Katathani Beach Resort
I awoke far too early for my liking, feeling like a ferrel mole, to the loud ringing next to my ear. My aunty was on the other end summoning us to chop chop on down for breakfast; the piglet in the extremely small size of my mother, insisted that my cousin Elena and I didn’t waste any time missing out on the all-you-can-eat buffet breakfast. Usually when we go to these places she eats my share, or what she deems an appropriate amount to get value for money; this generally leads me to calling her a gluttonous pig and relaying the definition of gluttony for the entire duration as she beams in delight. I have to say the balmy air and breathe taking views as the sun bounced off the crystal clear water, made me feel like I was in paradise, and nothing was going to put me in a bad mood.
The buffet breakfast was probably the best variety I have ever eaten, and I’m not a foodie, so providing interest takes a great deal; the fresh Guava juice available (green here, not pink like back home) would be savoured at every meal. The load on my uncle’s plate on the other hand, repulsed Elena. He announces that he can’t watch ‘The Biggest Loser’ at home and judge the contestants without actually experiencing what they go through; and breakfast was the perfect opportunity. This went on for the entire seven days, which lead to Elena wanting to stall and not eat in front of her parents out of embarrassment. There are two places you can eat the buffet breakfast, at ‘Cinnamon’ and ‘Tom Chalay’, I preferred, over the next seven days we were at the Katathani, to do breakfast at Cinnamon, while my sister preferred the latter.
On that morning, not long into breakfast, while we were enjoying our feast and my getting use to living like a bush pig instead of my highly groomed self (my straightened hair had already started its transition back into crazy curls); my uncle asks me how I was enjoying the weather, as I was raised in Queensland and used to the humidity. I marvelled on how I thought it to be perfect and it was no more humid than back home, only it was a slightly different humidity; it wasn’t until I glanced up from my plate that I saw beads of sweat dripping down his face, like my granny’s would in peak summer. He was not coping with it well. Lol.
After breakfast, my brother Robert, and Laura arrived; they didn’t stay at the Katathani, but at the Sugar Palm Hotel in Kata Beach, about a 15 min walk away. The lil turd booked their place as soon as she left the room so she couldn’t protest. It sounded kind of dodgy, which makes total sense coming from my brother and his reasoning’s for choosing this place; but it actually wasn’t. When she first showed us how far they had to walk—we cracked the shits at him—but there’s a short cut through our hotel and wasn’t so bad.
We wandered around the hotel and checked out the wedding venue, which made it even more exciting. There are multiple pools, and looking out onto the beach that is taken up by the entire resort, it feels like you could be anywhere and in your own secluded world; the Internet pictures don’t do it justice. The place was selected by recommendations from random strangers; we took at it as a sign as it occurred on several occasions. Most importantly, it was free from “Bogan Australians”, like the ultimate Bogan holiday destination that Bali has developed into; this is also why I have no desire to vacate there. There were actually a lot of Russians and Scandinavians at this time of year, a result of -35 in the motherland. Oh, and a lot of guys wearing budgie smugglers, the term alone invokes major smirking and often traumatising mental imagery. Don’t start daydreaming about the European eye candy now; I’m talking the kind from that Aerogard ad with the old man in red Speedos embarrassing his kid, not sexy tanned Europeans in ripped form, with abs that you could suck Jello shots off—if only. If he was wondering, I found his doppelganger at the Katathani working on his tan, lying in some weird yoga pose on the lounge chairs.
After a call to the insurance company about my luggage and what happens next, we bumped into Donnah who couldn’t understand why I was so calm. It turns out I’m covered to get some essential clothes, with my mother reminding me that by ‘essential’, does not include high heels or a cocktail dress by some overpriced designer; giving me that knowing look of: I know what’s going through your mind, don’t give me that “investment pieces” spiel. I actually already had in my mind from the beginning that I wouldn’t be shopping here at all. Either way, I seriously don’t understand how people will travel overseas without insurance. Laura, Robert, mum and I jumped in a taxi from the hotel to go the Jungceylon in Patong, it was recommended by people who frequent Thailand regularly, but, it turns out we had a super dodgy taxi driver who wouldn’t take us there and kept making excuses.
We ended up at Wang Talang Jewelry And Gift Shop Co where he conveniently gets commission on anything we buy. I did buy some nice Thai Silk, cheaper than back home, but not the price per metre I was expecting, and my brother a magic box. Lol. random, I know. We kept insisting on Patong and he kept resisting, and said he take us better places and kept shoving tour brochures down our throats; also kept saying he would wait at each stop. After another super dodgy place, we were like hell no! Some how we had ended up in Phuket Town and drove past Central Festival, which looked pleasing to us. According to him, it was too expensive, clearly one shouldn’t assume our level of tastes, this time we demanded. Not knowing what it was going to be like from all the other derelict places, we were pleasantly surprised. I caught a glimpse of two of my favourite high street Spanish labels side by side…. Eyes wide and bright, knowing I wouldn’t get very far hehe ;P
After a few hours we made it back to dinner at Cinnamon, and to the ever-glowing presence of my suitcase! :)