November 24, 2006

Searching for an American Thanksgiving in Phuket
by Lois Joy

Just thought I’d tell you about our Thanksgiving Day here in Phuket, Thailand. As I recall, this was only the second Thanksgiving since we began our circumnavigation when we did not celebrate it in the States. The first was during our Voyage 1, somewhere on the way from Canet, France, to St. Lucia in the Caribbean.

We spent most of the day attending to Pacific Bliss, our mistress. What else is new? It was just another day here, so the woodworkers were here bright and early as usual, sanding and varnishing, the sixth coat, only one more to go today. Tomorrow, we can clean up the mess. Peter, the local electronics expert, a Brit whose own yacht got holed during the tsunami two years ago, was here part of the afternoon working with Gunter on getting our original installed GPS to talk with the ship and all of the electronics to talk to each other with and without our laptops plugged into the circuit. It has been an ongoing, frustrating problem. By late afternoon, I had cabin fever and was very eager to get off the boat for a change. I’ve been supervising the teak varnishing and oiling project for a week now, never even leaving the marina. After all, it was Thanksgiving!

I changed to my nicest sundress, and even curled and sprayed my hair. As we walked down the long “A” dock to our rented car, it began to rain. By the time we were a few miles away from the marina, just guessing the whereabouts of the Marriot Hotel, the storm hit with force: thunder, lightning and a driving rain.

“I can’t see a thing. I’d rather be back on the boat,” said Gunter. “Anyway, I don’t like turkey; it’s too dry.” I was so disappointed. I hadn’t been shopping for a week, and with all the sanding and varnishing, the boat was in no shape to whip up a nice dinner.

“Lets just pull over and wait it out,” I pleaded.

“Could take an hour,” Gunter grumped.

Fortunately, the rain eased and we were able to make our way through the pitch black and puddles on the long, narrow road that skirts the airport, the one Gunter’s taxi driver called a shortcut. The entry sign had said “Temporarily No Access” but we’d gone through anyway. When we finally got out of the shortcut, we found we’d gone in a circle and were back near the entrance toYacht Haven!

“I think this is the direction we’re supposed to go,” said Gunter.

“Must be. The cruiser at the marina said it’s only a short ways up the road. We’ve now been driving for 35 minutes.”

Seven minutes after passing by the marina, we came to the Marriot sign. Civilization! A wide imposing entrance. Valet parking. An infinity pool with a view stretching all the way out to the Andaman Sea. Rich Thai décor. Intricate wood statues and carvings. The rain had completely stopped. Golden lights reflected from placid waters and fountains in yet another pool. The facility had three restaurants. Gunter spotted a “Thanksgiving Buffet” sign. We followed it. Soon, we were engulfed by the enticing aroma of pecans being sautéed in butter and cinnamon.

“I’m suddenly hungry, for turkey and everything,” said Gunter. “Even white meat.”

“So am I. And so happy that we found this. There is a Thanksgiving Dinner on this island after all! You know, there were no advertisements in the Phuket Gazette and no one seemed to know for sure.”

“I figured the Marriott was our best bet. It’s an American chain, right?” Gunter had that pleased-and-proud look.

“Do you have reservations?” asked the beautifully gowned Thai hostess with a concerned half-smile.

“No,” I frowned.

“We are all booked but I will try to find you something.” My heart sank.

She handed us over to a petite, dark-eyed waitress with shoulder-length ebony-hair. She flashed that big Thai smile as she led us to a poolside table for two overlooking those golden fountains. The table had a RESERVED sign with the name of the guests neatly printed in black. “These people didn’t come,’ she said as she whisked away the folded cardboard.

The bus boy immediately appeared to place a crisp, white napkin onto my lap. “Would you like the wine buffet or should I send over the wine steward?” he asked, in perfect English. “This is more like it,” I thought. We had arrived!

The buffet was exotic and overwhelming: a mix of American, International and Eastern dishes. It went on and on: About 20 different salads. A fresh oyster bar. Mussels, clams and sushi. Butternut squash soup made with maple syrup. Corn bread. Twice baked potatoes. Au gratin potatoes. Beans with almonds. And okra with tomatoes, a dish that must have originated in the Louisiana bayou. Two turkeys were being carved, but missing the wings and drumsticks. ( I prefer dark meat, but even the breast meat was moist and tender.) There was no turkey dressing, no gravy and no corn casserole. Not that we were lacking in choices. Dessert was to die for: pecan pie, sweet potato pie (no pumpkin), “American” apple pie, mousse, hot brownies with fudge sauce, and an ice cream bar where one could order a banana split after all that food! I settled for one scoop of vanilla ice cream on top of two small wedges of apple and sweet potato pie.

We sat at that intimate table for two hours, trying hard to pace ourselves. It’s not like at home, when one can eat the dessert at a second seating! We went back to Bliss miserably full, like it has to be once a year. Today, we fast. (I had only coffee for breakfast.) We’ll live off our memories of a unique and satisfying Thanksgiving.