My great-grand aunt Bert traveled to Siam in the 1870s on her father’s clipper ship. Elephant tusks from Laos and opium for China were the Flying Sky’s cargo. I met her a few times in the 1960s. Her house was a boy’s delight.

Whale teeth shark jaws, harpoons, hookahs, and oddities from the Orient. She lived to 103 and National Geographic wrote a story about her exploits.

My Aunt Marion came to Bangkok in the 1950s with a nursing mission. She took photos of the Silom trams. Her travels inspred my peregrinations although my brother insists that my wandering the world stems from never having a dog.

I joke with my wife that my family came to Bangkok before hers. She doesn’t think it’s funny. Thais have no sense of humor about any farang having it over them and my wife says, “Thailand not same then. Not same now.”

She’s right, then again women are always right and never more right than when they’re wrong.

Thailand has changed dramatically since my arrival in 1990.

Back then Koh Phi Phi was an exotic distant island. Bangkok had only a few skyscrapers and two shopping malls. Koh Samui was mostly a coconut plantation and you could see Doi Suthep from the moat in downtown Chiang Mai.

Now none of it’s the same but Phuket has suffered the worst.

Back in the 90s Patong Beach had fisherman and you could drink beer with the locals until the morning. Food was wrapped in banana leaves. The sea had more fish than plastic bags. No fast food outlets existed within 400 kilometers and the only fat farangs were Germans sex tourists. You could even smoke reefer on the beach. I thought it was paradise, despite the old-timers on the Andaman Sea complained Phuket was ruined for good.

They never dreamed how bad it could get; budget tourists, retirement villas, pseudo-luxury condos, acclaimed hotel chains, and plastic bags strew everywhere. After the 2004 big wave the Thai authorities announced a new program to revitalize the resort.

The result.

No more wooden sunning chairs.

They had to be plastic.

And the umbrellas have to be uniform in size.

Conservation efforts were zero, but Thais aren’t too concerned with the environment. Like the fat western tourists they only care about themselves and the present. Live fast and die young seems to be the motto of the consumer class, except fat people live to be really old these days and after they’re 300 pounds and 40 their speed is regulated by how fast they can waddle to the nearest Mickie Ds.

The worst of Phuket is its price; expensive, hospitality of the locals; something akin to the Ferenghi on Star Trek (First law of acquisition – screw the farangs. Second law – screw the Thais.) and the endless greed of developers building those awful bungalows (Anyone care for sardine living).

Paradise trashed, but not all of it. Most tourism and hassles are centered on Patong. The other side of the island remains beautiful. To save it the Thailand tourist authority has announced that  a cap on visitors to Phuket at 5,000,000 per year. Doing the math that means about 30,000 per day. And the TTA only wants rich tourists since they care more likely to not create as much trash as the backpackers and budget tourists.

Scenario

November 13, 2009. Airport turnstiles hit 5 million.

Police setup roadblocks and command the airlines to stop flights till Jan. 1 2010.

Ridiculous?

Maybe.

Will it save Phuket?

There is no salvation for the damned and I know, because I live in Pattaya.

Sin sun and sleaze.

Mind you, no downsides stopped Kate Moss from vacationing on Phuket.

Not even traveling with her junkie boyfriend.

I saw the Libertines in New York. My friend, Nicole said, “They’re going to be the next big thing.”

All the girls in the audience thought the lead singer was hot. Jealousy had nothing to do with my dismissing them as mediocre. In the words of Richard Harris’ MCARTHUR PARK, “This time we almost made it, didn’t we?”

Fame and fortune are the future for Phuket.

I wish the Pearl of the Andaman luck in living up to those aspirations.

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