Joe and I left for Thailand Wednesday December 29th 2010 and arrived on Saturday January 1st 2011. There were flight complications with KLM so we stayed the night in Amsterdam which was nice in theory, but kind of a pain in the ass. From there the flight to Bangkok was 12 hours. The airline was nice enough to bring everyone champagne at midnight to celebrate the New Year. The single glass of complimentary cheap bubbly wasn’t sufficient compensation for the life changing beach party we were missing.
Once in Bangkok, we missed our connecting flight via Air Asia to Phuket because of the delay in Amsterdam and had to buy new tickets. Air Asia is cheap and known for being sticklers on cancelations or any ticket modifications. The flight from Bangkok to Phuket was hardly an hour. I slept while Joe eagerly tried to point out the bird’s eye view scenery. I could have cared less at the time, but it was really beautiful in retrospect. We took a taxi to the hostel Joe made reservations at. I felt like I was in a movie when we checked into the guesthouse. It was on top of a massage school and directly overlooked Bangla Road (the main party street in Patong). The owner checked us in and seemed to be confused about the reservation, which Joe had confirmed, but not paid for yet.
I grew up in a large family so I am no stranger to “roughing it” at the Motel 6. The guesthouse was pretty comparable, but so much more authentic and swimming with backpackers. I was happy Joe opted for the private bathroom. Who wants to be hung over in a communal bathroom?
I was surprised by all the smells in Thailand. The open ocean air smells salty and fresh, but Patong Beach smells like shit…literally. Some of the food smells savory and delicious, while other foods smell sour and disgusting. Several hostels don’t have hot water here and if they do, the water heater is attached to the showerhead. People actually take their shoes off before entering houses which was gross to me at first because some people’s feet are dirtier than their shoes. I was almost constantly worried about getting a foot fungus for the first few months.
The first day we took a nap and walked across the street to enjoy our first Thai beer on the beach. Joe selected a foreign friendly restaurant for my first Thai food experience. I safely ordered the fried rice. After that we partied hard in Patong. Joe was worried I would be scared because of how hedonistic it is, but I loved every second of it. We took shots at as many bars as we could and lit a lantern at the end of the night before going back to our guesthouse.
I was extremely hung over the following day. To make matters worse, I opted to take a tuk tuk for the 1 ½ hour drive to our next location, JW Marriott Mai Khao. What can I say? I thought it would be authentic. We had gotten smoothies and bagels from Au Bon Pain and I barely made it into the Marriott gates before puking into the empty smoothie cup. I managed to gracefully put the lid back on so people would hopefully mistake it for a smoothie instead of vomit, except that the cup was clear and it was obvious the bile colored contents were not made of fruit.
The welcoming Thai girls put a purple hibiscus lei around my neck and I bolted to the bathroom to clean up while Joe checked us into his future place of work. The room was absolutely stunning. Naturally, the bathtub was my favorite.
The villa had 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, full kitchen and living room. We went to the beach during the day and stayed up at night watching the Sci Fi channel in the living room while snacking on overpriced junk food. We stayed for 3 nights and as far as I was concerned, that was my new house.
We hired a taxi 2 days to drive us around to try and find a place to live for the next year. There weren’t any agencies to assist with renting properties so we had to go by word of mouth and drive aimlessly looking for handwritten “For Rent” signs. I was astounded by the indignant living standards. The houses the taxi driver characterized as “foreign friendly” and “nice” wouldn’t even be found in America’s ghettos.
Large families pile into tiny shacks that are no bigger than most American’s living rooms. Buildings are eternally covered in dirt from the rainy season and no one seems to know what a power washer is.
One of the houses we looked at was nothing more than an empty shell with only one dirty mattress on the floor. I was horrified and began to fear we would be forced to live in the jungle with cobras and no air conditioning. The locals tend to hang around outside (probably because it’s too hot inside with no air conditioning) and they curiously stared at me and Joe. As outsiders, we didn’t feel welcome in the Thai villages. The place we moved to for the first month was called Baleyon. It cost $1,000 USD for a studio, but we had a pool, screened porch and laundry services. The next thing on my to-do list was to FIND A JOB…
Angela Killian 
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