments, provided access to a world of ungoverned and impulsive exploration. Snaking alongoff-the-map jungle roads through rural villages and getting caught in sporadic downpours offered an unfettered reminder of what it means to be alive. Tangled wet hair framing my face and rain slashing against my sunburnt arms, I embraced the opportunity to yell my lungs out without particular cause or inhibition, inducing a boundless, priceless sense of freedom.
Patong itself is tailored for the tourist, and it was not uncommon for the stall owners to approach us with an Aussie accent yelling, "G'day mate! Are you from Sydney?", but the minute they found out we were South Africans, they dropped the artificial accent.
Bartering has never been my forte, but it's something of an expected ritual in hagglers' etiquette. The store owners themselves admit that starting with the highest price is their standard tactic and you're left to fight fire with fire by whittling the price down, baht by baht, through relentless negotiation.
The standard-issue shelves upon shelves of Red Bull shirts, Thai fisherman pants and ‘genuine fake' surfer brand board shorts are to the point of overwhelming. A walk through the markets in the evenings saw us stopping intermittently for a freshly made, hot pancake straight off a mobile vendor's pan - an avalanche of banana, coconut and chocolate sauce gushing down our chins mingling with sea salt, sweat and sugar.
A visit to Patong is incomplete without a visit to the iconic Bangla Road, often referred to as ‘Little Bangkok'. Cavorting (there really is no other verb to describe my movements in my characteristic holiday spirit) down the bustling street, the nightlife is as chaotic as one might expect from the small-scale version of the famed Khaosan Road in the capital. Leave your prudishness at the barricade.
There's an obvious motive as to why every street corner is jam-packed with tour operators plying leaflet upon leaflet of island-hopping excursion adverts (again, with fake Aussie accents). I prefer to avoid packaged tourism yet I cannot deny that the island-hopping trip we took proved to be an indisputable highlight.
Whether you're keeping it local in an old wooden long-tail boat, paddling in a kayak or racing along in a speedboat loaded with fruit to explore Phi Phi, Krabi and James Bond Island (in Phang Nga Bay), you will be enthralled by the feeling of being teleported somewhere towards the second star to the right and straight on till morning.
The islands made famous by Roger Moore's displays of bravado on the silver screen in The Man with the Golden Gun and Leonardo Di Caprio's sedate moments swimming among plankton luminosity in The Beach, were immortalised by Hollywood for good reason. The ocean, as crystalline as your typical postcard depiction, with foliage-capped rock faces plunging into cobalt waters, are reason enough to draw tourists by the millions to this part of Thailand.
Looking at the towering and ravaged rock faces that took a beating from the tsunami, a feeling of insignificance overcomes you.
You don't have to be a nature buff to appreciate Phuket's untamed scenery and its wildlife diversity. Our resort was set in a massive orchid garden that left you giddy every time you stepped outside. Sharing our porch with lizards and butterflies was par for the course.
Diving among the bountiful reefs in the bays introduces an underwater kaleidoscope of shimmering colour as the sun catches the scales of shoals of luminous fish as they weave deftly in and about purple and red corals.
Elephants are to be foundresting at their roadside stations eagerly awaiting tourists armedwith bags of mangoes, their greedy trunks constantly extended in anticipation of the stringy yellow pulp and its pip, ready to be swallowed in one easy gulp.
Phuket is also home to a gibbon rehabilitation centre where rare apes rescued from cruelty can enjoy a safe haven until the end of their days.
Between racing about themainland on mopeds, enjoying relaxing Thai massages and kayaking along the coast amidst scores of ghost-pink jellyfish, I found time to be lulled to sleep in a hammock swinging in a stiff ocean breeze on an isolated beach towards Kamala.
With the island exuding a special calm and serenity from every palm tree and lapping wave, the reason why inner peace is so crucial to happiness became clearer by the minute.
Bells chimed at some unspecified distance stirring the air in response to the wind that picked up as blackened storm clouds raced across the soft blue sky. Lightning cracked down on the ominous horizon, and in that instant the skies ruptured releasing a torrent of warm, stinging rain.
And I didn't move at all. My mind felt completely separatedfrom my body and I feared that shouldI move or think or breathe even fora fraction of a moment, they would never reconnect.
