A Swede, a Ladyboy, and Staphylococcus

After our final dive, we had a much more pleasant return journey on the Colona than the ride out on the speedboat had been. After we dropped Jeff off at the airport and some people off at their posh hotels, for example Jeff and Catherine had been staying at the Hilton, so Catherine was dropped there, we were dropped at our budget guesthouse. “Oh well, back to being backpackers, no more luxury” I said as we left and everyone wished me the best with my now very swollen toes. Back in the room I felt like I should shower to get the wounds clean, but when I came out I was in real agony. I couldn't even stand up. Joanne told me she had just been reading that you should not use hot water on swollen feet. I could not handle the pain, which was not subsiding. I thought I should maybe go to the doctor, although this seemed a bit of an over-reaction to a few abrasions, until I noticed that I was feeling a bit hotter than the room temperature merited. Thinking that this was a sign I may have some sort of infection I decided I really did have to go to the doctor.

I fought through the pain to get to my throbbing feet. I'm not being over-dramatic here: at the time it really was the most painful thing I could remember. Joanne supported me as I hobbled to the same doctor who had given me the all-clear to dive a few days previously. “The abrasions are infected with Staphylococcus” from the tropical water. I noted that he did not say “flesh eating” at any point, but he did agree it was serious if it was not treated with antibiotics. He did not seem overly concerned though, since that's exactly what he was prescribing me: antibiotics and antibiotic cream. My feet were so sore, and our plan was to leave the next day to go to Ko Phangan for the “world famous Full Moon Party” the day after that. I wasn't sure we would make it. I didn't even know if I'd be able to get to the bus, but decided to leave the decision until the next morning when I would have an idea how the treatment was working.

Back at our guesthouse there were a couple of guys, one Swedish one English, sitting outside drinking Hong Thong, a very cheap Thai “whisky” I had not yet tried. There are apparently a lot of Swedes in Phuket. They invited us to sit at their table and offered us some of their drink. It actually wasn't too bad, but the Swede was a true believer, an evangelist. He had clearly had a few already. He told us that he was being allowed to stay for free as long as he entertained people. He had a job in a nightclub which seemed to consist mostly of entertaining people. I got the impression his job was to get drunk and get other people pissed on cheap whisky, probably bought on expenses, and then take them along to the nightclub. Probably a nice job for about a week, but he had been doing it for several months. He had tale after tale of woe and I couldn't help think that Hong Thong might be playing a part: he had been swimming one day and he'd had his wallet, credit cards, and motorbike keys stolen from his clothes, but to make matter worse he had still done nothing about any of, except buy a new wallet. His bike was sitting unused and he still had no credit cards. His final crowning tale of disaster was that a few days previously (it was actually the day before we went diving – I had heard him telling some of the story to someone else the next morning) he had taken a gorgeous girl home only to discover there that she was in fact a man. “You're not gay if you didn't know, right?” he kept asking. What I don't understand is how you can live for months in Phuket, which is infamous for ladyboys, and still not be on guard if it's not your cup of tea. They were intent on buying another bottle of hong Thong and heading off to his club, so we made our excuses and hobbled up to bed.

written by

The Happy Couple on May 7, 2009 from Ban Karon, Thailand

from the travel blog: Michael's Round-the-World honeymoon

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