I am tossed into a small minibus, speeding through the sign-polluted streets of Phuket Town and sinuous motorways cutting across the hilly terrain in an almost acrobatic way. The Western beaches and particularly Kata Beach are next, my base of operations for the upcoming days.

In my mind, the scenery around me overlaps with footage recorded here some ten years back, when powerful waves swept across this island killing and displacing thousands product of one of the most destructive tsunamis ever recorded. 

And so, the ‘resort life’ begins soon after a friend, who I hadn’t seen since my time based in Doha arrives from Melbourne, proceeding to check into our comfortable room, turning the aircon at full blast, TV on BBC News and curtains wide open for views of the village. ‘Look, they provide small toiletries, robes and beach towels!’.quite the change after the bungalow in Phi Phi.

In no time, we follow a small pathway to the beach where a few food and fresh juice stalls dot the Northern end of the sand strand, sheltered under mangrove and palm trees.

Fried noodles, fresh mango juice crushed with ice and the sound of the waves smoothly sliding across the swimming-pool like ocean make for an almost perfect first glimpse of Phuket, continuing throughout the day with some freshly made ‘mojitos’ bought in the conveniently located street market and a time by the swimming pool catching up with life, because in the end, many things seem to have changed in almost six years.

Seafood skewers for dinner seem to be a delicious yet treacherous idea. As a consequence, my first night in Phuket is hell, with a complete lack of sleep and a stomach cramping for several hours.

In the morning, breakfast is barely touched and I feel like I have been swimming countless sets of butterfly stroke non-stop for hours.

A walk to the beach represents a challenge to my already scarce energy levels, disguised behind my sunglasses and a smirk, only made worse by my sunburned shoulders and my constant cough.

Perhaps dismayed by my looks, my roommate rushes to the local pharmacy, which in Thailand means being offered a cocktail of strong drugs and copious amounts of Panadol. She purchases the best combo of medicines to remedy my sickness promptly. This is key as my friend’s wedding, which is main reason why I am in Southeast Asia, is due to happen in a few hours.

Preparations for the big event start with a bit of rest, a frustrated quest for an iron across all shops in Kata Beach and an aloe vera massage which combined with heavy doses of Panadol work miraculously in getting rid of any body pain I previously had.

Nearby Katathani Beach Resort awaits. An idyllic space surrounded by manicured and vibrant green gardens, decorated in white linen which blend with the quiet sands of the beach and the sun starting to set in the pink horizon, acting like it is part of the venue itself.

It is also one of the hottest afternoons in Phuket in days. Girls try to retouch their make up constantly and guys try not to look exaggeratedly sweaty. 

In the end, it is my friend’s special day and every single detail around it must be just as the place itself: perfect.

A few minutes past four in the afternoon, the glowing bride marches through the row of white chairs and sweaty guests wearing the shiniest of the smiles, before being handed to the groom which now awaits under an altar covered in flowers and lit by the reflection of the sun setting in the silver ocean.

Religious service starts, jokes are cracked, photos are taken, big ‘Yes’es are said and a gracious baby elephant is in charge of closing the ceremony in the most authentic Thai way.

It is now time to celebrate this cross-continent romance, and we are doing so with people from all over the world gathered in this little piece of paradise, eating, drinking and dancing, though nothing could beat the newlyweds specially choreographed version of ‘Happy’, which becomes one of the hits of the fresh evening by the beach.

Days of a much needed relaxed routine follow in Kata. It is the part of the holiday in which no plans are made, no must-go places are designated, but instead, we do whatever we decide to do on the spot, including several trips to the beach laying under mangrove trees, sipping on fresh fruit drinks and bathing in the pristine warm waters of the Andaman Sea, or laying by the swimming pool avoiding the Russian tourists playing a clumsy form of beach volleyball.

An attempt to rent a scooter fails miserably leaving a few bruises and scars on my left leg (and my pride as a driver), turning into a long walk by the side of a busy road under the heat of the late afternoon.

Some hours later, we finally make it to the famous night market in Phuket Town, a space where everything seems to be valid and a place where locals and foreigners alike converge in an adventure of cuisine and shopping.

Laid under a somehow organised grid-like mess, pirate DVD stores play loud Thai music, whilst fake clothes stalls make for colorful displays along with small local girls selling cheap make up and a large sultry area of the market serves all sorts of food, ranging from upscale fresh sushi, to overly sweet pastries and even fried insects.

My friend and I venture to the beach for the last time, before taking a ‘songtaew’, a blue open-air bus which is the Phuket answer to public transport, into Phuket Town for some good-bye formalities before she then proceeds to continue to the airport on yet another minibus.

Back in the Western beaches and fighting the holiday blues, I enjoy a last drink with the newlyweds and fellow guests before retreating to my hotel, packing up and preparing for a day of constant travelling, starting at around ten in the next morning with a minibus route which provides a quick look at the tourist-crowded and somehow unappealing Patong Beach before taking a modern motorway to the main international airport.

At the Air Asia check in desk, an interest conversation unfolds in regards of my next destination. Visas are triple-checked with the main office and I am soon cleared to proceed to immigration and to board an aggressively red-painted Airbus.

When taking off, Phuket Island fades through the late afternoon orange haze, fried noodles are offered for purchase and minutes later we start our descent into Don Mueang airport, which is Bangkok’s second main airport.

I am led through corridors and escalator and visas are checked again by an attendant wearing a red uniform and a shy smile. My flight is soon called for boarding.

With plenty of seats to choose from, I sit beside a young man writing poems in Spanish and travelling with his girlfriend. Across the aisle, a busy middle-aged woman seems to almost smash her keyboard briskly writing e-mails and constantly looking at her watch. When filling out the landing cards, I learn she is an important executive in a telecommunications company based at our destination.

It is a flight full of foreigners which, through a bumpy final approach, are entering one of the most secluded countries in the world.

The white lights of a glass modern terminal announce the arrival of our flight into Yangon, the capital of the Union of Myanmar.