Phuket, This Place is Weird
A tour of Thailand’s tourist-infested underbelly
The first thing that the Lonely Planet writes about Phuket, an island off the west coast of Thailand, is a friendly reminder that it is pronounced Pooket, not Fukit. The longer I stay here, though, the more Fukit seems appropriate. This island is a huge f*ck it to Thai culture, the environment and women. The peak awfulness of mass tourism.
I came here to study Muay Thai, or Thai kick-boxing, for three months, as part of a book project. I’ve rented a flat on Airbnb, a beautiful little room in the centre of the island, in a leafy condominium with a pool about half a kilometre long. Seriously, the pool runs the entire length of two of the buildings. I wake up in the morning, look out of the window and see a glistening blue street down below, lined with trees, and behind it all rolling hills covered in jungle. I spend my time in between classes writing out by the pool, swimming, or beach-hopping on my motorbike.
So of course, I’m not gonna say I hate Phuket, because it is impossible to dislike somewhere so sugar-coated. It’s just that the longer I’m here, the more sickly sweet it appears. It’s not that I don’t like it — it’s too easy to like, too plastic, like a boob job. Even if they look perfect, you know it’s all fake, and they feel like shit.
