So the airport experience on the way to Phuket involved extensive shopping (potentially the only activity we partook in more frequently than getting a massage and eating phad thai), which happens to be one of my mother’s happiest activities. I used this opportunity of her being in an extra good mood to manage her expectations and reiterate how crappy our hotel in Phuket was. You see, I wanted this birthday trip to be the best ever for her so I’d booked the most amazing hotel in Phuket. It was a very unique little hotel that a wealthy Thai architect had initially built to be his home and after many years had turned into a hotel. It was situated in the mountain cliffs overlooking the sea, was original Thai architecture and interior design and was absolutely beautiful. Like living in a classy rich man’s house by the sea. This, however, was a surprise for my momma and I had been telling her for the past few weeks that I was broke after booking the flights and that I’d basically booked us into a hostel full of drunken teenagers and lads on tour.
She was obviously freaking out big time but was trying to be polite and not let on too much. I mean I had organised this amazing birthday trip for her and she was obviously very appreciative. It was quite funny however to watch her try to diplomatically and politely offer different solutions that were of course immediately shut down by me. As you may now, diplomacy and subtly are not the first words that spring to mind when describing people from our neck of the woods but it was a valiant effort. Whenever she would subtly offer to book something herself, I would reply with something along the lines of “don’t worry momma, I’ve read rave reviews about the cleanliness of the communal showers” or “don’t worry, I will let you have the bottom bunk for most of the trip”. Apart from that I kept reiterating how we’d be on the beach all the time anyway, how it’s a new experience for her, how it goes with her new “Gap Ya” trousers and mentality, etc. I mean I am a consultant, I literally get paid to bulls**t for a living so I was very convincing.
Now as those of you who know her will know, sleeping in a confined and unhygienic space with a bunch of dirty, rowdy English plebs was certainly not my mother’s idea of a holiday so by the time we pulled up in front of the hotel she was literally pale from fear.
It was late at night when we arrived at the hotel and in the dark you couldn’t really appreciate the amazingness of it. The outside was not particularly fancy and the best part of its charm (the views) were not visible at night. My mum did feel an extreme sense of relief when she saw how lovely our bedroom was but I don’t think anything sunk in that first night as she would need a good night’s sleep to erase the horror she had felt leading up to those days (imagining god knows what…)
The next day however, boy oh boy did it sink in. I’ve never seen my mother on hallucinogenic drugs of any kind, but I imagine if she ever did any that it would look something like this. She was literally skipping around like a Disney princess talking with the animals, appreciating every flower…She fell absolutely in love with the place.
And she had a lot to be excited about, I mean the place was insane. Every morning we would have breakfast with a spectacular view of the ocean. And don’t even get me started on the breakfast, I mean they literally had anything your heart desired. Absolute heaven for a fatty like me who would eat a three course breakfast every morning- the fruit to start (I’m pretty sure every fruit that exists on planet earth was on offer)- then some mains – toast with more cheese than a French grocers, all the usual continental stuff- sausages, beans etc, but also all the other stuff like phad Thai, drunken noodles…and then there was still dessert; pastries, pancakes, waffles and the list goes on….I mean we are talking levels of gluttony that the Milosavljevic household had rarely experienced before (even with granny “make enough food to feed an army for every meal” Bosa as the head of the household). And even better they gave you normal sized plates so you could really stock up, not like in some hotels where they offer you a small plate so you have to do the walk of shame every time you want a second slice of toast (not that that ever stopped me).
And I know what you’re thinking, but my mother talking to animals is not even another typical “señorita Maja exaggeration”. That first morning as I was excitedly shoving as much food onto my plate as is physically possible, I walked back to our table only to find my mother having a deal and meaningful conversation with one of the local birds that had landed on our table. I couldn’t quite hear the bird responding but my mother seemed very engaged in the conversation and even laughed a few times. Clearly Thai birds have a good sense of humour.
Aside from the breakfast and the incredible view, we had multiple pools, direct access to an incredible beach, a spa and a plentiful supply of alcohol. I mean it doesn’t get much better than that.
Every morning as we walked down the path to our breakfast (most bits outside and filled with flora and fauna) she would make me take photos; of the hotel, of the views, of her, of me…and every day was a little bit like Groundhog Day because as we walked down the path the next day she would be so amazed, as if seeing it for the first time, that we would end up taking photos in exactly the same spots every day.
Needless to say my mother was in heaven, especially having received (in her mind) the world’s biggest upgrade on accommodation.
Breakfast (at least one part of it)
World’s smallest banana?
