Life After the Tsunami

Another long day of transportation. First we took the ferry from Koh Samui. This one was a lot faster and dirtier than the one we had taken in. I don't know if it was just my body trying to adapt to activity again or what, but I wasn't feeling so well. The journey was about two hours. I tried sleeping for most of it. When we got to land we boarded a bus and we headed to Krabi. This was a long drive, another two hours. We got to ride with a bunch of American frat boys. Listening to them talk was entertainment in itself. I've been away from American life for so long it's quite a novelty to hear an American conversation. One guy was saying, “You've got to check it out, it's totally sick, dude” and the other one was like “Yeah, totally bro, I'll check it out. Thanks man.” It's hard to imagine that at one time I used to slide into a conversation like that with ease, but now I'm more likely to ask “Anyone fancy a cup of tea?” Britain does that to you.

The landscape around Krabi is picturebook perfect. Karsts (limestone formations) line the horizon like toes on a foot. They're whimsical and almost cuddly looking, soft and rolling in green. We stopped just short of them, heading into Krabi proper. We pulled down a dirt lane where the bus dropped us off at what looked like a goat farm. I wasn't sure what this had to do with the boat to Koh Phi Phi, but at least Chris and I got to eat some noodles. There were dirty hippies about. Chris knows the British classes way better than I do. He says the dirtier the backpacker, the richer the parents. These two girls were nasty. Just nasty. Their hair was roped around their heads in filthy dreds and they were walking barefoot everywhere. I don't mean to be judgemental, but these girls were like walking diseases. Not even the locals walk around without shoes; it's a sure way to catch a parasite.  Anyway, Chris said that they were posh girls traveling on their daddys' money. Their dirtiness was their way of getting attention. He could have been right. He probably was. I'll never understand the British class system.

We were transported by mini-buses to the port. Boarding another ferry, it took us another two hours to reach Koh Phi Phi. A long-ass day. I hoped for another bungalow on the beach. I was hoping for another version of paradise, similiar to the one we had experienced on Koh Samui.

Prison on the Beach

The first thing they asked from us upon arrival, just after we stepped off the boat, was to pay a tourist tax. Something about keeping the island clean. Well, we had no option but to pay it. I had heard about the mountains of plastic bottles and such. I guess it seemed fair, as these islands have no landfills. They end up having to burn their trash.

Koh Phi Phi (which rhymes with Go Pee Pee) is made up of two islands. Koh Phi Phi Leh (the smaller of the two) and Koh Phi Phi Don.  Civilization is on the Don, but in the town there are no roads, only pathways. It's quite nice as you don't have to be looking behind you all the time for motorbikes. The pathway right off the boat was mostly lined with agencies promoting tours and accommodation. One guy latched onto us, as it was apparent that we didn't know where to head to. He showed us pictures of some nice places, but they were all outside of our budget. We asked for something within the £8-£10 range, and that was how we ended up at the hellhole on the beach.

This place was dire. First there was the smell. It hit us as soon as we walked in the room. It was musty and moldy. Sure enough, the bathroom was being used as a mold farm. Everything in the bathroom was grotty, even the handle on the faucet. Using the bathroom, I felt dirtier coming out of it than I did going in. The walls to the actual bedroom were stained, as if someone had been slinging around beer, or perhaps projectile vomiting it. Laying on the bed, there were stains even on the ceiling. How the...? We had been asked to take our shoes off at the building's entrance, which is all fine and good, but the floors were slimy. My shoes went back on. I can't stand the thought of walking around in other people's filth.

It was a room with a view. Through the bars we had an excellent view of a trash heap. Empty water bottles, beer bottles, a rusted bike, a broken window pane, and God knows what else. It was good to see our tourist tax money being put to good use. The only consolation is that nobody in their right mind would try to break into our room through the window during the night. Stealth would not be on their side, not with all that crap to wade through.

Tsunami Village

The only upside to our hellhole was its location. It was close to the only decent beach on the island. Chris had been to the island before, back in 2002. He said the beach hadn't been there then. The beach must have been constructed after the 2005 tsunami.

Actually Chris said that much of the island had changed. There must have been an enormous amount of money poured into restoration of the island. It was all the same to me, this was my first time here. There was a vibrant feel to the island, a young throbbing energy. Or maybe that was just the dance music pumping from every club on the beach. We saw no signs of devastation. The only reminder of the tsunami were signs posted around the island; not only the evacuation signs pointing to higher ground, but the signs proclaiming the name of the town itself. Tsunami Village. This no doubt referred to the narrow strip of land in the center of the island which housed most of the population. So many people had died on this thin band of land, either overcome by the water or carried off to sea. It seemed inappropriate to name it Tsunami Village. But maybe it was just the locals’ way of dealing with the tragedy.

You'd never guess that something bad happened on Koh Phi Phi. It's party central. I remembered the frat boys on the bus. This was their world, where booze was sold in buckets and girls went topless on the beach. We actually even encountered a group of drunk guys (what's the British equivalent of a frat boy?) doing a human pyramid on the beach one night. The top guy was trying to show off and they all came tumbling down. Yeah they were funny, but I was really feeling my age. Koh Phi Phi is for the young. It's for hooking up and dancing and drinking into the wee hours of the night.

Chris and I only stayed out late two of the nights we were there. The first was to watch Muay Thai boxing. We were delighted to find Reggae Bar, not far from the hellhole where we were staying. Forget the $30 tickets at Chaweng—there wasn't an entrance fee at the Reggae Bar. The drinks were slightly elevated in price, but we discovered that a bucket of cheap Thai whisky and Coke would last us long enough to watch several of the fights. A giant ring graced the center of the bar. A sign hung there encouraged volunteers to come fight.; they would be rewarded with a free bucket of booze. Well, I wasn't about to. I was really just there to watch. This guy came around asking people. Finally he found a fiesty Asian girl and a hesitant British girl who drunkingly aquiesced. The poor British girl didn't know what she was in for. She was dancing all around in the ring, trying to put on a show for the crowd. Then the Asian girl came and knocked her down. It was great stuff. The next fight was lame, just some more drunk British girls. They were friends and were more interested in doing choreographed dance moves than in fighting one another. The crowd booed at them and started getting restless for some real fighting. Finally some real boxers came on, streamlined with muscles and not an ounce of fat. They looked like they meant business. Finally we got to see some real Muay Thai moves. It wasn't as violent as I imagined it would be. You could tell that real skill was involved. At the end of it all the guys slung their arms around each other and laughed. They had enjoyed it, and for that I enjoyed it too.

Chris and I found ourselves on the beach that night. There were nightclubs lining the beach with fire pits.  On a normal night they usually advertized fire shows, but the weather was threatening and the bars were mostly empty. Chris and I plopped down on some bean bags on the beach and ordered some drinks. Before we knew it, the storm that had been threatening moved in. We ran for cover in the bar and waited out the storm with a few others.

The second night we went out involved watching “The Beach,” a movie that I had seen years before and had lost interest in about three quarters way through. I did remember the beautiful beach scenes, and for this I drawn to Koh Phi Phi (as is just about every other traveler). In the movie, the Beach is nowhere near KPP. Rather it's north of Koh Pga Ngan, over in Koh Samui territory. The actual location where they filmed was on Koh Phi Phi Leh, the smaller uninhabited island. There were boat tours galore advertizing a visit to the Beach. Chris and I had to go check this beach out.

The Beach

We had signed up for a five-hour tour. It included several stops: monkeys, snorkeling, three hours on the Beach (also known as Maya Bay), and a tuna fish sandwich. The board advertizing the tour didn't say tuna fish sandwich, it said it included a whiskey bucket. The man made it clear that that was a printing error. We'd be getting a sandwich instead. Chris and I didn't care, we had tried the Thai whiskey and we weren't really big fans of it. On a side note, we had seen flyers advertizing party cruises with free unlimited booze. These cruises featured swimming and snorkling, and also made a stop to feed monkeys; all perfect things to do while drunk. No safety issues there.

Chris and I were excited about our half-day trip. We got to the agency on time, only to find out that the trip had been cancelled. Something to do with mechanical problems with the boat. We suspected that the guy was going to con us into taking a more expensive cruise, but he surprised us by offering a cheaper one, the same cruise, only shorter. Instead of three hours at Maya Bay, we'd only get one hour. It didn't sound too bad. I asked if the tuna fish sandwich was still included. He laughed but didn't answer the answer (turned out it wasn't). Anyway, we decided it was a good deal, so we got a portion of our money back and made ourselves busy for the next two hours.

We hung out in a restaurant terrace on the beach. This was a different beach than the one we were staying on. With all the rocks, this one wasn't suited for bathers. There were also boats lined up in the water. The only thing it did offer was a view. Yes, there was Koh Phi Phi Leh in the near distance, with all its sharp white limestone cliffs. But that's not what we were looking at. There were three girls sunbathing topless on the beach. This wasn't a huge deal. I've seen my share of tits in my time (and these were incredibly small); the thing that kept our attention (and the attention of everyone else in the restaurant) was the girls posing for one another. For some reason there was a chair on the beach, and they were doing all kinds of poses around it while they took turns taking pictures. Then a tourist boat came in from the mainland, and there those girls were, welcoming them all with naked chests. It was a bit weird. Koh Phi Phi, it should be noted, is mostly a muslim island. It's quite inappropriate to parade around topless, even if the island is known for its party atmosphere. No one interupted the girls in their exhibitionism, but then ordinary, overweight people started appearing on the beach, stepping into the girls' photo shoots. At this the girls retreated back to their towels. Watching the girls had passed the time. We soon returned to the agency where we were led to our long-tail boat.

Two other couples boarded along with us. One couple was French, and the other Indian. We made a stop at a beach just down aways, and picked up four more people, all of them young. Chris and I noticed we were the oldest ones there.

Our first stop was at Monkey Beach; aptly named, for there were myriads of monkeys clambering about. Now I've always always liked monkeys. They are funny-looking creatures. I’d seen some up close in Morocco and also in a Monkey Forest outside of Stoke-on-Trent and at no time had they bothered me. My short experience with monkeys had taught me to trust them. But my trust was soon to be shattered.

We hopped off the boat into shallow water. It wasn't the best beach. The rocks were sharp and hard to walk on. Several other boats were there, all with young tourists laughing at the monkeys. The primates walked among us, not really caring about us. But then Chris touched a monkey.

It was a juvenile monkey; not a baby, but not a full-grown adult. It was just hanging out on a tree branch, at chest level to us. Chris reached out, and for whatever reason, touched the monkey on the back. The reaction was immediate, not from the young monkey, but by the monkey community. The nearest monkey, probably the mama, as quick as lightening hopped down the branch and took a swipe at Chris, delivering a scratch to his arm. She rebuked him in monkey language, showing her sharp teeth. Immediately after the attack, another monkey came at him, and then another. I was standing right by Chris, so I was in the line of fire as well. We kept backing up, and yet more monkeys were coming at us. Scary. Everyone on the beach was laughing at us. If we turned around and saw a monkey there, we'd move swiftly away. Finally we just decided it best to get back on the boat. Chris had brought disgrace upon us. The word was out that Chris was some kind of monkey pedophile, and there was nothing we could do. Even as our boat pulled away, we saw monkeys swimming in the water. We wondered if they were still trying to get to us.

After our monkey experience, we crossed the water seperating the two Koh Phi Phi islands. The waves were epic. We saw them coming at us, bigger than a bus. Many times the waves were over our heads as they came rolling at us. It reminded me of something out of The Perfect Storm. I didn't think our little boat could handle it. Even the engine seemed to be struggling. We all held on for dear life as we made that crossing, but soon enough we passed along the island, and the waters calmed. We cruised past yawning caves and weird limestone formations. Then we entered a lagoon and came to the most idylic waters I’d ever encountered.

Paradise. The water was a perfect shade of blue, so clear and warm, and there were colourful tropical fish swimming about. We jumped out of the boat and swam around in this wonderful setting. There was a rope swing attached to a tree branch coming off the cliff. Chris was the first to swing on it, drawing the attention of numerous swimmers. After that everyone took their turn on it. It was already starting to feel like the Beach. But we weren't there yet. First, a few snorkling stops.

I hate snorkling. I've been snorkling on several occassions and I've never liked it. I had a real harrowing experience off the Florida Keys when I was younger, and I hadn't gotten over it. I decided to give it a go anyway. The water in the lagoon was so calm. As soon as I put my mask on and heard my own breathing in my ears, the fear came back. I don't like masks. I don't like being forced to breathe out of my mouth. In fact, I'm not a fan of being out in open water. I prefer to be on a beach where the ground is directly under my feet. Even then I'm afraid of jellyfish and things moving about. What was I doing out here? I have to say that the fish were outstanding, the few times I stuck my head under the water. They were brilliant, in their tropical yellows and blues. They swam by, not giving a care about our presence. If I tried to touch one, they'd pick up their pace somewhat, but still were within reach. It was a beautiful thing. But my snorkle kept getting water in it and I couldn't enjoy the experience. Soon I was back on the boat and feeding dried anchovies (a treat from 7-eleven) to the schools of fish.

Finally we were all on board and on our way. We entered a different bay, and we thought this was it—the Beach. We looked all around but couldn't find a beach. Instead there were a number of boats just rolling in the rough water. The boats were empty. We couldn't figure out what was going on. Our guide then pointed to a cliff. It seemed so far away, but we could make out a rope ladder. He told us we had to climb the rope ladder, then follow the path to the beach. We all looked at each other incredulously. We were supposed to swim in that choppy water? We could see the waves pounding against the cliff where the ladder was. How were we supposed to do this?  I think all of us were intimidated by this task.

We were given a waterproof bag in which to put our cameras. Then one by one we jumped into the water, and swam with all our might to get to that cliff. It was brutal. The waves were knocking us about. Then we saw a rope coming up from the water, angling up to the ladder. This was good, as we had something to direct us. But the waves were pounding us, and as we got closer to the cliffs we noticed that there were sharp rocks underneath. Several other boats had unloaded their passengers along with us, so there was a surge of swimmers suddenly holding onto the rope. As the waves came in, it was a bombardment of bodies against the rocks. I heard a huge gasp, and then a particularly large wave bashed into us. We all slammed into the rocks. I banged my ankle, but others fared worse. I pulled with all my might and got my body up on that ladder. With shaky arms and legs I climbed up to the platform and tried to recover. Everyone had been shaken up by the experience, even the young strapping guys. The guy that had held our bag full of cameras had cut his foot on the rocks. We wondered how the hell we were going to get back to the boat, fighting those powerful waves. We had an hour before we had to make our way back.

There was another little bay of water. Its serenity was in stark constrast to the force we had just experienced. We could see a path through some trees and followed it. We came into a little forest with signs pointing to the Beach. Tents were set up in a little community. I had heard that some people camp on the beach. The setting was familiar. They had used this forest and pathway in the movie. The path narrowed, and as we walked through the trees we could hear the surf ahead of us. It was like walking in the steps of DiCaprio. The trees opened up and we came to the Beach.

It was magnificent, a bay like no other, almost entirely enclosed. In the movie they superimposed more cliffs to make it look like a lagoon, but this was definitely the setting. There was a feeling of exclusivity being there, even though we were among others. We had worked to get to this place, and we were rewarded with stunning white sand and a view to die for. Everyone there was young and fit. We had entered a very Beach-like community, like the one in the film.

No boats floated in the bay. The sea was very rough, just as it had been on the other side. I stood in the booming surf and felt something big hit my leg. I reached down as it floated by. It was a bowling-ball sized rock. The surf was powerful enough to be throwing this stuff around. Standing in the water hurt, as the sea kept hurling things at me. Chris and I, upon looking around, found there were quite a few people limping around or tending to injuries. The Beach was a rough place. But it was totally worth it.

I didn't know what we were going to do for an hour if we couldn't swim, but luckily we moved down the beach where we found the water to be calmer. The surge of the waves was still incredibly strong. I would try to stand and withstand the force of a wave without falling over. It was powerful stuff. Even sitting on the beach I would be accosted with waves. The beach would be empty, then a huge wave would come crashing in, soaking me up to my ears. But I loved it. This was a beach with personality. And it felt so incredibly private between those cliffs. I could see why they wanted this beach for the movie. The whole feel of it is so fitting.

Soon our hour was up. There was a discussion where the boat was going to be. The majority of us believed we had to go out the way we came in. There was one guy, the Indian guy, whose wife had stayed on the boat. He swore he had been told that the boat was going to come around for us. He made us hopeful, as none of us wanted to face that rope ladder again, but there were no boats in the bay. We took a vote and decided to go back to the rope ladder. When we got to the top of the platform, we saw a row of boats lined up together. Our boat was bobbing there, so one by one we decended the ladder.

Each of us was nervous in our own way. Chris confided to me later that he had never been so scared; his legs had been shaking. I was scared also, looking at those waves coming in, but I knew we had to face them.  In watching some of the others, I told Chris to keep his feet up the entire way and just move with his arms. He went first and I followed. Actually it was a lot easier, as we were moving away from the rocks, not towards them. Soon we let go of the rope and we had to swim to the boats. This was the hardest part for me. The waves were huge and we had to slice right through them. I gave it all I had, and by the time I made it to the boat I was drained. This activity is definitely something designed for the young. I was happy to be back on the boat, and didn't plan to leave it again until we reached land.

Everyone on board seemed to be in a state of recovery. Some were hurt, but most were just exhausted. The guide cut up some pineapple and we ate it as the boat lurched in the waves. I was steadily becoming seasick. I wanted us to shove off, as sitting in a boat in rough seas has never sat well with me. Eventually we did take off and I was relieved, feeling the bite of fresh wind in my face. However, too soon we came to a stop and the guide announced another snorkling stop. I looked around unbelievably. Who the hell wanted to go snorkling after that ordeal? We all looked like we were ready for bed. There were a few guys who decided to go. The rest of us sat on the boat, withstanding the rise and fall of the waves.

Chris and I were sick. I'm not sure if Chris actually puked, but he moved himself to the front of the boat where he could hang off the side. I sat looking out to sea, trying to fix my eyes on something that wouldn't make me dizzy. Soon my legs went numb, then my arms. This has only happened to me once, and that was on that harrowing snorkling trip out in Florida. I must have been green I was so sick. The numbness moved into my chest and I really thought I might die. Of course I knew I wasn't going to die, but it's a terrible moment when you're sick and there's nothing you can do about it. The boat kept bobbing, and I thought for sure something was going to explode in me, from either the top or bottom half of me. I thought of jumping in the water but held off, really hoping the snorklers would be called back. I think the guide took pity on Chris and I and soon gathered everyone. We were moving again, and the fresh air once again helped. I just wanted to get back to the big island. I kept myself focused on the thought of jumping off at the pier and kissing the ground. That or running for a bathroom.

I thought our trip was over. After all, the Beach had been the climax. But halfway across the straight seperating the islands, the guide stopped the boat. He asked if we wanted to see the sunset. We all kind of shrugged and said okay. But then he said we'd have to sit there for half an hour. Another half an hour bobbing around. “I think I'll die,” I told the others. I'm not sure if this swayed them, or if the others were tired and wanted to get back, but we all changed our minds and forewent the sunset.

I can't remember a case of motion sickness as severe as the one I had on that trip. It has put the fear of boats into me now, and even when we got back to Bangkok I had trouble on the express boat up and down the Chao Phraya. I'm glad I did the Beach; it's been one of the main highlights of this trip. I'm glad I did it, and now I never have to do anything like that again.

The Viewpoint

After two nights in our hellhole, we moved to a different hotel. In walking around more of the island, we came across a charming establishment on the outskirts of the town. It was more rural, away from the tourist traps. The price was actually cheaper than at the hellhole. It was clean and homey, and even had artwork on the walls.

Just down the road (pathway) was a real road, one on which motorbikes could travel. There was a sign there pointing to the Viewpoint. Chris said it was the highest point on the island. He hadn't climbed it before, but he wanted to do it this time around.

I didn't think the Viewpoint would be much. The hills didn't look very high. I thought it was just up the road. On our last night, we figured it was now or never. It was time to stop being lazy and hike our asses up to the Viewpoint (after the Beach we had gotten very lazy, napping a lot or hanging out in cafes fattening ourselves up with Western-style fare). We thought we'd take a little jaunt, right before sunset to catch the sun going down.

The walk was brutal. It was steep and unforgiving. We'd go up one steep stretch, thinking the Viewpoint would be right around the corner, and then come to another steep hill, then another and another. It kept going. We passed by village people coming down the hill, probably farm workers done with their day's work. Chris and I were huffing and puffing. They must have found us amusing. What concerned me is that no other Westerners were around. I thought the Viewpoint was a big attraction. Why were we alone in hiking up this road? Was there something we didn't know? Well as we went on it only got worse. The road turned to dirt and we entered deep forest. The sun was going down and I was concerned about walking back in the dark. We kept considering turning back. Then I saw a guy go jogging past us in flip flops and felt like a wuss. We kept going.

The sun was really going down at this point and we didn't know how far ahead the Viewpiont was. We met some Westerners coming our way and asked them how far we had to go. They said it was another ten-minute walk. We knew that ten minutes the sun would be gone and we'd be left in the dark. We decided to turn back, and it killed us being so close to our destination. There was a plot of land with a tent-like structure erected. I didn't think anyone was about so I stopped Chris and said maybe we could wander to get a vantage point of the island. After all we were very near the top. As we stepped around the tent, a figure came out (a Western hippie character) informing us that we were welcome to explore. We asked him about the Viewpoint and he pointed just up the road, “Two minutes away,” he said. We had heard ten, but he shook his head. “It's right there.” Well thank you hippie guy. If it wasn't for him we wouldn't have made it to the Viewpoint.

We continued two minutes up the road, and sure enough we came to the Viewpoint. And it was everything it promised to be. There were a bunch of people sitting around on rocks watching the sunset. It was cloudy, so it wasn't a perfect sunset, but it was a beautiful scene nonetheless. We saw Tsunami Village in all its glory. For the first time we could grasp how vulnerable it was to the sea. The village is located right on a thin strip of land. I could only imagine how much was washed away when the tsunami came roaring through. It really must have been devastating.

Thankfully there was another, easier route back to town. It was mostly steps, which were easy to follow in the gathering dark. We passed by bungalows and nice hotels that blanketed the hillside. We came to a booth at the bottom which charged an entry fee for the Viewpoint. Well at least we had escaped that by taking the back road.

Coming down from the hill, we went in search of dinner. One of the first places we came to, I noticed they had advertized a showing of “The Beach.” I had been wanting to see it, and it only seemed fitting now that we had been there. The restaurant was Mexican. Well that was it for me. I was ready to stay put for the next two hours, a margarita or two in hand.

We were led up a spiral staircase to a terrace overlooking the beach and the village. We were perched in what looked like a treehouse. The food and drinks were expensive, but we did have perfect seats for “The Beach.” The movie was stupid as hell, but as with “The Sound of Music” in Salzburg, it was fun to identify the places we had been. I loved our Beach experience. I feel we had gotten a piece of paradise.

We got pretty drunk, seen as how we had kept ordering drinks while the movie played. Having downed three margaritas, I had difficulty descending those spiral steps. However we were in too good of a mood to end our night. We ended back on the beach and at the nightclub we had visited before, the one with the beanbags. The weather was better this time around and we got a good view of the fireshow. A lot of the nightclubs feature a fireshow, which is basically some guys throwing around flaming batons. I did some baton twirling when I was a kid, so I recognized a lot of moves. When I think about it, I think I'd be pretty good at twirling fire, if the opportunity ever came up. After the batons, they lit a rope and started twirling it. One by one tourists would go up and jump. One girl's crotch caught on fire doing this. Again, jumping through fire drunk? A good idea? Me thinks not.

Chris and I enjoyed our last night in Koh Phi Phi, sitting out under the stars. I knew I'd have a killer hangover in the morning, for the ferry back to the mainland, but that didn't matter. I had loved our time on this ultra-touristy backpackers' island. Koh Phi Phi had its good and bad points, but overall it was an unmissable part of the Thai experience for me. I'm glad we came.