Hullo dear friends and family.

 

It is a bit late, or somewhat too early, depending on which way you look at it. Our New Year is already two weeks old, but Chinese New Year is in two weeks time. So plum in the middle the sentiments are strong. We wish you a very Happy and Peace-filled New Year! Gong Xi Fa Cai.

It’s a time for looking back as well as forward so we say, thank you for all the love and support over the past year, and we look forward to another year of your emails. No matter that you think your news mundane - they are our life support system to you – our friends and family.

 

It has been a busy time for us as the new charter season began in November and continues through till mid April - but with promises of interesting and fun filled days with new friends and old, and the excitement of a brand new destination in the Andaman Islands for the month of February.

This is our second attempt at the Andamans as our last plans were thwarted by the tsunami two years ago. Hopefully this time we will get there and that the waiting will have been worth it all.

 

Our sail to Thailand from our Malaysian “home base” in Langkawi with Bernard was terrific, with beautiful sailing weather. It was our first trip in six months and we thoroughly enjoyed his company, lots of Parlay boat talk, sailing with wind in the right direction (for a change) and the right strength for most of our two week cruise. I, in particular had a holiday and could sit back and enjoy the wind in my hair with the two boys at the helm - a wonderful relaxing way to start the season. We took time stopping at our favourite islands down south and then heard that brother John and Di from the U.K. had booked into an hotel at Nai Harn in Phuket for a few days, so spread our wings and high-tailed it to spend a short time with them before they left. Oh how I miss family! Its precious times like these with the ones we love that give the days that extra glow. We had such fun sailing to the nearby island of Racha for the day, eating yummie food, snorkelling and swimming, laughing and re-living past times together and dreams of the future. It was so special.

Then always the sad good-byes and the feeling that it has never been enough. But that’s the way it has to be until the next time.

There followed turn-around back-to-back charters with families – the Gardners and the de Wets and their children, the four Canadians and in between….The Pilgrims. My dearest friend Kate’s three children, Mark, Lors (and Clint) and Cindy and friends, Michelle and Smally. All 8 of us crammed onto little Katrine and her sides almost burst with all the nonsense and the resounding of a week’s great get-together. Katy would have been so proud of our re-union and I know that her spirit soared with us.

 

Back in Thailand, we had a week to wait for our Indian visas in Phuket before heading back to Langkawi for the next charter, so while we loitered in Chalong Bay we had a few days in which we could attend to issues and catch our breath.

In so many ways the third-worldness of South East Asia is thoroughly enchanting and yet around every corner one gasps at the wonder of contrasting contradictions.

 

A nasty spot on Don’s leg has been a worry, so we decided one morning to take ourselves off to the Dermatologist at the local hospital in Phuket Town to have it seen to. We have been spoilt in Langkawi with the ease and freedom of movement in having a vehicle, but in Thailand we have the option of Roland the Rat’s expensive and unroadworthy hire car, Woody’s (also expensive but more reliable) taxi, or the local bus.

This morning we opted for our previously regular use of the “Songteuw” – a pickup truck whose 1 ton body has a line of bench seats down either side and one down the centre. It is specially built for the local population, who aren’t blessed with six foot, XL bodies and size 8 and13 feet but who are infinitely short and petite. We “Falangs” (foreigners) have many disadvantages. One climbs in bent double, which still results in roasties on one’s back from the badly hewn canopy, scuffle in and over any poor individual who happens to have claimed a seat near the back opening, catching on to packets of market produce both dead and alive, murmur our “Khaw thod” excuse me’s, manoeuvre into a butt-facing bench position and drop. I learnt early on not to wear a dress on any of our bus catching expeditions as ones knees are forced into the most unladylike positions redolent of childbirth. The bus is an open-air affair, the wooden caged slats and protrusions of which add to the discomfort by digging into ones back. The rolled up plastic side flaps (in case of rain), hang at an angle that blocks any passing view that Don and I may have, unless the body is contorted into a neck-cricking angle which cant be kept up for long.  But despite the discomfort, there are many advantages and each journey has its merits. This time we were lucky to be the first ones on at the “bus station”. The driver was having his breakfast at an open air restaurant where his songteuw was parked, while he waited for passengers to arrive. He offered us a share of his curried noodles which we kindly declined and then as it looked like we were the only takers he eventually drove us off at a snails pace for the 12 or so kilometres to Phuket Town, hooting and calling at anyone he thought might need a lift. We picked up a few passengers along the way, and towards the end of the journey an elderly gentleman requested a slight detour from the normal route. We realised the direction was towards our hospital destination, so Don “Khaw thod –ed” to the front of the bus and asked the driver through the front opening if we could possibly be dropped a little further on.

“Where you go?” we were asked in the usual only-english-phrase-known way. An interpreter took over and explained.

“No Problem, Papa.”  (Grandfather) the answer came; so without further ado and disregarding any of the other passengers who may have had a time schedule, off we popped on a four kilometre detour to the hospital. Such is the kindness of the Thais.

 

Once at the hospital it was as if we had been dropped off on another planet. We walked up the driveway passed a fountain of sculpted fish and water features to the automatic doors. As they glided open the first of a row of beautiful young Thai ladies immaculate in their grey suits and pale peach blouses stepped forward and asked what language we spoke. (we realised there were interpreters for all the main languages) She took us over to a row of computers where Don’s name and date of birth recorded that we had been to the hospital before (two years previous). An usher appeared (grey suit and peach shirt) to escort us up an escalator to the open planned first floor, passed the cardiac unit, the “Health and Well-being” unit, whatever that may be, and through the glass doors to the Dermatology department. By the time we arrived, Don’s file was on the desk in front of the receptionist (all ex-miss world beauties I’m sure) who showed us to relax in the reception area and presented us with a (sealed) plastic container of water. The room was beautiful, with the décor in the Chinese feng shui style….heavy wooden chairs, low lying coffee tables and picture books to match, Chinese flower arrangements and artefacts, concealed lighting and pastel colours….the spiritual forces were almost tangible. Within a few minutes Don was in to the doctor’s room, and the little Chinese lady had looked at the cyst, removed it and sent it off to the laboratory. (Don remarked that he hoped she didn’t have to say the word laboratory too often – an almost impossibility as the l’s and r’s are transposed!) And the cost? A fraction of what we would have paid in South Africa and the time factor even less. We were out within the hour, stitches in situe and medication in hand from walking in through the hospital doors.

“Just like Edendale!” Don remarked.

 

The Thais did leave us with a nasty taste in our mouths though. On checking out of the country, Customs and Immigration once again endeared themselves by demanding bribes which sent me into a spin and resulted in a row. But they got their own back, and our overnighter back “home” had us hanging on in rough weather through the night, gusts of thirty knots that came from everywhere, ships and fishing boats and unlit barges and through it all, food poisoning that kept us “on the run”.

 

Exhausted and ill, we dropped our reefed in main and motored in to Telaga and behind our little island. And there were our friends…Frank to help us pick up our mooring, dinner prepared by Robin and Yan and Francoise and Cath hanging on to the side of Katrine in their dinghy to welcome us back. Home at last. We heaved a happy sigh…. and slept for two days.

 

Take care our dear friends and family. You have our love as we prepare for our “Passage to India.”

 

 

Don and Jeanne