Back in Bangkok

Mike & Carolyn drove down from Bangkok last Saturday to rescue us from our bohemian hell. Of course, that meant completing the ritual slaughter of a large fish and several dozen scallops plus various other edible sundries at a beach barbeque on Saturday night followed by a Sunday afternoon on the sands drinking Chang and reminiscing about people in dear departed C&E. Thus with heavy heart we paid our bill at the resort: a whopping £300-odd for the two of us for our little room (well, it was the cheapest they had but it had all the cons) and the occasional liquid lunch and evening meal over the seven nights we were there. We took a bottom-slamming speedboat ride back to the mainland, Linda squealing like a big kid, me hanging on for dear life.

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If anyone fancies an undemanding beach holiday that doesn’t involve living in high-rise megalithic hotels, screaming kids in ornate swimming pools, and rip-off bar and restaurant prices, then Koh Samet is a real find. Because it is also a national park, there is no overt development of the multi-national hotel-kind that you might find in the more famous Koh Samui: most of the resorts are of the bungaloid variety that are developed at ground level back into the forest. The admittedly modest strip of white sand is sometimes awash by the sea at times of highest tide so it precludes the regiments of sun parasols you find at similar beaches elsewhere. It was all very relaxed.

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By the end of it all, though, the ubiquitous Bangkok bacteria got me. I had already been suffering from a bit of the old gout in the elbow courtesy of the brilliant English sunshine. Halfway through the week the last knuckle on my little finger decided to expand to 17 times its normal size with the attendant mass of a small Jovian moon (from the pain and colour I assume it was tortured, volcanic, Io). “Gout!”, said an extremely attractive pharmacist on Samet after looking at it and stepping quickly away holding a protective chair. She quickly poured out a disparate collection of orange, white and lozenge-shaped tablets and instructed me in their use to which I understood not a word. Luckily, she wrote some words down which I checked out in a neaby internet café (thank god for the www and Netdoctor). So, now in addition to the Naprosyn and Co-Dydromol I brought with me, I have been swallowing Colchicine, Allopurinol, and Dycoflenac, all of which have made no difference whatsoever. Io is now changing colour and showing signs of increased volcanic activity. In addition to that, the pills have reduced my insides to the consistency of a watery soup so I’m also taking Immodium. I dropped into the pharmacy in the BioHouse building downstairs here in Bangkok who’s also given me a week’s worth of anti-biotics which do seem to be having an effect so I’ve ditched all the others and am now on standby by the apartment toilets writing this. Until next time . . .