Day 8 – Almost But Not Quite


By some miracle, I managed to sleep past  6AM this morning. That was a victory in itself. But when I rolled over and saw sunshine sneaking in through our curtain I was ecstatic. I waited for Dani to wake up before I went downstairs to get breakfast for both of us. Because it was so early I wasn’t thinking of documentation when I headed out of my room, so when my coffee came out with this adorable wonky heart drawn on the foam in chocolate sauce, I was a little disappointed I couldn’t share that little morning pick-me-up with you all.

After breakfast the sun was still shining by some divine intervention, so Dani and I donned our swimmers and made our way to the beach. We were following the map on the back of our hotel’s business card, which was fairly comprehensive given that the card was about 1″ x 2″. We were three quarters of the way to the beach when we got stopped by a British guy. He was telling us about a party that would start at 8PM, weather permitting, down on the beach we were trying to find. I was actually kind of keen until I realised the guy was trying to sign us up for a wet t-shirt contest that would be part of the beach party. I backed up straight away. Don’t get me wrong, the guy wasn’t a creep or anything. I wasn’t scared for my life or that Dani and I would be raped. But he was a bit of a sleaze. Friendly enough, but yeah…a bit sleazy. Anyway, I generally try not to draw too much attention to my boobs. Actually, I tend to dress them down. My sister and I are relatively well-endowed in the chest area. Both of us have to buy bras in the E cup range (sorry to any of my male readers if this is getting uncomfortable). So I have to be careful with the kinds of tops I buy because I don’t want to come spilling out over the top. My very long-winded point being that, unless I were tragically plastered, I would never enter a wet t-shirt contest. Even though, according to the scratch card I was given, I would have won about $800AUD if I had entered.

I know that I was in a foreign country and no one knows me and all of that. But guys when they’re drunk + a wet t-shirt contest? No thank you!

I stood there awkwardly as the guy and his co-workers, who just appeared from a stall around the corner, tried to convince us to go for it. And then, like a bittersweet miracle, it began to rain. Dani and I made our escape amid yells of “are those real?” and ran as fast as we could without slipping back to Jungceylon.


Seeing as today was our last day, we decided to try one of the ice cream parlours that had been taunting us since our first trip to the shopping centre. We sat in our booth with our sundaes and watched the rain bucket down. It was a nightmare. Our last two days in Phuket and it was raining too hard to do anything. And why didn’t we go anywhere, I hear you asking in disgust? Because we both checked our traveller’s cards and realised that we each only had $40AUD left. Trust me, I would have rathered go to Tiger Kingdom and play with some baby tigers, but tickets + taxi fare + food = way more than either of us could afford. Instead we walked around Jungceylon, picking up some last minute souvenirs and exploring the craft markets below. I didn’t buy anything because, well, I’m cheap like that. But Dani made some pretty impressive bargain purchases and negotiated like a pro.

One and a half laps of Jungceylon and a quick Macca’s stop later and we were confined to the room. Again. Every time I caught myself looking out the window at the silver and charcoal sky I would think that maybe we could risk the trip. Maybe we’d get lucky and make it down to the beach and into the water before it started raining again. Seconds after this thought would cross my mind, millions of watery bullets fired at us from the clouds above. At least there were some decent movies on TV.

When we decided to get dinner hours later we figured we should pay our tab, given that we leave tomorrow morning at 7AM. It turned out to be a bit more than we thought it would be. I paid my half and turned to Dani who was looking at the receptionist’s calculator with an accusatory scowl.
“I don’t have that much in my account!” she said in a stage whisper.

I suppose I should clarify that our tab was sponsored by our Visa debit cards, not our traveller’s cards. Emergency money.

So, knowing I had just enough in my account to cover the tab and to be able to eat next week, I gave the woman my card to pay the other half. But the machine kept flashing “Duplicate?” at us each time we entered my card into its designated slot. I was terrified. I was making mental list of everyone I could call to get my card working before the lovely receptionist told me that an ATM would probably work. So I stormed out and went to find one.

I was not happy.

Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. But sometimes it just feels like the universe sees me as a person who likes spending money and budgeting to my last dollar; no matter how many times I try to show it otherwise. I got the money out, gave it to the poor woman behind the desk and stalked out towards the markets. Budget dining at its finest, and I was down to the change I had been given at the hotel and the few stray THB I had accumulated over the week. Dani followed meekly behind me. Once I could breathe without flaring my nostrils I could speak again. Which was helpful because Dani was convinced I was angry at her. I explained about five times that I was angry at the situation, not at her. It wasn’t her fault she didn’t have the money. Explaining myself had a calming effect on me. I was even smiling as we walked through the different stalls. A grin made a brief appearance across my lips when I scored an iced Thai coffee for less than $1AUD.

Back at the hotel is was dinner, reruns, and packing. God, I hate packing. It’s time-consuming, monotonous, and tense all at once. There was a bit of excitement when Dani couldn’t find her passport. Five minutes of suppressed hyperventilation and the damn thing turned up at the bottom of my suitcase. Not floating around with the clothes I hadn’t worn but underneath everything. Absolutely no idea how that happened. But at least we found it. A missing passport would have made the next day and a bit just a little…impossible.

About Bec Graham

Bec Graham, 24, was born on the wrong continent. Everything from her burns-like-paper skin tone to her inability to cope with the slightest hint of a hot day suggests she should have been born under the gloomy skies and mild sun of the UK. She hopes writing will get her to her rightful home one day. Failing that, she scans the skies for a spinning blue police box, hoping to catch a lift back to the motherland.
This entry was posted in All Thai'd Up, Events Between Non-Events. Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Day 8 – Almost But Not Quite

  1. Pingback: Day 9 – Singapore | My Infernal Imagination

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