Kamala Home Sweet Home

As the plane is making the finial approach to land on Phuket the turbulence if frightening, I am not concerned. I know from experience that when an airplane comes into a very hot area that the updraft from the atmosphere causes, creates a wall the plane must pass through. This happens whenever I fly into Vegas, Miami, and Palm Springs. But remember that less that a week ago this very runway was the scene of a fatal crash killing all on board. The passengers on my flight are fearful. The woman across the aisle is silently praying the man next to me is busy comforting his companion and the stewardess sitting facing me is biting her lip. She sees me notice her in her fear and quickly catches herself and smiles. The plane lands we are safe all on board begin to clap and cheer. As we dock and begin to unload everyone is laughing and excited. This is a vacation spot and a dream destination for most on board. I think back to my Vegas flights. If you have every flown into Vegas then maybe you can relate. The arriving flight is always full of joyful energy for the same reason the Phuket flight is, everyone is excited to get on with their vacation. The difference in the Vegas flights is the return; people on return Vegas flights are not all in particularly good moods, no need to wonder why. I am not happy, I am excited, but I have a splitting headache. I am hungry and a little nervous for the experience that waits. The sun is hot here much hotter than Bangkok. I can feel it burning my skin. I wonder what the GI’s in Vietnam used for sunscreen; I wonder what was the war budget for sunscreen. I jump into a taxi, the driver does not speak any English, I tell him Kamala Beach, Fantasea, as this is what I was instructed to do. He looks at me as if I am crazy and laughs. Not a chuckle but a full on laugh, I soon find out why, I am an American casually dressed but I see later that I am dressed very nice, I have 4 bags. When we arrive at Fantasea his amusement is instantly clear. This is an amusement park however it is deserted. There are no cars in the lot and no people in sight and it is hot very hot. The driver is pulling into the parking lot moving very slowly a snails pace. He does not know what to do. I tell him to stop of course he figures it out at some point and pulls over, I get out of the taxi and pay the agreed price and he drives away. I am left standing in an abandon parking lot with 4 bags and a policeman or security guard who appeared as I was exiting the taxi. There is an area with some benches and shade. I set up camp there and call the man who has been pre-arranged to pick me up at Fantasea upon my arrival; he does not answer the phone. I try again after a very short time and we connect. His English is good but he is difficult to understand over a cell connection and a thick accent. He tells me that he will not be picking me up but that he will send someone else. I am relaxed hot but relaxed. One thing about committed action is it gives me a sense of calm, nothing can happen except what will and I am ready. In 5 min a young man pulls up on a motor scooter stops and greets me by name, he sees my 4 bags and has no idea how we are going to manage. He suggests that we take four separate trips as we can only manage one bag at a time on the motor scooter, if that. Of course this is not an option. How can I leave 1st three then 2 then 1 of my bags in an empty parking lot? Without any alternate solution I step back and look at him, the policeman/security guard, and turn around to survey the scene. I notice that the Taxi Driver did not leave, he is waiting at the entrance of the parking lot approximately 200 yards away. The driver is smart or curios or both, either way he is waiting to see what going to happen with me. I raise my arm he drives over and we reload my bags into his taxi and we follow Sanon my pick-up to my new home for 5 weeks. The bungalow that Rhonda has provided me is perfect; it also comes with the use of her motor scooter! I open the windows as I do a small lizard scurries across the windowsill, I am in the tropics, no doubt. It is nice to be in her space, pictures of her and her loved ones, books, CD’s a boom box and a TV. Rhonda is a beautiful spirit. I do not know her well but we have always had a connection. I feel her spirit and I feel right at home. She has a guitar. So this is the first order of business, I pull it out of the case tune up and sit to play. I am happy I thought to bring along a set of strings, but for now I just play.