Grockles (by Joe)

The Thai islands are outstandingly beautiful, cheap and a wonderful place to be. But there's a vague, nagging dissatisfaction that keeps surfacing.

It's like this:

In Torquay, south Devon, where my Mum grew up, the locals have a special term for tourists. They call them ‘Grockles’. It’s not exactly a derogatory term, but once you understand it, it’s not exactly a term of endearment either.

Grockles (shoals and shoals of them) arrive in Torquay for the summer season. They crawl all over the countryside; take photos constantly; get lost on the moors; ask directions to the model village; make it impossible to get to Exeter in less than 3 hours; honestly don’t realise they have to pay to use the deckchairs; make a mess with their ice-cream; and time and again walk through your restaurant in wet swimming trunks with sandy feet (despite the sign).

Individually, they can be polite and generous; collectively, they spend lots of money and account for a large part of the locals’ wealth – they are a necessary nuisance to be welcomed as warmly as possible, perhaps chatted with over a drink and helped out where required (for no immediate personal gain).

But they remain outsiders, not seriously to be taken in or embraced beyond a certain casual friendliness. It’s just not worth it, because the bottom line with Grockles is that smart or stupid, likeable or unpleasant, they come, they stay a while and then – invariably – they go.

Hanging out for the best part of a month in the Thai islands brought the term back to mind. It is beautiful here, the beaches are wonderful, prices cheap, weather fantastic and people very warm.

Yet however long you stay and however many people you meet, that vague, nagging dissatisfaction keeps coming back to you – we’re all just Grockles here, you see.

Pics: Top: Grockles arriving in Koh Tao/ Below: Grockles leaving Koh Tao:


Joe