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We've got a new home, a bungalow at the Print Kamala Resort in Kamala Beach, Phuket. It's our first time in Phuket and we have found ourselves a nice, small hotel with a great big swimming pool. We think we are the only guests which suits us just fine; we haven't seen anybody else at breakfast or in the pool. They are still working on rebuilding after the tsunami, so they can't take big groups yet.

The pool is among the nicest we've ever had. Not the largest, i.e. like the Olympic sized 50 m pool in Panama City, but very, very attractively designed. Very approximately it consists of three intesecting oval rings, forming a chain. Down the center the long-way one can swim about 40-45 m; across at the widest point it is less than 10 m. Each of the three rings is different. The westernmost oval, i.e. the one closest to the sea, is shallow, about 80 cm, very good for kids to play in. The middle and largest oval is 1.5 m deep and the closest to a plain pool, except that on one side there are two masonry elephants spouting water from their trunks; the water goes into a small pool and then cascades into the central oval pool. On the opposite side is the pool bar with a half-dozen in-pool bar stools. The boundary or edges of the easternmost oval is a triplet of steps, each about 50 cm high, suitable for sitting on. In the base of the upper step and along the walls are water jets so this pool is like a giant Jacuzzi. The entire pool is covered in attractive turquoise tile squares. The bottom has four or five large butterflies depicted in green and blue tiles.

There are two types of buildings: bungalows and large blocks. Each bungalow has two suites in it with a bedroom, living room, bath, and a covered deck. That's what we are in and it's very confortable for us. There are a few drawbacks. The aircon is only in the bedroom; the living room has just a ceiling fan. And the living room sofa is rather uncomfortable for watching TV; we have to take our bed pillows and use them as cushions.

There are two large blocks of rooms, each three stories high. One seems to have 27 rooms and the other 24 rooms. None are occupied now and lots of construction work is going on, which gives us a chance to see how Thais do things. For example, we saw large square dark wood blocks carried in; they are the undersides of beds. In every room there will be an internet connection, just as we have been surmising is the wave of the future. It may be that these accommodations are entirely new or that they were badly damaged by the tsunami. If the latter is true it is hard to understand why the bungalows were not hit even worse, as they are all at the same level as the lowest floor of the blocks. Another argument for the blocks being new is that they aren't mentioned in Lonely Planet's 2004 entry. The work on them, undoubtedly planned for completion well before the big winter season, shows that at the least this hotel expects tourism to recover to its pre-tsunami level and increase even more.

As interesting as the Print Kamala Resort is how we got here. Our desire and plan was to make multiple stops on our overland journey from Bangkok to Bali. The obvious and necessary first step was to go to Ranong in order to cross the border to Burma and thereby renew our visas when we re-entered Thailand. The next obvious stop was Phuket or Krabi. At first we were just going to go to Krabi because we'd heard it was nicer and on top of that the quality/price ratio was better. But unwilling to leave "important" things out we decided in Ranong on a few days at Phuket. On the internet we found a good deal at the Kamala Beach Hotel (almost within sight of the Print Kamala Resort). There it said that if you paid for five days you got two more free. So in a decisive moment (or is it over-all indecision?) we booked for seven days. (Work expands to fill the time available and so, apparently do our stays.)

The hitch was that on this web site, which we'd used to book in Bangkok, one doesn't get an instant response — it can take up to 48 hours. The next day, Saturday, it rained and rained and rained. and we didn't want to go out to the internet to find out if our reservation had been accepted. We were sure it would be because all indications were that Kamala Beach and most of Phuket was nearly empty. (We also thought to ourselves how lucky we were that we went across the channel to Burma on the long-tail boat on Friday and not in this horrible weather.)

Sunday we had a choice: just depart for Phuket or first go to the internet to see if we had confirmed reservations. The first being rather inconvenient — involving a one kilometer walk into town — we elected for the second although that wasn't particularly convenient either. We thought the bus to Phuket would pass just in front of our hotel but we couldn't get confirmation that it would or that it would stop. So instead we decided to go to the bus station. That had its draw backs too, because three days earlier on arrival into Ranong our Bangkok-Ranong bus had passed through a deserted bus station and then let us off in the middle of town at the bus company offices. Did buses to Phuket start or pass through the station? Nobody could understand our question let alone give us the answer.

Before breakfast Gerry went over to the station without bags. There was nobody in the office or anybody else official around; only a food vendor and there was no communication. Back came Gerry to the hotel and suggested we skip breakfast and wait in front of the hotel for what might be the 8:30 bus. We did that but we were hardly on the highway when the first drops of rain came. We knew what that meant: shortly there would be enormous amounts of rain. In going to the bus station Gerry had observed a bus shelter up the road in the direction of the station. Rather than going back into the hotel we went over to the shelter. Sure enough, we were shortly joined by a tremendous downpour — and by two motorbikes accompanied by their drivers who also wanted out of the rain.

In an hour wait the rain came and went. And the bus did not come. When the sky indicated there would be a long lull in the rain we set off to trundle our four bags the rest of the way to the station. To our pleasure the rain held off. As we approached the station we saw a bus parked on the highway in front of the station. When we got there we learned that it was a bus to Krabi, but the conductor assured us it was easy to change to a Phuket bus halfway to Krabi; if we'd been waiting inside the station we might never have known about the bus. We bought tickets and got on and were rather happy with ourselves. However the announced 10:00 departure time came and went and there was no departure. At 10:30 a bus arrived from farther north, probably Chumphon, and stopped next to our bus. We, everybody, and all the luggage, were transfered to the newly arrived bus; our "bus" had been a bus station on wheels that served to keep us out of the rain.

As our bus conductress had told us, we had to change at Takua Pa, about 2/3 of the way there. We did that, changing from a modern, aircon bus with sealed windows to a rather older, open windowed bus. In the few moments between our arrival and departure we managed to buy some boiled rice and bottled water and a whole pineapple. This complemented the cookies that had served as a substitute for our missed breakfast.

Phuket is an island and a big one by Thai standards, about 50 km north to south and averaging about 15 km in width, east to west. There are perhaps a dozen large bays with major tourist infrastructure. We had to get to Kamala bay, on the southwest of Phuket Island. The map we had made it obvious that we should get off the bus at Thalang, about 20 km north of Phuket Town and find a songtheaw or taxi to take us to Kamala. That trip would be shorter by a considerable amount than going on to Phuket Town.

Unfortunately logic did not make sense. Whereas almost everywhere in Thailand is extremely well served with songtheaws little old highway 4030 had not a one. Asking the locals if there was one didn't make one appear. Asking a traffic policeman if there was one didn't make one appear. Adding considerably to our distress was the news we learned from the internet cafe that we found where we were searching for a songtheaw: Our reservation at the Kamala Beach had been rejected! We couldn't believe it. But it was true.

After searching the web more and making several attempts to make reservations over the web and all failing we decided on a phone reservation. We picked three places out of Lonely Planet and telephoned. The first was a wrong number. The second didn't even answer. The third was the Print Kamala Resort and we struck a bargain over the phone, paying 1800 B a night whereas the reservation that we didn't have would have cost 1000 B a night. (Internet prices really are better, at least in Thailand.) But we were happy because we had a place to sleep.

Or at least we would have been happy if we had had transportation to where we had a place to sleep. We decided to accept reality: if you can't get there from here go someplace else. So we went back the few blocks to the highway to Phuket Town, where we had gotten off the bus, and caught a bus very similar to the open window, "local" bus we'd arrived on and intending to go to the next main intersection, about 6 km farther along. We of course had the problem of knowing where to get off! We managed it, but just because Jan saw in the middle of the highway the "Heroines Monument" From here a highway also led to Kamala beach, but it seemed really stupid to have to come here because we were now farther away than we had been in Tha Lang. But, as instructed, we crossed the road and waited for a songtheaw.

And now our story ends happily: In just a few minutes instead of a songtheaw a smaller vehicle, often called a tuk-tuk came along. This was our introduction to a system that may be special to Phuket or southern Thailand. While these vehicles look a bit like common-carier songtheaws and do have a row of seats behind them they act like taxis. One makes a deal and is carried to an agreed destination. The driver was happy to strike a deal, but not to come as far down in price as we naively believed he should, and take us to the door of the Print Kamala. We set off.

We got there. Or sort of. At the end, none of us knowing exactly where the Print Kamala was, the driver pulled out his mobile phone — we're very happy that Thais all have them — and got the directions for the last kilometer. That still wasn't enough. We were driving right by when Jan's sharp eyes caught the hard to read sign. Off we got, unloaded we were, and then we checked in and relaxed.

We've been at the Print Kamala Resort long enough to have a daily routine. We generally wake up before 7:00 and by then are listening to the BBC World Service. When we've caught up on the news we get out of bed and head for the pool, which is about 30 meters away. So far we've had the pool to ourselves. There we swim until we've met our goal or are pretty tired; the two sort of amount to the same thing. (On arriving in Thailand a month ago we had hardly been in a pool for more than 18 months. We've gradually built up our endurance from just over 100 m to nearly 1000 m.)

When we finish we get ready for breakfast; by the time we're there it will be something between 9:00 and 10:00. Theoretically there should be a buffet breakfast but there are too few guests in the hotel to justify it so they just give up whatever we want. For Gerry that is (in the order usually served), plain toast, a mushroom omlete with bacon, saugage, and ham on the side, French toast, and a fruit plate. Jan started with this but found it too much and has cut back to about half of it. Gerry gets orange juice, milk, and water; Jan gets juice, water, and hot water to make her own decaf. During and after breakfast Gerry reads the Bangkok Post and Jan reads the paper and/or her Russian novel.

After breakfast it's back to the room where we read and work with our computers. Jan continues on her Russian; she finished an anthology of Soviet literature that she found in a dingy second-hand bookstore in Athens and now, even more surprising, has gone on to a Sidney Sheldon novel translated to Russian, found here at the Print Kamala among the small pile of books below the newspaper rack. Even though it's just a translation and a translation of a trashy novel, it's still a precious resource for Jan as her library of unread Russian books is dwindling; she only has three left (four if you count the Sheldon). She's also been reading an epic novel in English, "Brazil". Gerry has started and finished "Rose" by Martin Cruz Smith and has gone on to "The Key to Rebecca" by Ken Follett. What we read is almost entirely determined by what we find in second-hand book stores and hotel exchanges. We acquired these in Greece and Turkey.

Our computer work can broadly be classified as "getting up to date." Jan is reconstructing our accounts and diary; that is pretty much done now. Gerry has been installing programs and recreating his data files; a large part of that is getting rid of duplicates that crept in from using several inconsistent backups. That is done too. He now has to sort and manage the June photos.

By late afternoon we're hungry and that is where the variation in our day begins. About half the time we've had an afternoon swim. Twice we've gone out to find meals in other restaurants; once we've eaten in our hotel, and twice we've made do with the food in our room, which is bananas, bread, and a bit of other fruit. There's not much to see around here and we think we've seen all that is interesting in the walks taken before or after eating outside.

In the early evening we usually read more and compute more. But then on comes the TV. We get pretty good coverage of Wimbeldon and Jan is a devoted fan of tennis, so watches all that is available. Gerry watches about 1/3 of it. We both watch all the international news we can get. Here that includes DW TV (German origin in English and German), NTK (Japanese origin in English and Japanese), and TV5Monde (French origin in French. We could be watching the Tour de France but it is not on at the hours we watch.). We get HBO with movies in English as well as Star TV with English language movies with Malay subtitles. Besides this bit of Malay we get plenty of commercials in Malay. That should give us a step up on our next country.

Kamala

Today is the first anniversary of the 2005 London transport bombings. The extensive coverage on TV reminds us of the horror and the fact that although we were in the vicinity we escaped involvement. We had taken an overnight bus from Darlington, getting to London about 6:00. Only because we couldn't find a suitable restaurant open at the hour for breakfast did we go directly to Heathrow airport. If we had eaten first then at the minimum we would have been caught in the chaos that came three hours later. At the worst we would have suffered injury ourselves.

In the evening we watched a documentary that traced as far as known (which is in fact almost everything) the planning and aftermath of the bombing. We learned a lot. Much of the documentary consisted of interviews of victims: One man was sitting three feet from a Tube bomber and survived, though with terrible burns. A woman was on the lower level of the bus that was bombed; the blast dropped the upper level on her, fracturing her neck, and nearly enclosing her, very tightly, in debris.

Being a year since the bombing, it is also a year since we left Britain. That day we flew via Zurich to Moscow. Two months there began Jan's serious study of Russian that continues. In one of the "if only" of lives, we think "if only" she had understood Russian then like she does now how different our experience would have been. After Russia we returned to England for a weekend and then were off to Greece. We spent more than half of our year there: just under seven months. Enough time to learn Greek? In theory yes, but in practice Gerry made just mediocre progress and Jan ignored Greek in favor of Russian. Nearly two months in Turkey came next. Their use of a near-latin alphabet made everything seem more accessible, although in fact it really wasn't. The last of our last twelve months has been here in Thailand.

Turkey and Thailand represent returns to places we've been before. This had happened before only for Paris. In all three cases it was a novel experience to arrive somewhere and have something of an idea how things work and how to get around. Now, as we look ahead, it seems that this sort of novelty will occur less and less. Yes, Indonesia will be new. But that will last just two months (or maybe three with an exit to get a renewed visa). Australia has to feel somewhat familiar and New Zealand will be a return to a place we really have been to (and liked very much) in 1983. In an undefined future we will certainly go back to Russia, Ukraine, and Germany as well as Mexico. There are of course large parts of the world that we still haven't seen, but those will probably be a small fraction of future travels.

We've been in the Print Kamala Resort long enough to experience a change of shifts. We interact mostly with the staff at breakfast. While in theory we are entitled to a buffet breakfast there are not in fact enough people in the hotel to justify one. We think that for several days we were the only ocupants of the hotel. In very expensive resorts one of the benefits of the high price is that almost all of the staff speak good English. In our nice but lower cost hotel the English level of the reception is barely adequate and that of the restaurant serving staff even lower. So it took us two days to get some clarity on what we wanted for breakfast. On Friday morning we found that our "hard work" had gone out of the window. The "weekend" staff brought things other than what we expected and in a different order than we had come to expect. But it wasn't all bad — Jan discovered she could get hot milk as well as hot water for her decaf.

We've just learned the origin or meaning of the "print" in "Print Kamala Resort". It had seemed to us a strange name. One guess was that it was a misspelling of "prince" but that was unlikely and wrong. Another was that, like Japanese do, an English word was being used without any true understanding or even care about true meaning. That was also wrong. But in fact the explanation is simple: "print" is a false cognate. The name in Thai of the daughter of the hotel owner is "Print" which was explained to us as meaning something like "is like her father". Anyone who knows Thai well and can confirm or deny, please let us know.

Kamala