Finally well enough to make my way down Thaweewong Road, I hoped to experience the nightlife Phuket promised to offer. Well, nightlife not only found in Bangla Road. That night was one bad decision after another. If I could avoid flashing strobes that both pulled me into every club yet overwhelmed every fibre of my being; at least for one night, it would be appreciated.
Accessible from the hotel, and hugged by Patong beach, Thaweewong Road was meant to be the perfect way to make the most of my last night. Everyone promised me the night sky by the beach was spectacular. Apart from the occasional revving motorbike that drowned out tourist chatter as it sped by, it was meant to be perfect to reflect. After the year that was, I needed all the peace possible.
Unfortunately for me, the year that was, seemed to be continuing. As I exited the hotel, the street was bustling. Unsure of what was happening, I walked to the esplanade, hopeful for silence. Instead, I was greeted with more tourists and 2m squared food stands in perfect formation, creating a labyrinth of delicacies. The fragrant aromas of spice permeated the air as fried rice was made, combined with the pop sizzle of fried chicken being re-dipped in scalding oil drew me in. I started with the double fried chicken. Sinking my teeth into the crispy crumbed skin revealed the juicy flesh below. Devouring the piece, I contemplated more but knew my remaining ₿500 needed to stretch further than more chicken.
Walking away from the stalls and towards the shoreline, sparkles broke through the darkness. I watched people reverently kneel, place something into the water, bow their head, then push it to sea. What I assumed to be cultural habitude, was broken by couples standing back up, then occasionally kissing as the item disappeared in the distance.
“Krathong here! Get your Krathong.”
Krathong? Intrigued, I walked over to a table, viewing a wide array of decorative offerings, with pungent incense sticks included to bless the offering. Noticing a laminated sign, it read ‘removes bad energy from the year that passed’. I watched awestruck as a Krathong was made, beginning with a lightweight timber disc. Its rings elliptical, creating imperfect ridges between it and the soft fleshy pulp. Leaf by leaf, the offering was built. Purple orchids and marigolds adorned the top.
“You buy?”
“Oh, sure.”
I handed my ₿500, with nothing returned and told to choose. My eyes drawn to one where orchids were formed into birds, I picked it up. Two incense sticks were stuck in the centre, and I was motioned to the water. Waiting as the water lapped at my feet, another local pulled a lighter from his pocket, lighting my incense and candles. Hand on my chest signalling to wait, I prayed the new year ahead was not like the last; with each wave the offering sailed over would wash my pain away for a clean start to the year ahead.
INSTANT NOODLES 