Everything you’ve heard about Phuket is true. There are a few other truths that slightly redeem it, but it’s mostly awful. Fresh from our safe haven in Bali, we were dumped into a cesspool of tourist traps, shady cab drivers and cramped quarters.
We overpaid for the taxi to Phuket Town. Halfway to our destination, the driver pulled the car over and went into a shop. After thirty seconds of assuming at least one of our kidneys was in serious danger, a lady got into the car and tried to sell us package deals to get off the island. Perhaps we should have heeded her subtle warning.
Once through that bit of mayhem, we found our actual cramped quarters at Box Poshtel in Old Town weren’t bad. We had a futuristic, sterile 8 x 8 foot cube to ourselves, complete with air conditioner and free wifi. We didn’t notice the cages of roosters in the back alley awaiting the next cock fight until later that night when they started making a hullabaloo. They certainly weren’t accepting their fates with quiet resolution.
We made the mistake of visiting the weekend night market. Sure, if we hadn’t, I would have felt like we missed out, but it was definitely not worth the effort of getting there. From sizable bars to tiny shops, everyone is eager to rip off tourists to make a quick baht. The best part? Tiffanie’s face after she had the pleasure of using an authentic Thai toilet. Seriously, guys, it made everything better and worse and better again.
With a “let’s get this place over with” attitude, we headed to our cube to get some rest before our excursion the next day.