Oh, Phuket, Let's Go to the Beach and other Adventures...

Howdy ho, and welcome back to the well-rested and tanned Yellow River Chronicles.  First, apologies for the two week "miss" on the YRC.  As a way of explanation and general excuse making, let the YRC staff just say that the time was well spend and we'll tell you ALL about it in the future weeks.  And, as a part of that, today we're headed for southern Thailand and the famous island of Phuket.

For those of you not familiar with Thailand, there is a  strip of the country  shares a peninsula with Burma.  Once you get past that, its Thailand all the way until you run into the northern part of Malaysia.  Phuket is noted for its beautiful beaches and also for being ground-zero for the 2004 Tsunami.  The coastal areas seem to have recovered well and it's back to beach business on Phuket.

View from window of hotel in Montepulciano

We had an experience in Phuket that is similar to something the YRC staff have been experiencing more and more in our travels, particularly in Southeast Asia.  Every once in awhile, we step through a portal into an alternate universe.

No this not the "free pour" Sangria night at Maya's on Julu Lu. This is the classic "I don't think we are in Kansas anymore" moment.

These are not the historical moments, when one goes back in time (Kyoto and parts of London, Rome and Paris) and has an overwhelming sense of history.  They are not the lyric moments as in the hills around Montepulciano or in the Sea of Cortez where the beauty of the moment rolls over you like a warm wave.

Would you like to try our Padd Tai Burrito special?

No, these are the moments where you step through a doorway and enter what seems to be an alternate universe.   A bizarre, alternate universe.

It started with a 2 a.m. flight from Shanghai to Phuket and then hurtling by hotel car through the late night Phuket scene to arrive at a hotel that was so big it should be a separate country.  The place was so big (How big was it?) that they had caches of food and water on the paths in case you were lost and starving to death while trying to find the Spa.  (Where is "C" wing?  C WING!!!)

On a late-night taco walk to a Mexican restaurant on a Thai beach..it happened.  The YRC staff stepped past the statues of frogs dressed like Mexicans, the unique Thai/Mexican motifs (Thai colors, Mexican patterns) on the tapestries, and the three-piece Thai band singing mariachi songs in Spanish.  We reclined at a two-top with beach view, ordered up a couple of Caribbean margaritas (??) and scanned the room.  There was something strange and familiar about the people in the restaurant with us...something familiar....and wrong (cue sinister Thai Mariachi music in background).

No amulets for you here, Tovarich

And as we opened the menu, the feeling became stronger.  Where were we?  Who are all these large, pale, rude people?  Where is our basket of Thainachos with lemongrass salsa?

The menu was in three languages....english, spanish and....can you guess the third?  It was Russian...tovariches (rhymes with um...witches).

What is russian for taco?  It is лепешка!  The alert YRC staff surmised that we had not escaped Moscow!  The Russian zombie-cab drivers and friends had stalked us along the Trans-Siberian, lurked in the borscht-joint alleys in old Shanghai, and then POUNCED like a poached sturgeon in Phuket!  

The restaurant was full of Russians, singing Russian songs with the Thai band, ordering Mexican food in Russian and generally being....Russian.

Courtesy of Business Report Thailand

The next day as we strolled in search of amulets and other sacred trinkets, we saw Russian signs everywhere, Russian prices, Russian bus tours, Russian kayaking trips (Row Tovarich!  ROW!) and, yes, Russian restaurants and bars.  What was going on?  Why had the Russians invaded?   You can Google it (or check out this link: click here for the background on Tovariches on the Beach)

But the YRC staff does field research, people.  Investigative journalism.  Ya CHA!  We decided to ask a local, and the conversation went like this.

Tailor outside one of the many tailor shops in town.

"Excuse me, I notice you have signs in Russian."
"Yes, you want suit? I'll make it for you, top quality."
"No, thanks.  I live in Shanghai and the tailors there basically make suits for free.  Do you do a lot of suits for the Russians?"
"The Russians.  Ha. They are too cheap.  Money. Money. Money.  That's all they care about."
"So, the Thai's don't like Russians much?"
The Tailor stops and stares.  "I am not Thai.  I am from Burma.  All tailors here are from Burma."
"Oh...do you like Mexican food?  ...never mind."

<Cue balalaika music.  Fade to black>