The air here is weighty; thick with humidity and tinged with the smell of spices. Around us are shouting vendors, pedaling local delicacies from tiny stalls and thrusting out their hands to clasp those of wide-mouthed tourists, of which I am one, along with my best friend, Chris.
Tuk tuks are not allowed down this street; their spluttering engines only faintly recognizable as one element of the cacophony of noise resounding from all around. Music mingles with the distant lash of the waves along the famous stretch of Patong Beach, and the megaphone enhanced shouts of the boxing promoter: ‘When? Tonight!’. This is Soy Bangla.
I turn to Chris and whisper: ‘I don’t think we’re in Australia anymore’.
This is a chronicle of my first visit to Phuket, Thailand.

Someone once told me that there is nothing like overseas travel to open your eyes; to teach you life lessons you will not find in the pages of university texts. After ten days in Phuket, I felt as if I had experienced so much. I had wandered the cluttered alleys of Otop, sipped coconut shakes in Patong while watching the passing parade, swished through the white sands of Surin Beach, giggled and cheered through a Katoy show, released lanterns at Loy Kratong and mingled with the Thai ‘Hi So’.

It is so easy to fail to notice all the subtle nuances to a culture when you are immersed as a permanent resident. My best friend Chris and I had no such trouble. We fell in love with so many elements of this booming island.

The open air markets of Otop abound with countless treasures, and is at the same time a rather confronting experience for two nineteen year-old Australians who have only just ventured outside of their country for the first time.

Faced with the prospect of bartering, we are jubilant, armed with false confidence that we are paying the lowest price for our lovely new goods. Such misguided pride is quickly quashed when we are informed we probably paid at least three times more than we should have.

The beaches are equally as awe-inspiring. Patong Beach resonates with the same giddy chaos of Soy Bangla and is traced by hundreds of glossy red and yellow tuk tuks carrying bewildered tourists alongside enthusiastic street vendors.

We are more taken with the much quieter Surin and quaint cove of Laem Singh, blessed with the clearest water we have ever seen and framed by strings of restaurants serving some of the most delicious food we have ever tasted. Gazing out into the water from our deckchairs, I turn to Chris and say ‘Can we stay here forever?’.

Beyond the beauty of the beaches and the fantastic shopping are the subtleties that only observant tourists will notice. The people, especially the Thai women, have an air of welcome that is somewhat foreign to those used to a guarded, cynical world.

The women of Phuket are petite and glossy haired, carefully groomed and vibrant, ranging from the strong and ambitious to the sweet and forthcoming. We become familiar with the expression ‘Mai bpen rai, mai bpen rai’: ‘no worries’. If there is ever a phrase to describe the people we encountered, this is it.

We were lucky enough to be in time for Loy Kratong, a beautiful, uniquely Thai festival. We excitedly snapped photos of our flower and candle topped boats as they floated gracefully into the water, only to watch as they caught fire and sank a moment later. We can only hope this was not bad luck, yet it does form a small blemish on what is otherwise an incredible, memorable trip.

It has been several weeks since we have lain on the sands of Surin or wandered the expanse of Jungceylon, and we already miss the wonderful food, friendly people and yes, the frenetic nightlife of Soy Bangla.

Someone once said ‘Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the places and moments that take our breath away’. I, for one, felt my breath catch in my throat on many occasions over my ten days in Phuket.