After leaving Mae Hong Son back in 2002, Eloise and I headed straight for the gulf of Thailand. Our final destination in the country was to be a small island resort near the coast of Krabi, a place Eloise knew very little about at the time as I had been keeping it a closely guarded secret. On the way, however, we had a few days to spare and had decided to spend them relaxing in Phuket so that I could show her the beauty of Phi Phi and the islands of the Andaman sea. The Centara Villas is a resort complex on the top of a hill halfway between Patong and the nearby village of Karon and looked, from the pictures in the brochure, to be almost the exact shade of romantic I was looking for. It was also perfectly positioned for the local shops and restaurants, as long as we didn't mind killing ourselves on the climb back up the ridiculously steep hill afterwards.

Almost as soon as our taxi turned off the road and drew up in front of the lavish looking reception building, I knew the Centara Villas was going to be everything I'd hoped it would be. Built on the side of a steep hill overlooking Karon Beach and the Andaman Sea, a narrow private road zig-zags downward between rows of delightful wooden villas supported on stilts. I have no idea how the villas stay where they are without occasionally having to be rescued from the sea, but we were assured that they do, and that was enough for us. The meandering resort road was just wide enough to allow golf carts to pass each other carrying guests up to reception or down to the swimming pool, but only if we allowed for a lot of reversing and cursing in the process - but this was all part of the charm. Flights of steps wound between the villas, connecting stretches of the road as it weaved back and forth between the levels, and just in case we weren't all mountain climbers or body builders, telephones were positioned at intervals along the curb, allowing anyone who wished to get up or down the hill without suffering a myocardial infarction to call for a golf cart. The whole experience felt a little like arriving on fantasy island.

I had booked Eloise and I into a deluxe villa, as though anything at the Centara could be anything less than perfect anyway, and we were driven to our telephone point from where the driver helped us carry our luggage up the remaining steps to our villa. Entry was through a small wooden patio which doubled as a balcony on which we could sit and watch the sunset. Sliding doors led into a small cosy bedroom, most of which was taken up with a four poster bed over which had been draped mosquito netting in a way which was clearly intended to give the impression it was for the purposes of creating a romantic ambiance rather than to prevent a sudden bout of malaria in the night. Waiting for us on the pillow, and completing our welcome to paradise, was a single red flower.

Adjoining the bedroom was an en suite bathroom which, bizarrely, contained a large open window over the top of the shower which flooded the room with light during the day and showed us the stars at night, just in case we fancied showering by moonlight. The bathroom also contained, for no apparent reason, a small bed of flowers which we had to try very hard not to step on whenever we wanted to use the facilities. This, of course, should've seemed just a little on the odd side - but you tend to quickly forgive these little eccentricities when everything around you is otherwise perfect. And to me, that's exactly what our villa was - perfect - and yet it wasn't the most expensive option. For the mere cost of one arm and two legs, we could have upgraded to a poolside villa with our own spa or private outdoor garden, but both of these options seemed to me to be rather missing the point - who wants to stay at home in their villa all day taking baths when you're in a place as beautiful as Thailand? For the same reason, the fact that our room boasted satellite television, on demand movies and a well stocked mini-bar totally passed me by un-noticed.

There were plenty of choices at the resort when it came to food. At the top of the hill, next to reception, the Cliff Bar and Restaurant allowed us to sit outside sipping cocktails at sunset or have dinner surrounded by panoramic views of the Andaman Sea. On the other hand, if all our energy had been sapped by spending all day taking part in strenuous activities such as laying by the pool or shopping in Patong, we could opt to walk down the hill rather than up it and have dinner at the Bayview Restaurant overlooking the pool. This was generally more of a buffet set-up and we found that we could usually just wander in, mention our villa number and load up our plates. The chef looked to be constantly busy behind the counter, steam and delicious local smells emanating from his general vicinity throughout our meal - every now and again, he would emerge from his hiding place with a giant platter of mouth-watering delicacies and set them down at somebody's table before disappearing back into the makeshift kitchen. The Bayview did exactly what it said on the tin, affording us particularly spectacular views of the Andaman sea and the bay beyond the pool, and was a delightful place to relax at the end of the day. Both restaurants, however, are pretty popular local destinations - so much so that you can book a table on the internet before you've even booked your room.

Getting from the resort to the shops and nightlife could be done in one of two ways. If we were feeling lazy, we could get reception to call us a taxi. These usually turned up pretty quickly, but we wouldn't have really cared even if they'd kept us waiting as it would've just been an excuse to sit at the bar next to reception and gaze out to sea for a while. Alternatively, we could decide to get some exercise and set off on the long downhill walk in either direction - one way would eventually lead us into the town of Karon, the other to Patong. Either way, the downward journey was very easy - it was the return up the hill which taught us a thing or two about fitness. As a general rule, we walked to town and then got a taxi back. Actually, the taxis in Karon and Patong were not at all what we had been expecting as westerners. Rather than being comfortable enclosed vehicles as we are used to back home, a local taxi in Phuket usually consists of a guy driving a fairly old truck with a cab up front and a rickety carriage on the back with a single long hard wooden seat on each side. The back of the carriage is completely open for climbing in and out, and the two sides consist of two long glassless windows through which you are more than welcome to fall whenever the taxi goes over a bump in the road. If you're lucky, the driver might even notice and come back for you.

The small seafront town of Karon is a world away from neighbouring Patong, if you'll excuse my strange bending of the English language for a moment. Rather than being a loud vibrant place, Karon attracts people looking for a simpler holiday and provides only the amenities to get from one day to the next. It is, however, Phuket's second most popular tourist resort for precisely this reason. There are no streets of nightclubs or rows of packed restaurants, a refreshing fact which proves that the popularity of a resort doesn't have to rely solely on how much there is to do - on our first trip into Karon, it took me a while to even find a cash machine - and afterwards I rather wished I hadn't as it told me it was out of cash and then took the money out of my account anyway. There are a couple of low-key restaurants and bars as you enter the town from the direction of Patong, but very little beyond. Karon does have a street which runs along the beach, but it is lined with hotels and spa resorts rather than attractions. The sand is of the pure white variety you would expect to see on the outlying islands, and according to the website for the Centara Villas is known for squeaking loudly when stepped on. Personally, I cannot vouch for this as I have never encountered squeaking sand in my life and would probably want to get off it rather quickly if I ever did, but I can certainly recommend Karon Beach as an alternative to the junk food wrapper covered seafront that is Patong - especially since the larger fast food chains have begun to descend on the area. This is very much the place to stay if you don't want to be woken up in the middle of the night by a drunken bar crawl staggering past your front door, and Patong is very much the place to stay if you want to be on a drunken bar crawl that gets to stagger past somebody else's front door.

One really obvious thing about the ridiculous exchange rate between the Thai Baht and the UK Pound is that nobody really knows what their money is worth from one day to the next. At the time of writing, one pound would buy me sixty-four Baht. This is never really a problem as you know that everything in Thailand is costing you next to nothing, but the confusion did prove useful to Eloise and I when we arrived in Patong and decided in a moment of madness to head for McDonalds for something to eat. While Eloise found a table among the throngs of tourists stuffing their faces, I went up to the counter and ordered - coming away with a tray laden down with food and drink which had probably cost me not much more than a pound or two. On the way back to the table, a drunken English guy came bursting through the door with his mates and knocked me flying, sending my tray clattering to the ground and spreading my food all over the floor. Stopping in his tracks, he looked momentarily horrified at what he had done before putting his hand on my shoulder, apologising profusely in a drunken slur and handing me a wad of Thai banknotes with which to replace our meals. I worked out later that he had given me enough money to pay for our first couple of days spending in resort, probably enough to have replaced our meals fifty times over - but by that time the group had moved on and we were forced to spend the change on souvenirs instead. It isn't often you arrive in a foreign country on a budget and almost immediately have somebody pay for your stay.

Our stay in Phuket coincided with our first Valentines Day together, and we had dinner in one of the nicer restaurants on Patong sea front. I had, of course, tried very hard to arrange the dates of our holiday so that Valentines Day would be during our stay at the Rayavadee, the island resort I had ended up booking for the following week - but as you can imagine, getting such a place for Valentines was a little like trying to book a ticket to Glastonbury music festival the day before it starts. I didn't even like to ask how far in advance we would've had to book a table at the Centara Villas, but the people were already lining up to get in when we left to look for something to eat in town. Nevertheless, we found a romantic place along the front and were able to forget for a moment that we were in Patong and be surrounded by other couples celebrating the day. As it turned out, our stay at the Rayavadee a few days later was pretty much like an extended Valentines Day anyway...

About Simon and Burfords Travels:

Simon Burford is a UK based travel writer. He will be re-publishing his travel blogs, chapters from his books and other miscellaneous rantings on these pages over the coming weeks and months, and the entry on this page may not necessarily reflect todays date.