Doing Life Differently in Thailand E-Book

Mel Pike

• Herausgeber: WS
• Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 531

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

THE REAL TREASURE LIES WITHIN THE JOURNEY ITSELF

Realising in her early fifties that she needed to do life differently for a while, Mel seizes the opportunity of a few months with no responsibilities in her happy place, Thailand.

Among the sun-soaked streets of Phuket’s Kata Beach, she discovers the joys of solo travel and embracing new experiences. From the aromatic flavours of Thai food to the restorative power of the ocean to learning more of the language and the fun of immersing herself in the vibrant culture, Mel takes you with her every step of the way.

 The resilience and kindness of the Thai people she befriends have a profound impact on her. As her days unfold, Mel candidly reflects on love, loss and the passage of time, and sees how essential it was for her to simplify her life.

 At its core, this book is a celebration of courage and curiosity, where each moment is infused with possibility and wonder, inspiring readers to step outside their comfort zones, live life to the full, accept the warmth of genuine human connections and create lifelong memories. It’s a reminder that travel has the power to awaken the senses and nourish the soul.

Leseprobe

Published by Solo Sisters Publishing

Copyright © 2024 Melanie Pike

This is a work of non-fiction, inspired by real and historical events. However, some of the names of characters in this book have been changed out of respect for their privacy.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the express written permission of the author.

A catalogue record is available for this book from the National Library of Australia.

ISBN 978-0-9756185-0-9

First Edition Published 2024

For my wonderful Thai friends Pui, N’Bow, P’Sak, Kunya, Mickey and Khun Tuk. You’re the reason I said that in all my wildest dreams I could never have imagined the people I’ve been lucky to meet, the places I’ve seen, the food I’ve eaten and the kindest hearts that have made me feel so welcome and helped me live so happily here.

And for Rosie Pearl, my chocolate Labrador gal, who sat just over my left shoulder on her green velvet armchair, keeping me company the whole time I sat at my keyboard. You never, ever missed an opportunity to be by my side. Your soft snoring and dozing provided comfort. Your endless patience while I was so absorbed in my writing has been noted and appreciated. Now it’s time for more sniffaris (sniff safaris) together. Without a doubt, little choccy girl, you are my sunshine!

Contents

Foreword

Introduction

22 February 2023 Hobart–Melbourne–Singapore | Kata Beach, Phuket

23 February Kata Beach | Mani-Pedi | Uniforms

24 February Kata | Fresh Food Market and a Massage

25 February Laundry | Sunbaking | Wai

26 February Oranges or Mandarins |  Cat Woman | Cannabis

27 February Street Stall Eating | Cha Yen

28 February Fish Spa | Nai Harn Beach | Long Sentences

1 March Language Lessons | Tattoos | Ice Cream

2 March Old Phuket Town | Pink Eggs  | Crying Tiger Pork

3 March Super Surf Bars | Night Hawkers

4 March Power Cables | Imploding Footpaths | Mango & Sticky Rice

5 March Motorbikes Versus Walking

6 March Jai Yen Yen | Work-Life Balance

7 March Chalong | Paddle-Boarding Hound

8 March Makha Bucha Day |  Broom & Feather-Duster Seller

9 March Curve Balls | Meeting the Locals

10 March Self-Care | Dissolving Inhibitions |  Choosing the Beach

11 March Croc-Wearing Gardener | Fresh Seafood

12 March Moving On | Phuket Town |  Apple’s Carport Restaurant

13 March Pool Time | Lego Man | Naka Market

14 March Thai Boyfriend | 3D Museum | Phuket Sunday Street Market

15 March Local Living | Central Phuket Shopping Mall | Coconut Ice Cream

16 March Excess Words | Hair Sparkles

17 March Sino-Portuguese Buildings | Pink Night Skies

18 March Joys of foodpanda | What’s For Dinner?

19 March Street Smells | Real-Life Connections

20 March Unwinding | Nothing Changed | Picnic For One

21 March Karon | Table For Two

6 April Team Phuket | Blu Pine Villa |  Fruit Smoothies

7 April Kata Noi | Khun, Phii and Nong

8 April Vitamin Sea | Triggerfish

10 April Navel Oranges | Spot the Poser

11 April Lotus Flowers

12 April Spicy Papaya Salad | Pizza

13 April Songkra | New Year Celebrations

14 April Online Shopping | Microbusinesses

15 April Hills | Jungle | Tsunami

16 April Together Time | New Precedent

17 April Swimming in the Rain | Bye-Bye Husband

18 April Kanom Krok | Sun-Lounge Heist | Computer Says No

19 April Living With Less | Education | Giving

20 April Alpha Language School | Kruu Noi

21 April People Watching |Colourful Clutches | Khun Sak

22 April Politicians | Kunya & Manfred

23–24 April Singapore Luxury | Food, Glorious Food

25 April Intensive Thai | Department of Immigration

26 April Khao Lak | Khun Sa

27 April Tattoos | Supernatural Powers

28 April Meditation | Chasing Butterflies | Life Choices

29 April Stormy Show | Big Buddha

30 April Friendly Faces | Mixing Two Flavours | Veggie Flowers

1 May Pui | Renovations | My Passport Stamp

2 May Picture Postcard | Daydreaming

3 May Thai Time | Win Win | Sharing Struggles

4 May Frangipani | My Local Bar

5 May Chicken Soup Noodles | Mr Redwine

6 May Doing Nothing | King & Country

7 May What I’m Missing | Walking Loop | New Friends

8 May Student Again | N’Bow & His Family

9 May Missing Fruit Seller | Drunken Male Termites

10 May Protein Sources | No Swimming | Drain Covers

11 May Fluffy White Waves |  Taxi Ride With a Smile

12 May Solo Sisters | Rewind: 12 May 1989

13 May Seafood Noodles | Blue Hour | Gutsy

14 May Lesson in Weed | Garlic Chicken

15 May Move Forward Party | BeBo

16 May M&M’s for Breakfast |  Lazy Monday | Khun KK

17 May Noisy Neighbours | Name Changes

18 May Time to Think | Woo-Woo | Beach Seduction

19 May Cooking With Kunya | Georgia Arrives

20 May Painted Toenails | Swimming in the Rain

21 May Friendships | ‘How Much You Pay?’ | Sanook with Pui

22 May Bad Luck Be Gone | Phuket Noodles | Fried Bananas

23 May Ellieephants | Relaxed Vibe

24 May Strength | Loyalty | Longevity

25 May Thai Doughnuts | Aprons & Bandannas | Scoooooop

26 May Limestone Cliffs | Dancing on the Footpath

27–29 May Khao Lak | FoG | Treasured Friendship

30 May Coconut Milk Sweets | Bye For Now | Cherished Memories

31 May Non-Routine Routine | Pampered Pooches

1 June Empty Nest | Lottery

2 June Kunya Love | Kev From Wollongong | Going It Alone

3 June Community | Connections | Solitude

4 June Birthday Colours | Happy Place

5 June Khaow Nieow Sunkyar | N’Bow’s Phone

6 June Time Standing Still |  Lured by the Ocean | Nong Nong

7 June Staying Longer | Love Language

8 June Neat & Tidy | ‘You’ve Come Alone, Really?’

9 June Can Do | Lifeguards | Not My Rules

10 June Language Breakthrough |  Beach Club | Sisterhood

11 June Supermarket Visit | Fairy Lights

12 June Shoulder Knots | Cold Red Wine | Funny & Sexy

13–14 June 40,443 words | 80% Thai, 20% Australian | Opening Night

15 June Blue Bus | Pineapple Biscuits | Hot Dusty Mess

16 June No Red Flags | Curvy Gal | Nobody Cares

17 June Bar Signage | United Nations | Cricket

18 June Kuala Lumpur | Guilty Drug Mule

19 June Grounded | Queen of Durian | Golden Sun

20 June Renewed Buzz | Life Appointments | Blank Pages

21 June Antarctic Midwinter | 38 Degrees | Community

22 June Me | Sitting on the Sand

23 June No Power | Durian Gone Viral

24 June Early Waves | 50% Ocean Time | Piercing

25 June Phang Nga Bay | Water Goddess | Bioluminescence

26 June Cake | Jai | Greng Jai

27 June Chut Thai | 2,000 Screaming Kids | Vivid Memories

28 June Dog Rescue | Spirits | Beliefs

29 June Brekkie Goodies | Peeling Back the Layers | Life Audit

30 June Best Pad Thai in Phuket | Chicken Feet

1 July Neon Lights | Saxophone | Getting My Dance On

2 July Switch Off Your Phone | Choices | Shimmering

3 July Unlucky in Love | Catching Customers

4 July When Time Doesn’t Matter

5 July Beach Hawkers | Sun Lounge Men

6 July Ear Infection | Lip Balms | Herbal Inhalers

7 July Suffering | Courage |  Cherishing the Little Things

8 July Warm and Fuzzy | Helping Friends | Kindness Matters

9 July Snakes | ‘I Love Thailand’ Tat | Lady Boys

10 July Gigolo Hub | Spontaneous Ice Cream Curls

11 July Sunrise Offerings & Blessings | Fourteen More Days

12 July Greener Green | Bluer Blue | Soft Sea | Sans Selfie

13 July Kata Temple | Thai Gold | Kitchen Utensils

14 July Yar Kit Mark | Hints of Apricot | Frugal Living

15 July The Metro | Upscale Clubbing | Freddie Mercury

16 July Low Profile | Indigo & Peach | Duck Crackling

17 July Final Week | Cards | New Plans

18 July No Cooking | Coconut Cake | Clubbing With P’Sak

20 July Girl, Not Monkey | The Whole Street Knows You, Madam

21 July N’Bow | Raspberry & Passionfruit | Salt Water

22 July Packing | Kunya Kisses | Not Letting Go Yet

23 July Monsoon Clouds | Curtains of Rain | One Last Dance

24 July Bye For Now | Missing You Already

25 July Unsettled Heart | Tears & More Tears

25–26 July Singapore–Melbourne–Hobart | Home Sweet Home

Epilogue

Thank You – Korp Khun Kha

About the Author

Foreword

I’m so pleased you have this book in your hands and can spend time with my inspiring friend Melanie Pike, one of the big-hearted people on the earth whom I first met on our Vietnam Gourmet Safari in 2016. We were travelling from Hanoi to Saigon enjoying so many delicious adventures spread across two weeks. Mel is one of those people who really lives in the moment, savours people and experiences, is huge fun AND loves food - so of course we hit it off. Her laugh is a classic!

While on this trip I was intrigued to hear her story and how this was her first trip away from her husband Joe who was suffering severe PTSD and depression after stints in Afghanistan and Iraq. He was struggling with life and often in a very dark place. She was very loving and hugely supportive of finding a way for his life to improve. Over the years she had moved mountains to help him get the right treatment and specialists.

We stayed in touch. I was so pleased when I heard her plan to give herself ‘long-service leave from life’ and spend five months in Thailand, a place she had a deep connection with. Many years ago, Mel spent twelve months going to high school in rural Thailand while she was an exchange student.

In 2023 off she went on her brave, challenging and hugely rewarding adventure. She felt sure Joe would be okay as now he thankfully has a great support team around him.

Working on improving her Thai language with its endless consonants, vowel combinations and tonal variations was hard, but wow did it open doors for Mel who wowed taxi drivers, nail artists, restaurateurs and shop owners with her linguistic skills. Such a compliment to the beautiful people of Thailand to speak their language.

Her daily Instagram posts from Phuket of her adventures while she was away - with the language and the food - were warm, charming and unique. While reading them I knew this was surely the basis of a book. An “Eat Pray Love” for the new times; something as genuine and authentic as Melanie herself. I suggested the idea and she ran with it.

Melanie carved her own path into the world of self-publishing and like everything in her life she found a way to make this book happen. She wrote it, found an editor, cover designer, and navigated a way to self-publish completely separate from the major publishing houses. In no time – whoosh, here it is.

I’m so proud of Melanie and all she has achieved. Life is not for sissies and to rise above and triumph and have produced this cracking good read that will make you hungry, smile and feel warm inside … that’s gold!

I’m sure you’ll enjoy reading this book.

You might also like to visit Mel’s micro-business, Bright Blossom Bags www.brightblossombags.com. They sell vibrant colourful clutches and totes all made in Thailand. She’s working together with her Thai friend, Pui and their business is built on kindness, laughter, knowledge sharing, respect and love. Women helping other women and paying it forward!

All success to you my friend.

Maeve O’Meara OAM

Introduction

I have a confession to make.

I’d allowed myself to buy into many of the common stereotypes surrounding Phuket (pronounced poo-ket) in Thailand. This was before I had even visited the place to see it for myself. I’d concluded that this city was all about the endless party vibe, the scantily clad bar girls and the overcrowded beaches; an island mecca for sex, particularly for the lost, lonely and desperate from all corners of the world.

Having been to Thailand many times I’d always avoided staying in Phuket, assuming that this wasn’t the ‘real’ Thailand that I’d grown to know and love. This destination is a tourist magnet and I thought I’d progressed long ago from being just a tourist in this country.

I’m now delighted to say my misguided perceptions and unfounded presumptions about Phuket have been well and truly squashed. Sure, Phuket is a great place to party, and there are areas where you can go completely crazy and meet random strangers in various stages of undress dancing on top of bars if that’s your desire. But you need to deliberately place yourself amongst it. In fact, the rich cultural experiences on offer far outweigh any of that. This amazing place and its people are friendly, welcoming and unique. Before long you may even find that it has reached deep inside your heart and established a permanent spot there.

Phuket Island is separated from the mainland by a narrow sea channel and the 660-metre Sarasin Bridge connects it to Phang Nga province. If you ever feel like a drive to Bangkok, it’s 840- odd kilometres away. Phuket is in the far south of Thailand, closer to Malaysia. It’s a tourist hotspot with 14 million domestic and international visitors in 2023.

I grew up in Albury, New South Wales, Australia. It’s located on the northern side of the Murray River with its twin city Wodonga being on the southern side in the state of Victoria. In my last year of high school, I decided I wanted to be an exchange student and live overseas for a year, hoping it would provide me with some sort of direction once I left school as I didn’t really have any.

I applied to be an American Field Studies (AFS) exchange student. This program involved studying overseas for twelve months and having an intercultural adventure: living with a local family; attending a local school; absorbing another culture; often learning a new language and gaining life skills while making friends; and having a great time. When the letter arrived to say I had been chosen to participate in the program, I was full of excitement and anticipation. A whole year away, stepping into the unknown, seemed appealing. I originally selected Japan as my destination, only to be told that Japan wasn’t available but Thailand was. This country girl knew nothing about Thailand apart from the fact that the food was spicy. Albury had recently acquired a Thai restaurant, which in itself was pretty unbelievable given the food choices in the 1980s in my town were limited to Chinese and Italian.

On 13 March 1989, aged seventeen, I said goodbye to my family and boarded a plane to Melbourne to connect with a flight to Bangkok. I don’t need to reread the diary I kept back then to remember that I left home in a flood of tears. My dislike of goodbyes has stayed with me throughout my life.

I had exchanged several letters with my Thai host family and knew I was going to live in Kamphaeng Phet, a town some 350 kilometres north of Bangkok. For months I stumbled over the name of my town, until finally I got the pronunciation right: ‘Gum-paeng- pet’, not ‘Cam-fang-fet’.

While deciding what to include in this book I found an old box of bits and pieces that I had kept from my exchange-student days. I came across the yearbook that the AFS Thailand exchange students from all over the world had made. We all contributed one page and wrote about how our year had played out. I was very curious to read what eighteen-year-old me had to say: Thailand is truly a beautiful country, deep in history and tradition from ancient temples to hill tribe people. Thailand and its people have been good to me in my time spent here and I know I’ll return one day to re-experience a bit of my year here again.

Once my exchange year was over and I’d returned home to Albury, it wasn’t long before I was ready for my next adventure. I moved to Melbourne, the capital of Victoria, a lively, artsy city with trams running down the middle of many of the inner-city streets, umpteen late-night cafés, Vic Market for fresh food and an eclectic mix of people and food choices from so many different countries. I felt very grown-up and capable as I carved out this new life for myself. I lived in the inner-city suburb of Richmond, worked at an upmarket food hall and coffee bar in South Yarra, and fell in love with all this city had to offer.

I eventually tired of the frantic pace of the coffee bar and making toasted focaccias. I started a business degree at Swinburne University, while cleaning the homes of the rich to provide me with a minimal income. I met a man, not a wealthy one, whom I lived with for the next six years. I continued to study the Thai language on a Saturday morning in a class full of middle-aged men, most of whom had Thai wives or girlfriends. What a fun class it was, and our teacher was a posh Englishman who’d married a Thai lady, so we had access to a native speaker.

I travelled backwards and forwards to Thailand on holidays, to study at university and once for a short work stint as a Thai- speaking graduate at a major insurance company. Just as my career was taking off, my long-term relationship ended. All I wanted was to be close to my family and that meant moving to Sydney in New South Wales. For the next six years, drifting from job to job chasing the money, I was desperately trying to find something I enjoyed. I found myself working as a personal assistant to those in middle management in all sorts of industries. My weekends mostly revolved around where my Australian Rules football team, the Sydney Swans, were playing. The games were thrilling and we went as a family for many years.

Sometime in 2001, reading the paper during one of those football games, I saw an article about online dating. It was a new concept and seen at the time as an odd and somewhat embarrassing way to meet someone. I’d tried pubs, clubs, blind dates and desperate and dateless balls and knew I had nothing to lose. I went home that night and joined the online dating website, RSVP. I was flattered by the attention I received from complete strangers, but there was one man who impressed me with the written word. We exchanged multiple emails and then my internet provider went out of business. I came home from work one day to find a letter in my letterbox from this man. He’d managed to track me down.

For our first real-life date, I met Joe at Hoxton Park Airport. He was working as a commercial pilot and had flown himself from country New South Wales in a four-seat, single-engine Cessna 172 Skyhawk. (I let him add this bit because how would I know that!) Soon I was enjoying a joy flight over Sydney. My parents had always told me to be wary of getting into cars with strangers, but aeroplanes? Six years later he would become my husband.

I eventually went to live with him: first in country New South Wales, then in Darwin in the Northern Territory – the Outback, endless expanses of red earth, vast, starry night skies, crocodiles and swimming under waterfalls. Then Joe’s job took him to Canberra, the Australian capital, nestled between Sydney and Melbourne. By this time my family had all moved to Hobart, the Tasmanian capital, 850 kilometres away. I wanted to be close to them, so Joe commuted between the two cities and we made it work. In Hobart, I became a Commonwealth public servant at the Australian Antarctic Division.

In 2008, things began to get difficult. I was in my late thirties when Joe deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan with the Australian Army. He was on the cusp of turning forty, slim and fit, an intelligent, articulate man who chose his words carefully and didn’t suffer fools. He could turn his mind to most things and succeed. He was kind- hearted, considerate, quiet, loving, loyal and believed in making a difference. He valued his family and friends and wanted to make us all proud.

I will never truly know what Joe experienced in those wars. Yet by September 2009, when he had been home for less than a year, I was living with a man whom I barely recognised. He had become distant, hypervigilant, fragile, angry, incredibly emotional and depressed. He was having nightmares and night sweats, drinking excessively, totally shutdown and unable to get off the couch for weeks on end. This troubled man had broken into a million pieces. I was totally shut out.

Two years later, I celebrated my fortieth birthday in New York with Joe and my parents. The city I’d longed to visit delivered so much more than I’d believed was possible: Broadway shows; Magnolia Bakery cupcakes; and wandering for blocks and blocks amid this buzzy, iconic city. It was also a conflicting and sad time.

On our return, Joe went straight into intensive psychiatric treatment. We both knew something had to change. We had no idea what the road ahead would look like and maybe that was a blessing. The diagnosis was confirmed that he had PTSD and major depression. Meanwhile, the angry irrational outbursts continued in private and public over simple things or nothing at all. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t work out what would trigger him. My mate had become a ticking time bomb. I struggled to comprehend how our lives could’ve changed so dramatically. He was forgetful, frightened of the dark, easily startled, constantly fatigued, impatient, wary of strangers, antisocial, unable to function on a daily basis and often suicidal. A long list of medications was now his friend. He was a mere shadow of himself, often engulfed by shame and guilt.

As his capacity decreased, my responsibilities increased tenfold. My role changed from wife to carer.

Although this book isn’t about my husband, I don’t feel like I can ignore the impact those years had on me. They have undoubtedly shaped me into who I am today. The struggles we all face throughout our lives can be unspeakably cruel. Even now I wonder how we both survived those grim times. I learnt to live with a level of pressure I never knew existed. I became hypervigilant for situations that I knew he couldn’t handle. There were arguments and tension between us. It was nothing short of life-changing. My health declined at times due to the immense and sustained stress. The relationship that should’ve been joyful and easy became complicated and hard.

We’ve often talked about how on earth we stayed together. To be honest, we don’t know. We think it was due to our strong friendship and genuine love for one another, but even that has been beyond tested. The simple fun stuff can be a big deal and spontaneity is totally out of the question. Things I used to take for granted, like being able to calmly drive in traffic, go to new places to eat or asking Joe to drop into the supermarket for a few things, can all be a big deal and change the mood in an instant. And we still continue to muddle our way through life.

After more than a decade, white-knuckled on this emotional rollercoaster, I knew I needed to do something just for myself. I had no idea what that would be.

In 2022, just as the world began to open up again after the coronavirus pandemic, we were desperate for some time in the warm tropical waters of Thailand. This country had become a place Joe and I both enjoyed and we felt relaxed and happy whenever we visited. We seemed to find a level of peace there that eluded us at home. Despite the risks of international travel at that time, on a whim we booked a couple of weeks in Phuket, having previously dismissed it as somewhere we wouldn’t want to stay. We couldn’t wait to go.

When Joe and I arrived in Phuket, we found the people desperate for tourists to return to their island. The pandemic had been devastating as they relied so heavily on the tourist dollar to survive. The hit they’d taken confronted us everywhere we went. The sight of empty shops and deserted streets and the stories of survival from the locals were heartbreaking.

One afternoon, I was having a swim in the pool at our favourite hotel, The Sarojin in Khao Lak, an hour north from Phuket airport. The staff there have become like family to us. We were joking around together about me coming to live at the hotel and help them improve their English. I’d often chat with them using my limited and rusty Thai and we thought we could all benefit from some language lessons. That flippant conversation sparked an idea that I couldn’t ignore. I knew I was ready to live in Thailand again for an extended period.

I was keen to soak up all that I love about the place and dive headfirst into the language. I’d saved a chunk of my long-service leave and started planning what a couple of months away might look like. Joe was totally onboard with my idea and made sure I followed through. I returned from that holiday and put my leave application in at work.

Joe and I have a theory that, once you’ve booked your flights, there’s no turning back. I’d like to tell you I researched and plotted my time away, but the truth is I didn’t. Location-wise I thought it would be best for me to be close to the language school I’d chosen, but I also wanted some time near the beach. That was about it for planning. Something I was sure about was that I wanted to escape any hint of my daily routine and erase the daily grind.

When I arrived I started capturing my days through photos and words which kind of morphed into a journal of sorts via my Instagram squares. The painfully practical side of me and my foggy brain (thanks to being fifty-two and in the haze of menopause) knew that if I didn’t capture what I was doing each day in some form, I’d forget. It was as simple as that.

I wrote only for myself. I knew that afterwards I’d want to be able to recapture the sense of calm I felt as I sat on the beach alone, feet buried in the warm sand and staring at a golden sunset, or the taste of a ripe mango paired with sticky rice and smothered in coconut cream, or the feeling of the weightlessness of my body and the worries of the world around me evaporating as I floated in the warm, jade-coloured waters of the Andaman Sea. I wanted to be able to smile as I scrolled back through my photos, words and comments on Instagram. I tagged my posts #livinglikeathai. It never ever crossed my mind that my words would find their way into a book!

There was no polish to my writing. It was real and raw as I recorded the ebb and flow of my daily life, shared my thoughts, my sheer delight, my utter despair and sadness, as well as my interactions, hopes and, inadvertently, the lives of those I met.

Living vicariously through other people’s travel adventures, whether through books, blogs or social media, has long been a favourite pastime of mine. Feeling part of someone’s adventure through experiences generously shared would have me dreaming and scheming of doing the same. I’d imagine the excitement of stepping off the daily treadmill, packing away my everyday routine, travelling solo and letting life rise up to meet me. I never imagined that one day my travels might do that for others.

I’m writing this after having lived in Phuket for a whole 153 days. I still can’t believe how fortunate I was to form genuine and lasting friendships with many wonderful people. Not only Thais but foreigners from all parts of the globe with whom I crossed paths and often found myself laughing.

The experiences that seemed to find me during my stay have given me immense joy. This book really came about by accident. After much encouragement by those who followed my Instagram posts, I decided to dip my toe into the unknow world of self-publishing.

You will meet some truly remarkable people in these pages, learn about them and their lives and hopefully gain a sense of the fascinating Thai culture, learn a bit of their language, have a laugh and come to understand why I have long referred to Thailand as ‘my happy place’.

I’ve not necessarily set out to teach you anything here, only to share with you that doing life differently is possible. There’s so much to be gained from travelling solo and just getting out there and giving it a go. For those who might have the desire to do something similar, trust yourself, dare to dream and the rewards will be yours for the taking. Don’t live with regret – book that airline ticket or buy that caravan. Just make it happen.

I’ve found the relationships that have come my way have formed on a basis of mutual respect, understanding and laughter. My love and admiration for the Thai people and my happy place has deepened after this stay. I’ve had a print on my wall for more than twenty years which says: Enjoy the little things in life. For one day you may look back and realise they were the big things.

I hope you enjoy some of life’s little things and the doing of life differently in the following pages.

Mel- Thailand 1989/90

22 February 2023Hobart–Melbourne–Singapore | Kata Beach, Phuket

Five a.m. kisses from my fur girls, Jasmine, the super-smart black Labrador, and Rosie, the biggest cuddle-muffin chocolate Labrador. Oh and Joe, too. There’s no looking back for me. I dread leaving my girls behind even if it’s only for a short while. I’d tried to put this out of my mind in the days leading up to my departure. I’d repeatedly told them both how much I loved them and that it was okay for them to sleep on my side of the bed. I also knew they’d forgive me for being away, they always do. Thankfully there are now multiple ways of keeping in touch with husbands, but I’d given him the same messages as our girls. I love the anticipation of an international flight. I probably haven’t done enough of them for them to become tedious. Even just getting yourself to the airport after all the prep and packing required for a lengthy time away is reason enough to high-five yourself. I’m now actually on my way.

These next four months all before me to do as I please is liberating and totally foreign. I’ve never had an extended break from my working life. I’d like to say that my departure from home has me on some sort of deliberate self-discovery path but that’s not true. I just know I want to do life differently for a while, only be responsible for myself and improve my languishing Thai language skills. Nor do I want to think about what’s for dinner each night (hello mental load – the invisible burden that women often carry when managing not only their own life but also those in their household).

It was 8 a.m. and, as I walked through duty-free, I was offered a G&T by a chatty man selling of all things Tasmanian gin. I gladly obliged. This simple act was, I believe, the start of doing things differently, although I was oblivious at the time. It was only when I reread my Instagram descriptions that this became obvious.

The flight to Singapore was seamless. I found myself thinking about what these next couple of months might hold while flicking through various movie options and watching the flight tracker. The flight time from Melbourne is around eight hours which I find goes quickly.

At Changi Airport, I went straight up the escalators to the Hainanese chicken hawker stall, not because I was necessarily hungry but rather because I wanted to check that it wasn’t another Covid casualty. My favourite airport not only had its pretend hawker stalls back but also the umpteen luxury-end shops fully stocked and the browsing and buying public were back in numbers.

When flying from Singapore to Phuket, you no sooner sit down and you’re on descent. Phuket has been the gateway through which we have most often entered southern Thailand during our past visits. The musty smell of the air conditioning that hits me as I leave the air bridge always signals that I’ve arrived in Thailand, as do the big smiles on the faces of the staff that are there to provide a warm welcome. I’d purchased a fast pass through immigration and customs that promised I’d be in a taxi and on my way in thirty minutes.

With my meet-and-greet lady waiting for me as I stepped off the plane, I was off and running with my Thai language. My aim is to use it as much as I possibly can, so there was no holding back. I find you can learn so much about people when you’ve got even a small amount of language here and probably anywhere you travel throughout the world. I found out where her hometown was, where she studied, how much she paid for rent a month and lots of other bits and pieces. Small talk is useful for me when I start speaking the language again. Such a great boost to my confidence if I can understand the conversation and be understood. She ushered me through immigration and straight through customs.

When my driver arrived curb side, I had my next opportunity to chat. Initially he thought I’d come to teach Thai kids English and couldn’t quite believe I was here to learn their language. We talked about our favourite Thai food, how to tell the time in Thai, how much he loved his country and how good-hearted Thai people are. He also told me his Thai nickname. Thai names are impossibly long, but thankfully most people have a nickname or cheu len, which literally translates as ‘play name’. When I came here as an exchange student, my Thai family gave me the name Sumalee: ‘beautiful flower’. Thais love to know I have this name and will often call me by it.

The trip from the airport in the north of the island to Kata in the south took about an hour. After the quiet, orderly burbs of Hobart, the bustling, tourist-filled streets of Kata Beach can be quite a sharp shock. The bright lights were back on with restaurants packed, night markets open, locals smiling and street-food carts out and about selling everything from fresh tropical fruit to pad Thai. It was so heartening to see that the place had come alive again.

My brain was fried by the time I opened my hotel room door. By the time my head hit the pillow, I could barely speak. I love seeing how far travel can take you in a day. I also like to know there’s a shower and comfy bed waiting for me at the end of a twenty-hour day.

23 FebruaryKata Beach | Mani-Pedi | Uniforms

I learnt a new Thai phrase this morning. I now know how to say, ‘I’ve locked my key in my room.’ In the process I found that the helpful and sweet ladies at the reception desk of my hotel were keen for a chat and a laugh. I can’t walk past them now without them saying ‘key’ (koon jaer). I’m staying at Kata Poolside Resort on Kata Road, the main street of Kata. It’s nothing flash, probably a bit tired but perfect for me. Unpacking just involved taking piles of clothes still in their packing cells out of my suitcases and dumping them on the day bed. I figure that so long as I’ve got my pool and beach stuff out, I’ll be fine.

Down the lane from my hotel, I met a friendly roti maker. Looks like breakfast is sorted – fresh banana and mango made with a smile and a chat in Thai. We spoke about how hard it is to speak Thai, but she thinks English is harder. I told her I’d see her tomorrow and order in Thai again. The area around the hotel is full of thousands of microbusinesses. There’s no welfare system or safety net for the unemployed over here. If you don’t work, you don’t eat. I’ve always greatly admired how Thai people find ways to employ themselves. They’ve found a market for tourists who can’t or don’t want to peel and cut the tropical fruit on offer, so they’ve done it for us.

In Hobart, not only are passionfruit expensive, they’re also often shrivelled by the time they arrive in the shops. I can’t imagine buying a tray of passionfruit at home. Here it’s just over A$1 per tray of fruit, cut in half and served complete with a spoon. I rarely eat fresh pineapple at home. It’s too tart and sour. Here it’s addictive, sweet, cut in a pretty shape and readily available. The abundance and variety of cheap, fresh tropical fruit is one of the foodie highlights for me in Thailand. You choose how you eat it: as a smoothie, in a cocktail, in a roti, by the piece. What’s not to love about that?

One of the first things I always do when I arrive in Thailand is head out for a foot scrub and mani-pedi. There are no fewer than twenty salons on the street outside my hotel. The biggest dilemma of my day was which one should I pick? Air conditioning and a clean front window won and in I went. There was a wait, but I had nowhere else I needed to be. I had a prime position for the best people watching I’ve had in ages, not only the passing street parade but also those coming into the salon: a steady stream of shapes, sizes, colours, nationalities and hair braids. We really are a weird lot, us humans.

The real action was outside. I lost count of the times I flinched as motorcycle-riding foreigners came within inches of crashing into one another. It’s manic on the roads and my Thai vocabulary expanded once again. From my chatty beauty therapist I learnt the words for car crash, helmet, no helmet, blood and die. It’s no surprise that Thailand has the highest incidence of road traffic deaths involving motorbikes in the world. Let’s just say I’m walking everywhere.

A couple of hours in the salon not only gave me the smoothest feet and shiniest neon-pink-painted nails I’ve had in years but a few new friends. Tomorrow I’m going back for a massage. I think they’ll be seeing a fair bit of me.

Salon staff often sit in a line in front of the massage shops as they coax the passing tourists to partake in the services they offer. They proudly wear salon uniforms in the brightest colours. This love of a uniform is very Thai. There’s a practical side to this as it cuts down on the clothes they need to buy and wash. But they also like to look nice. Being neat and tidy in Thai society is very important and it starts when they are children. School children wear a uniform that hasn’t changed in more than a century. The boys wear tan shorts and the girls knee-length, navy-blue pleated skirts. Everyone wears a crisp white shirt with their name and number embroidered in blue for public schools and red for private schools. I had the pleasure of wearing this uniform when I was here as an exchange student. Girls must not have their hair longer than a short bob and for boys it’s short back and sides. I think they may have relaxed that rule for me as I had long curly hair that I pulled back in a ponytail.

You’ll also see the police here in uniforms so tightly fitted you’ll wonder how they managed to squeeze into them. Government officials wear uniforms more akin to military fatigues complete with fake gold buttons and often decorated with medals. I’m a bit partial to a uniform, too. Seeing the airline crew dressed smartly in crisp uniforms yesterday pleased me. Women wearing their hair in a tight French twist or a sharp bob, immaculate makeup and elegant jewellery complementing their look; men with neat, short hair that’s freshly cut and the waft of expensive aftershave often lingering long after they’ve walked past. Asian airlines maintain their polished image very well.

In Thai society status and social hierarchy is strongly focused upon and uniforms do a great job of helping people work out where other people fit. This also influences the way they speak with one another. Respect is shown by using various gender-specific polite particles at the end of their sentences. For women they use kha; for men, krap. Many aspects of this society and the way it ticks are based on centuries-old traditions. I’m absolutely fascinated by this culture. My curiosity sees me asking lots of questions whenever I visit. As my knowledge of the language has improved, I’ve been able to gain a deeper understanding of their customs and traditions.

I took my freshly painted toes off to the beach where I was able to feel the sublime temperature of the water for the first time. I sat on the sand and watched the many tourists taking five-minute parasails out over the water and back. The speed boat begins to slow as it returns the thrill seeker back to the shore. The Thai person who accompanies the parasailer dangles from the frame of the parasail without wearing any form of harness. They solely rely on a group of about four men who run along the beach trying to grab their dangling legs. This is necessary to prevent the parasail from crashing heavily onto the beach. It’s skilful but that’s one activity that I’ll be happy to watch from the shore. The atmosphere down at the beach was vibrant and lively. How could it not be when it was heaving with relaxed holidaymakers soaking up this beautiful place. Gosh, it feels good to be back here.

24 FebruaryKata | Fresh Food Market and a Massage

My body clock is still adjusting to my new time zone. This meant I was awake at 6 a.m. this morning, which was 9 a.m. at home. Last night, I googled a fresh food market I wanted to visit and thought I’d get up and have a walk to find it.

My love of fresh food markets is deep. While living in Melbourne I had a Saturday afternoon ritual of visiting the Queen Victoria Market, affectionately known asVic Market. The abundance and variety of fresh produce had me eagerly returning each week with my trusty metal shopping trolley. I’d firstly fill it to the brim with fresh fruit and veggies, often buying in bulk to get a better price. I’d make my way into the meat and seafood hall: red meat from the Vietnamese butcher and fish from the Aussie fishmonger. I’d then go across into the hall with the continental delis. I can still smell that delicious mix of cheeses, olives, salamis, cold cuts, dips and other delicacies from the Italian, Greek and Polish delis. I’d select cheese cut from large wheels, several varieties of salami sliced up along with ham off the bone and small tubs of olives and dips. My bread and cake came from the German bakery. If I had enough money, I’d also buy fresh Italian pasta and Greek shortbreads. Once the shopping was done, I’d sit on an upside-down milk crate with other satisfied shoppers and eat warm jam doughnuts. There was nothing I didn’t love about it. I still try and visit whenever I’m in Melbourne.

Google told me my local market was four minutes away but that must have been by motorcycle because I walked, in flip-flops, and thankfully I found it after more like thirty-four minutes. I needed to cross a very busy road. There was a pedestrian crossing, but that means nothing here. I’ve almost got my traffic-weaving confidence back again and I headed into the middle of the road. Unlike at home, no one here really wants to run you over. Well, that’s what I was telling myself. But as a jumbo-sized bus approached, I was glad the driver stopped, allowing me to run to the other side.

Unfortunately, this market seemed quiet. Maybe it’s more alive first thing in the morning. I wandered around looking at what was on offer and realised the seafood and meat probably wasn’t being kept as cold as it should be. When I’d had enough of holding my breath and pinching my nose, I bought some fruit, wandered over to the drinks stall and ordered my mango smoothie in Thai. A group of Thai men sitting around were immediately on for the chat. ‘How long have you lived here?’ ‘Why can you speak Thai?’ ‘Where are you from?’ ‘You’re so clever!’

I sat down on a box and answered their questions. They were eating sticky rice with chicken satays and drinking beer. One had a whiskey. It seems I was sitting at the local pit-stop for the rogue motorbike taxi riders. None of them had a full set of teeth and their banter was funny until they asked me if I had a Thai boyfriend. That was my cue to leave my new friends, telling them that I didn’t, but I had a husband and that they were very cheeky with their question. I can still hear them laughing as I wandered away.

I ventured out again at sunset, when I figured most of the tourists would be down on the beach taking selfies. I was heading for a massage armed with my Thai sentence for ‘Can I have a massage, please?’ (kor newit noi kha). I was greeted like a long-lost friend by my new salon friends from yesterday. They were curious to know where I’d been today (wun nee by nai maa kha), what I’d eaten (wun nee gin arai kha) and if I was well (sabai dii mai kha). All very standard greetings for Thais. I got my request out for a Thai massage, but had forgotten I needed to pick the particular areas of my body to focus on. So my new Thai words for today were neck (kor), shoulders (lai) and back (lung).

After being led up a few steep flights of stairs, I had my feet washed and stripped off for my massage. I’m not sure what I was thinking when I picked the Thai massage. The Thais massage with their elbows and knees and by standing or kneeling on you. The line between pleasure and pain is very thin and at times during my session it was decisively crossed. My brain recited my new words over and over while my body had every knot and ache stretched, kneaded and pummelled out of it. I was pleased when my hour was over. The various forms my body needed to comply with had left me a bit weary. After a much-needed cup of tea downstairs, I pulled myself together and went on my way, promising my salon friends I’d see them again soon.

After a shower I still felt slightly like I’d been run over, but I’m sure that tomorrow I’ll be standing tall, shoulders back, though cursing myself for not picking the aromatherapy option.

25 FebruaryLaundry | Sunbaking | Wai

Having not only slept well, but now rid of the pesky knots in my neck and shoulders, I wandered off with my bag of washing under my arm. I saw a handwritten laundry sign and an arrow pointing down a dirt side road. Turning off the main road, I walked into clouds of smoke. The locals were burning coconut husks to smoke fish. I chatted to the men doing the smoking and asked what sort of fish it was. They told me it was snapper and I asked them if it was delicious, aroy mai, another common topic of conversation with Thais. They assured me it was, even though what I could smell wasn’t so delicious. A little further on in a cluster of small houses I found my washing lady, who offered to do two kilograms of washing and folding for 120 baht (A$5). I got to show off by not only speaking Thai but writing my name in Thai on the washing slip. Didn’t that cause a stir!

Crossing the road, I headed to the beach. The jet skis were out, the paddle boards were out, the surf school crew were out and the female butt cheeks were out too. I’d hoped that trend might have waned as women wised up to the fact they’re paying more for less bikini, butt no! I’m always amazed at the way holidaying foreigners here strip down to almost nothing, bake their bodies until they look brown and leathery and have no problem walking the beach practically naked. The beach is packed with people burning in the sun, no doubt believing that a tan gives them a healthy glow and leaves them looking like they’ve been on holidays. We’ve probably all been there.

Admittedly, having the warmth of the sun on your body can be incredibly energising, particularly if you’ve arrived from a cold climate. Coming from Australia where we have an alarmingly high incidence of skin cancer, it’s impossible for me to deliberately lie out in the sun. The awareness campaign highlighting the risks of sun damage has clearly worked on me.

You’ll rarely see a Thai do this. Thai people are generally shy and modest. They’d never wear a bikini down the street without covering up. They don’t sunbake. They tend to wear long sleeves, pants and floppy hats when working outside to keep the sun off them. Thais don’t want to be brown. You’ll see some women with a white paste on their face in the name of beauty much like we wear foundation. Burmese women put a yellow paste on their cheeks for the same reason. My friends at the salon told me that they think the nail colour looks better with white skin and they’d love to be pale like me and not brown.

Looks like that fake tan I bought before coming away is going in the bin. Time to just be comfortable in my pale freckled skin because there will be no sunbaking for me. I’ll be putting my SPF50 on and sitting in the shade whenever I can.

I had the worst sunburn of my life while snorkelling in Thailand and that will never ever happen again. I can still remember the excruciating pain of having to sit on a flight back to Australia with the backs of my legs blistered and burnt. Not something I intend to repeat. While we’re talking about body bits, here’s a little cultural insight. The head is the most sacred part of the body for Thais and it’s very rude to touch or pat someone on the head. The feet are at the other end of the spectrum. To point your foot at someone or push things around with your feet is seen as impolite. Shoes aren’t worn inside. It’s also not uncommon to see a big bowl of water with a ladle at the front door. This is so you can wash your feet before going inside. Thailand is also the spiritual home of flip- flops. No one wants to do up and undo laces multiple times a day.

Thais are extremely clean people having multiple showers or bathing in some form each day. The heat and humidity will do that. Some also sleep on the floor and sit on the floor to eat, so it’s always swept and kept clean.

Thais don’t ordinarily shake hands when they meet you. They wai, which involves placing your palms together in a prayer- like manner, with the tips of the thumbs at a level between the chin and eyebrows. The positioning of the hands can vary depending on who you are greeting and the level of respect being shown. It’s one of the first things children are taught and it was something I learnt very early on when I first lived here. I was also encouraged to dip my head lower than those older than me when walking past them to show respect.

Each morning when we got dropped off at school by my Thai mother we would wai her as we said goodbye, no hugs and kisses. The maid who lived at our house always lowered her head when she walked past my Thai host parents. If she came into the room to speak to them, she would sit on the floor. It was all about status and respect. This aspect of the culture is still very evident in so many areas of Thai life. The wai is used when greeting and farewelling people, to show respect to elders, teachers, monks and others in positions of authority, thanking someone, apologising to someone, when visiting temples and receiving blessings.

Every time I handed money over to those I bought food from today, they would wai before taking it. It’s nice to see this is still so much part of who they are.

26 FebruaryOranges or Mandarins | Cat Woman | Cannabis

I wandered to a taxi stand on the street outside my hotel and asked one of the drivers how much it would cost to go to Karon Beach, the next beach along from Kata. She told me 200 baht (A$8) and five minutes later I’d arrived. On the ride over, we discussed that I could speak Thai clearly. She said it felt cold as we’d had rain overnight – even though it was around 28 degrees Celsius – and that Thailand had changed for the worse and she wasn’t happy about that. I reassured her that Thailand was not alone in this and that change was happening the world over. She took my money with a wai, saying it was her lucky day to start off with a fare of 200 baht.

It’s hard not to compare and constantly convert the price of things back to what I’m familiar with at home. One hundred baht is about A$4.40. I use an app to do my conversions, but I keep A$4 in my head so I can quickly work out prices if I need to. It really is still very cheap and I’m told by the locals that Phuket is more expensive than other provinces around Thailand that don’t have the tourism industry keeping them afloat. With the average wage in Thailand being between 16,000 baht (A$700) and 20,000 baht (A$900) a month, a minimum daily wage of 370 baht (A$15) and rent often costing about 10,000 baht (A$400) a month, there’s not much left to live off.

Unlike at home, where the cost of living has increased substantially, I don’t think prices here have risen that much since I first started coming to Thailand decades ago. It makes it a very affordable place for foreigners to live and holiday. The retirement market is growing each year and I can see why. Affordability and great weather seem to be at the top of the list for many and they’re easily ticked off. The crazy growth in the sale of condos to foreigners is another indicator that you get good ‘bang for your buck’ here.

I strolled onto a stunning stretch of sand. This is a fantastic walking beach, being more than three kilometres long. You can’t help but feel grateful when your day can start here. Tourists were out jogging, walking, swimming and sitting on the sand, beginning their day in the best possible way. The water was crystal clear and not the slightest bit cold as I dipped my feet in for the first time. I walked for a while and then had a refreshing swim. That first ocean swim of the day is really something to be savoured. For me it provides a level of calm, even more so when I float on my back. Absolute bliss.

Once I’d convinced myself to leave the water, I found a juice shop and sat down for an OJ. The oranges, tiny and sweet, taste like mandarins. The chief juice maker was still at the market, so I was told I had to wait six minutes. I told them I was happy to wait and the stall holder seemed surprised. There was nowhere I needed to be with my time now mine to do with as I please. I had a great opportunity to sit and listen to the chat around me. Seems to be my secret superpower over here, particularly when people say something about me and I answer in Thai. It never ceases to stun them.

After my fresh juice it was time for another taxi ride home. The drivers were all lounging around in the shelter (sala) on the other side of the road, but were quick to move at the prospect of a fare.

I got another female driver and somehow we began talking about her love of cats. She has ten at home and a few fake fluffy ones on the dash of the car that let out a meow when pressed. By this stage, I was laughing hard as she drove and had the cats meowing at the same time. She told me she looks after sick and injured cats and goes to a shelter to assist as often as possible. Then she pulled out some cat snacks from inside her door because every taxi driver has cat snacks ready to go in their car. We laughed about the antics of her cats. The word for cat in Thai is meaow, but the word for dog isn’t woof. This amuses me more than it probably should.

Reaching my drop-off spot, I fiddled around in my wallet for the fare. Cash is and always will be king here. I pulled out a 500 baht (A$21) note and told her 200 baht was for the trip and 300 baht was to feed the cats. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. The sweet woman, she was so grateful. We parted wishing one another good luck and happy days and hoping we’d meet again.

Once the sting was out of the sun, I went to catch the sunset at Kata Beach and came back with weed. Just kidding. But I certainly could have if I wanted to. You see, last year Thailand legalised cannabis (guncha).