Jan 2005 - Day 2

[Damen]

I boarded the plane to Phuket not knowing what I would encounter. Sure, I had watched the news, kept up with the daily reports on this board and even received emails from the manager of the hotel assuring me that it was safe to come. While they had sustained some damage, everything would be operational by my arrival but their restaurant. But what would I see? What would I smell? How would I feel?

 

As I stowed my carry-on and settled in my seat for the short flight from Bangkok to Phuket, I glanced around the plane. The older gentleman across the aisle from me stared somberly out the window. A few rows up there was a man trying to comfort a woman who was weeping. Were they are on their way to Phuket to look for loved ones who had gone missing in the Tsunami? They certainly didn?t look like travelers who were going to try and salvage a long planned vacation.

 

There had been many discussions on this board and others whether people should stay at home or continue with their plans. "You'll just be in the way" some said. "The people need all the help they can get" said others. "They only need qualified help such as doctors, nurses" some responded. I had looked into changing my destination, instead going to Koh Samui. Of course, hundreds of others had thought the same thing and quickly grabbed any available rooms on the island. "I can always go to Pattaya a few days earlier then planned" I thought to myself.

 

What ultimately changed my mind was what I witnessed on television that morning in Bangkok. Local merchants interviewed along Patong Beach wondered why the Western Media continued to show footage shot the day after the Tsunami with their live reports. Some of the footage being run wasn?t even of Thailand where the reports were originating from but of Banda Aceh.

 

I must have drifted off to sleep because the next thing I recall, we were getting ready for the decent into Phuket Airport. The man across the aisle still had his eyes fixed on the window. I don?t think he was looking at anything in particular. It was more like he was in some kind of trance. I suspect someone could have fell from the sky and landed on the wing and he wouldn?t have noticed. The woman who was crying earlier had slumped over into her partners seat. He remained stoic and held her tight while staring straight ahead.

 

As we landed, the warm glow of the day outside provided the perfect backdrop to the rows of never ending palm trees that border the runway. The plane was eerily quiet. There was none of the small chatter that you would normally hear as a plane taxis to it's assigned gate.

 

That somber, quiet atmosphere was quickly shattered when I stepped outside after claiming my bags. Hordes of people stood holding up signs. Only these signs didn?t have the names of arriving tourists such as Mr. and Mrs. Jones. Instead, these signs contained the names of media outlets, aid organizations and foreign embassies. I distinctly remember photo equipment. It seemed I had wondered into an outdoor photo convention by mistake. A number of people that scurried past had large zoom lenses, tripods and camera backpacks.

 

Someone shouted out to me "where are you going" and I replied to Patong Beach. "Come with me" he said as he hustled me out of the way. Normally I wouldn?t pay attention to anyone who asked me where I was going or if I needed a taxi but I was totally overwhelmed. I just wanted to get out of the way of the people who were there for a reason. People who were there to make a difference.

 

The man packed my bags into a van, wrote me a receipt of some sort and told me to get into the van. I climbed in and over a woman who had claimed the seat nearest the door and clearly had no intentions of moving to help ease the boarding process. Soon there were several other people who were entering the van. The only seats now available were in the very back row with no access. Being the youngest of the group. I gave up my window seat, climbed over the rear bench and fell into the open space. One of the guys on the rear bench followed suit and filled the space to my left. Our former seats were taken by the new arrivals; a big burly man, wearing shorts, an old tattered black tank top and looking somewhat disheveled. In between him and the woman seated near the entrance door sat a thick Thai woman.

 

The drive seemed to take forever and to make matters worse, there was no air conditioning. There was very little communication in the van, even between the passengers who seemed to be traveling together. Imagine traveling in an elevator with wheels?.The uncomfortable silence was broken when the large burly man, who was now sweating profusely, pulled out a phone clad in a yellow, heavy duty protective plastic and dialed a number. ?BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH!!!? he seemed to scream into the phone in his thick European accent. I noticed that he had made himself very comfortable, taking up approximately half of what once was the Thai girl?s seat. ?BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH? he continued, getting louder. The guys in front of me shifted in their seats as if to say with their body language, you are making us uncomfortable. After several minutes, one of them said ?enough already? hoping he would get the hint. After a few more minutes, one guy tapped him on the shoulder and said ?ENOUGH WITH THAT FUCKING PHONE OKAY!? It was hot, people had a lot on their minds and tempers were short.

 

We made several stops, dropping various passengers along the way. Fortunately the burly man was one of the first to go. As we entered the Patong Beach area, I started to notice areas that I had seen in pictures, on television and various travel related web sites. Beach Road looked like a ghost town.

 

The hotel staff was very happy to see me. I knew that it was late in the day for an arrival but I didn?t see a single soul in the lobby or adjacent pool area other than staff. After my bags were checked and the staff had said hello, they all returned to watching TV in the lobby as they probably were before I had arrived. The lady behind the desk checked me in and said they had the best room reserved for me. How many other guests do you have I asked? "I think four" she replied. Almost 200 rooms in the resort and only 5 guests.... I had to take her word on the other guests because I never saw them. I put my valuables in the safe and headed out to look around before the sun would set. I walked down to the beach and there were a handful of people mulling about. The beach was as clean as a whistle with the exception of a couple of toppled trees they had not fully excavated and some concrete pillars. Storefronts along beach road were being wrapped in green tarps and the only debris that was visible was sand and oddly enough, manikin body parts.

 

Behind the tarps worked people with any tools they seemed to have at their disposal. I met a few freelance journalists who were shooting footage in front of a hotel already being rebuilt. ?They are working non-stop. A bus load of workers come in the morning and they are quickly replaced by another when they leave for the day? While I was moved by their determination and resolve, I began to feel depressed. What happened to the lady behind the front desk of this hotel? What about the guests on the lower floors? Shit, what happened to the hotel itself? I have made a mistake by coming here I thought to myself. I am not prepared for this. Passing each empty bar, each empty restaurant and boarded up store on my way back to the hotel seemed to reinforce that thought.

 

?You like come inside bar and have drink? someone said. I looked up to see a bar that probably accommodated over 100 people during previous high seasons. It was completely empty. Yes, I think I need a drink. I sat down and listened to the girl who had ushered me in tell stories of the Tsunami in her limited English. An old timer walked passed with bandages on his leg and on head but with a bounce in his step as he went into the adjacent bar. The girl smiled and said ? we have to go on? or something to that effect. I felt a little better. I gave her 1000 baht and told her to keep the change.

 

To be continued??