THE SPA CHRONICLES: Saying Goodbye, Yet Again

It is my last day on Samui and, thanks to last night’s drinking, I sleep fairly late, which isn’t a bad thing at all. My flight isn’t until early afternoon, so I don’t have to rush. The day is already stinking hot, but I drink my coffee outside anyway, knowing that I will be returning to work in rainy, cold, blah Cincinnati. I realize that I have yet to pay Aiman for the scooter rental. I message him about it, and he comes over to my place to collect the money…in his tiny underwear.  It's killing me. Once I stop staring, I also give him a few extra baht to arrange airport transport for me. After watching Aiman’s perfect, underwear-model ass leave, I do the last bits of packing that my drunk self couldn’t cope with last night, and head out for one last visit to the spa.

 It is not quite opening time for the spa yet, and I don’t have a key. This seems hilarious, even to me, but the sliding glass doors were installed after I left the last time, and frankly, I don’t need to carry a key around with me on tour. Mr. Long is inside when I arrive, so he lets me in. He is making his preparations to go home for Songkran. He is from a small, inland town, far from the sea, so he is busy packing a huge, polystyrene chest with ice and fresh fish for his family. I can’t imagine lugging a bucket of fish onto the ferry and then the bus, but this is life in Thailand and family at Songkran is a big deal.

Though Songkran is a lunar date on the calendar, it is actually a water festival, symbolic of cleansing and starting fresh. Buddha  statues everywhere have a bowl of water placed next to them so that you can pour water over them. This blessed water is sometimes collected and sprinkled on the shoulders of the elderly for luck, prosperity and health. People will also bless monks with water during this holiday.

In modern day, the water blessing custom has evolved into what is the world's biggest water fight. You can't go anywhere in Thailand during Songkran without getting completly, utterly, drenched. It is a joyful celebration of renewal and cleansing and everyone goes mental.

The end of our street during Songkran

Songkran madness

 

I have time to grab a little something to eat, knowing that the food options at Samui airport are virtually non-existent. I go to a splashy, modern place around the corner and have a delicious Spanish Potato Hash and some REAL coffee.

As I enjoy breakfast, I read the various international newspaper stories about the car bomb that went off two nights ago at the big mall, Central Festival, just down the street from us. 

Since the government in Thailand can, and does, censor media, the only true fact one can glean is that the bomb went off in a car in the parkade, and that no one was killed. Everything else is conjecture, media hype and political innuendo. When we heard about the bomb on that night, I was still at Pride Bar, so we all began to check our Twitter feed, the only reliable source of immediate information left in the world, to see what had happened. Who knows if we’ll ever really know the truth. Various factions will continue to point the finger, the government will pick and choose what information is shared, the police will continue to be corrupt and disorganized and it will drag on and on until it is long forgotten. Thailand, where it’s just easier to embrace the whole glorious mess. 

It is time for me head to the airport. I bid the boys at the spa farewell, and head back to my studio to drop off the scooter and pick up my luggage. I am woefully over dressed as I wait for my airport pick up, but I know that if I wear shorts and a T-shirt on the plane, I’ll be so cold that I’ll end up cryogenically preserved for future generations.

Samui airport is beautiful. The whole thing is open to the elements, and there are beautiful gardens, blossoming trees and water features everywhere. This means, though, that the only way for me to escape the heat in my long pants is to pretend to shop for the over-priced tourist crap in the gift stores. 

Eventually, it is time for me to board my flight and begin the endless (30-ish hours) flight away from paradise and back to reality. I am not happy about it.

In spite of how short, stressful, busy, complicated and completely un-holiday-like this trip was, I'm never happy to leave this place. But at least now, I feel more confident in the spa surviving in my absence, and even a sense of hope that I may now have a real idea about it's daily operations. 

But of course, the drama is on-going...

THE SPA CHRONICLES: D-Day

It takes me a long time to fall asleep on the night I decide to fire PP. My brain just won’t shut down. I am, on one hand, amazed at what a skilled con artist and liar he really is, and how brazen. It’s one thing to pocket a few Baht from a prosperous business, but we are new and anything but prosperous. There’s very little to steal. On the other hand, I am angry, not that he stole money from me, but that he mistreated the staff and, possibly, the customers. 

As all of these thoughts are rolling, endlessly, through my sleeplessness, I realize that I care more about the staff than I do about the actual spa. And I am particularly pissed that PP fired someone, without reason, saying that it was on my command. I can stomach a lot, but I can’t abide people being treated carelessly. I can only wonder what other things were done in my name that I have no knowledge of. 

Sleepless in Samui

Eventually, I manage to pour enough vodka onto my busy brain to slow it down enough for me to catch a little sleep. Still, the morning is not welcome. I know what is ahead of me and I am dreading it. I reason that it has to be done to save my business, to make an example, to vindicate those that were mistreated and a dozen other reasons. And yet, still, it’s not a task I relish. I remind myself that he fucked me over, and that’s enough for me to drag my ass out of bed. 

This morning, the hideous coffee is good for my mild hangover, and I also decide to visit one of the little places near the spa for English (Thai-style) breakfast. 

Breakfast options at the end of our street

Other breakfast options at the end of our street

By the time I am finished breakfast, the hour of doom is drawing near. 

In spite of the fact that Patrick is busy shopping for his menu at Pride Bar, he has very kindly agreed to meet me and act as translator so that PP understands exactly what’s happening. Patrick arrives at the spa and we all sit down in the reception area together. I explain to PP that his massage is awful, and give him the reasons why. I tell him that it does not make any sense financially for me to pay him to ‘manage’ the other two boys who know how to do massage, especially when he cannot speak English to the customers.  I also tell him that I have spoken with Mr. Nut and am very displeased with the way the situation was handled and that I think it demonstrates PP’s inexperience as a manager. I tell him that his services are no longer required and that he may pack his things and leave today, and that he may hand over to me any Sai Roong cash he has on hand. He says there is none.

 

I am ready for him to challenge me, to fight for his job, and I have a whole list of questions and inconsistencies ready to present to him. But he does not fight. He sits very quietly, eyes cast down, hugging a pillow. No matter how many times I prompt, he says he has nothing to say. So I draw the meeting to a close.

While I still have Patrick handy, we call Mr. Pat over to explain to him what’s happening. Pat is completely shocked. Speechless, but accepting. I silently wonder if Pat is on Team PP and if I need to keep an eye on him, or if he’s just oblivious to things.

Firing PP is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, and I hope I don’t ever have to do it again. I am a mess. I decide that I really need a drink to calm my nerves even though it is barely just noon. Since I am now obligated to spend the rest of the day at the spa, because Mr. Pat is the only staff working and he speaks no English, Patrick very kindly texts Peter at Pride Bar, which doesn’t open until 5:00,  and Peter appears with a beer for me.

Peter and I sit in front of Sai Roong for awhile, drinking beer and chatting. It is calming for me. I explain to him what’s happened and let him know that the new manager, Mr. Long, will be starting in a few days. Mr. Long was managing for Ajay, but was happy to come work for me and Ajay agreed. Unfortunately, it is Songkran, Thai New Year, a holiday that is meant to be spent with family. So, Mr. Long, like everyone else in Thailand, is going home for a few days. Until Mr. Long returns, Mr. Nut will act as manager. Not only is this a gesture on my part that will hopefully make up for him being wrongly dismissed, but Nut speaks enough English to deal with customers and knows how to up-sell.

Eventually, Peter goes to carry on with his day, and I am left with Mr. Pat. We sit in silence on a blistering hot day, nothing to say, no customers in sight. I begin to understand the mind-numbing boredom these guys must go through when there are no customers. And there are many days with no customers. Eventually, I can’t surf the internet anymore, or micro-arrange the furniture, or pace up and down the empty street. I explain to Pat, in bad Thai and sign language, that I’ll be back in one and a half hours. Pat looks terrified at the thought of being alone, but I sincerely doubt there will be any customers. 

I drive to a new-ish spa that Peter has told me about. He said he thought they’d done it up nicely and gave good massage. In the interest of getting a good massage while also checking out the competition, I get a one-hour aromatherapy massage from a very nice young guy, Thanna, who turns out to be the owner. His massage is spectacular. And, even better, I can just relax into it and drift away since I don’t have to assess his skills.

After the massage, I introduce myself and tell him that I own Sai Roong. He tells me he knows PP. I smile and remain vague, knowing that the island telegraph will very soon inform him that PP no longer works for me. He seems genuinely pleased when I tell him that I think is massage is fantastic, and he begs me to give him a good review on TripAdvisor. Business is bad for everyone on Samui these days, and every little bit helps. 

I return to Sai Roong a bit more relaxed. Mr. Pat tells me there has been no customers. It is now past 5:00, Pride Bar is open, and since I can’t leave Pat alone at the spa, I decide to spend the night at the bar. It is, conveniently, right next door, and it is my last night on Samui. I have accomplished a great deal in a short time, and I am going to allow myself to have one night of silly fun with all the various eccentric and colourful characters that pass through Pride Bar. 

I drink, I eat, I talk to strangers and acquaintances, I play a little pool, I flirt with the dancer boys from Starz Cabaret who have come to drink….I enjoy myself thoroughly for the first time since arriving on the island.

As I was not in the least interested in picture taking on this night, these pics are gleefully borrowed from Pride Bar's website and re-purposed here.

 Crazy Terry from Starz Cabaret and a galpal

By midnight, poor Mr. Pat has had only one customer, and a troublesome one at that, so much so that I end up giving the jerk a discount. I tell Pat to shut the place down for the night, which he does, gladly. And I head home, while I still can, to pack and organise for departure tomorrow.

THE SPA CHRONICLES: The Nut Cracks At Last

The jet lag is slowly wearing off. Instead of waking up at 5:00 a.m. I am now waking up closer to 8:00. I should have my body clock back on schedule by the time I have to leave. (insert scrinchy face)

On this morning, I simply can’t face the hideous instant coffee anymore. After one cup of that swill, I jump on my scooter and head to Fisherman’s Village in Bophut. This is a quaint, though very touristy area, packed with restaurants, tour operators and chachki shops. 

There is also a very good coffee shop, Karma Sutra, where I can curl up in a Thai-style day-bed, with a REAL cup of coffee, and either watch the shop keepers opening their stores, or read the local newspaper, or just gaze out to sea. 

My desperation for coffee becomes clear to me when I realize that I am drinking a latte, the world’s hottest beverage, in an open-air coffee shop where the outside temperature is already verging on 35 Celsius (91F). My face is flushed, my entire body is slick with sweat, and yet I continue to sip the sweet, seductive flavour of real coffee. It is worth every drop of moisture lost through my over-worked pores. 

I decide to extend my peaceful morning and take a brief walk down the narrow street.  I love the quiet at this hour, the stray dogs,  the tiny stores crammed with crap, the restaurants setting their tables out on the beach.

 Once a week, this narrow street is completely closed off to traffic and turned into a "walking street". Vendors put their tables out, restaurants add outdoor seating and the whole atmosphere becomes very genial and carnival-like. Each community on Samui has a walking street on a different night. One night Chaweng, one night Lamai, one night Fisherman's Village, etc.

I head back to my scooter, stopping to dip my toes in the ocean on the way. The air is so hot that the ocean feels like bathwater and offers no relief from the heat. No matter. There is shopping to do.

I make a stop at a little store just outside of Bophut to buy the boys some Thai fisherman's pants. I’ve wanted them in some kind of a uniform since the beginning, another thing that Ajay never got around to doing. The selection at this store is small, but the price is certainly right. I settle on a deep green and negotiate a price for 6 pairs. I can’t put together too many sentences in Thai, but I’m good with the numbers, and I usually get a discount just for the attempt at bartering in Thai. 

Next stop, HomePro for a few small items. I want every customer to receive a cool foot-wash while they decide what services they want, so I'll need a basin. Also, I’d like everyone to be served home-made, chilled, ginger tea on arrival, so I'll need a pitcher. As well, there are a few other small supplies that are needed. On my way out of the store, while trying to fit my purchases onto the scooter, I hear a monkey howling in the trees nearby and am reminded that I am on a tropical, jungle island. Reality creeps in at the strangest times.

Packing the car, island-style

Back at the spa, I unload my purchases and explain what everything is for and when and how they are to be used. PP decides to use me as the test case for the first foot wash before he gives me a massage. There’s something nice about having your feet bathed in cool water when you’re in a hot country. And the boys float orchid blossoms in the water, which I think is a lovely touch.

I opt for an aloe vera massage from PP. It is, well, terrible. Truly terrible. Possibly one of the worst massages I’ve ever had, and as a long time massage-whore,  I’ve had some pretty bad massages. He splashes the ice cold aloe vera onto my back, instead of putting it on his hands first. He is a tiny man, which is fine, but doesn’t know how to use his body weight to apply pressure, and his tiny hands have no strength either. His massage has no structure and he moves from body part to body part at random. It’s even possible that he pulled a muscle in my neck from twisting my arms awkwardly while I was lying on my stomach. I am less than impressed. Dumbfounded, even.

I take care of a few more administrative things, and chat with Ajay online about Mr. Nut.  Ajay promises that Nut will show up tonight. When I am finished, it is past cocktail hour, and I haven’t eaten much of anything all day. So, back to Pride Bar it is.

More drinks, more socializing, more avoiding Terry, and then, eternally optimistic as I am, I head off once again to Ajay’s spa to (hopefully) meet the elusive Mr. Nut. 

As I pull up to Ajay’s place, he is also just arriving. He tells me that he actually went in search of Mr. Nut, found him in a bar and dragged him out, demanding that he show up for the meeting. A very un-Thai-like move for Ajay, but an effective one. A few minutes later, Mr. Nut arrives. 

Mr. Nut is nervous, and clearly uncomfortable. I'm sure he feels like he's in front of a tribunal, so I tell him that I simply want to hear his story and give him a chance to defend himself. I let him know that Ajay is present to act as translator, so speaking in Thai is fine if it allows for more detail and/or comfort. The first move is mine, apologizing for the way Mr. Nut was ejected from the spa with no warning and no money.  I tell Nut all the things that PP told me about him and ask him to give his version of the story. It is, as one might expect, the complete opposite of PP’s version. I ask Ajay to translate very clearly, (by using not-polite Thai), if there is any truth to PP’s allegations of Nut having drugs at the spa, stressing, again, that drugs are unforgivable and that I asked PP to obtain proof before taking any action.  Nut is absolutely emphatic about never once, ever having had drugs at the spa, and insists that there's no possible way PP could have evidence to the contrary.  I look to Ajay for his take on it all since Nut has worked for Ajay and they know each other well. A quick nod from Ajay confirms that I should believe Mr. Nut’s story. And I do believe him. It is clear that he has suffered at the hands of the child-tyrant PP.

I offer Mr. Nut my thanks, and a few thousand Baht as an apology for the difficulty he went through trying to find a place to live, and I send him on his way. Ajay is looking at me, waiting for my thoughts. I tell him that I feel like I have to fire PP. Ajay agrees, and reminds me that it looks as though PP gets rid of anyone who either questions his authority, or knows too much about him. I have no actual proof that PP is stealing from me, but it’s pretty clear that there are many things that he’s hiding and/or lying about. 

I tell Ajay that I will fire PP in the morning. Ajay thinks it’s best and says that he will keep his phone turned off because he doesn’t want any calls from PP begging for work.  

I am too stressed out to return to Pride Bar. I go back to my apartment, pour a vodka from the freezer and slip into the pool to gaze at the stars. My head is spinning, my stomach is churning. I've never had to fire anyone before.