Thai Paradise

The overnight train south to Surat Thani took us through some slums on the outskirts of Bangkok.  With our window pulled down, we watched as families gathered, bathed and fed themselves .  The houses looked makeshift, whole walls missing, leaving them open to our scrutiny.  This was shantytown poverty.  Children waved from the side of the tracks, while others just looked on without much interest.

We were in a sleeper car.  There were a handful of Westerners on board, but by far the majority of our fellow passangers were Thais.  Chris and I had top bunks which folded down from the ceiling.  There were guys who came around and prepared our beds for us, spreading out sheets and fluffing pillows.  Chris and I immediately crawled into our bunks, pulling the curtains shut for privacy.  I read for awhile, waiting for the lights to go off.  It soon became apparent that the lights weren't going to be shut off (perhaps a security measure) so I made the most of it and rolled over on my side.  It was quite stuffy, the bottom bunks had the windows and the fresh air.  There was an oscilatting fan that brought a breeze around every 8 seconds.  It wasn't the greatest, but I was far from miserable.  I must have dozed off.  I opened my eyes to find a man's face inches from my own.  I must have gasped.  It was suddenly just there, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.  Chris reached out and said, 'It's just me.'  He was on his way to the bathroom and was checking on me.  This was the second time he's frightened me at night on a train.  This was becoming a bad habit.

We awoke in jungle.  We moved to the bottom bunk where we sat and watched the scenery go by.  The heavy foilage reminded me of films I've seen of Vietnam.  I'm not surprised, as many Nam movies were filmed in Thailand.  I could envision the helicopters and plumes of smoke.  I had never been in a jungle like this before.

We alighted in Surat Thani, where we had breakfast at a cafe while waiting for our bus.  We had purchased tickets all the way to Koh Samui.  It wasn't too bad of a journey, as tourists were clearly catered to.  The bus was air conditioned and the seats comfortable.  The journey seemed impossibly long, making stops along the way to let groups on and off.  Finally we came to the port where we finished our journey by ferry.  We sat in an air conditioned room and watched a Thai variety show with belly dancing girls and a clown whose pants kept falling down.  I've decided that clowns aren't funny in any culture.  I've also decided that Thai t.v. is crap.

After a few hours we finally arrived on the island.  We were hoping to be bombarded with people at the port offering accommodation.  There was nobody.  We climbed aboard a shared taxi (a pickup truck with benches in the back) and headed in the direction of Maenam Beach, an area that Chris was somewhat familiar with.  We got dropped off by a road with a lot of signs, and we walked towards the beach, hoping to come across some decent bungalows.  The first place we came to we checked in for two nights.  We ended up staying ten.

Shady Resort

We immediately fell in love with our bungalow.  Our porch overlooked a Buddhist alter (which was attended to each day) and a garden.  The restaurant was a five-second walk away, serving up excellent cheap food and beer (Bacardi Breezers for me).  'Mama' would attend to us, an older lady with fractured English and an explosive laugh.  Short and stout, she walked like a crab.  She watched over us, even counselling Chris when she thought he had drunk too much beer.  She shooed stray dogs away and took naps in her chair during the day.  It was always comforting to have Mama nearby.

The facilities were great, but the real draw of Shady Resort was the beach.  The restaurant stepped down to a narrow strip of golden sand.  A quick run across the beach (the sand is too hot to walk across) would bring us to gorgeously warm water.  The saline level was so high we could easily float on our backs.  In fact it seemed impossible to drown in water like this.  Even so we stayed relatively close to shore.  Sharks were known to reside in these waters, but my main concern was the jellyfish.  Their sting, though not deadly, could create a whole world of pain.  Often a jellyfish would wash up dead in the sand, and even then we had to be careful, as their sting can last even after death.  I was always careful where to step, doing a little shuffle everytime I entered the water (even though that only works with stingrays).  The water was so dense with salt that we couldn't see what we were sharing our space with.  Even in the shallow water we had things brushing up against us, leaving both of us yelping and jumping.  Several times I ran out of the water competely.

We were visiting during the low season.  There was hardly anybody about.  Often we were the only ones in the restaurant.  If we took a little jaunt down the street, we were the only ones patronizing the cafes along there.  We ate at a Nepalese restaurant several times in our stay.  It was called Babu's and served up excellent food.  It was evident by the signs and books in each place that we were among Germans.  There was a scattering of them on the beach.  They all looked like Olympic atheletes with their tanned and toned bodies.  Their children frollicked blonde and naked in the water.  There was one middle aged couple there that Chris and I kept our eyes on.  They were always doing something weird, so much so that we felt they were competition (Chris and I usually have the monopoly on weirdness wherever we go).  We'd look and see the guy in some intense yoga posiition (never a good look in a Speedo) or the woman would  be sprawled out with her legs in birth-giving pose.  One time when Chris and I were acting particularly weird in the water (something to do with vomiting sand) we looked over to see the guy doing a slow crawl out of the water like an amphibian.  And then the woman (wearing a G-string) straddled him.  It was weird stuff, and at that point Chris and I had to throw in the towel.  We knew we had been outweirded by these muesli-munchers.

Civilization

Several days into our stay on Maenam Beach we figured it was our travelers' duty to see what lay beyond our patch of golden sand.  We had seen posters advertising Muay Thai boxing in Chaweng.  We thought that sounded awfully cultural, so we boarded a shared taxi to the east side of the island.  We were dropped off in backpacker's ville, an unholy strip of shops and massage parlours.  I could feel the difference to any place we had been before in Thailand.  The sleeze was coming up off the streets.  The massage parlours advertized 'happy endings' in a lighthearted, but still creepy, kind of way.  While we ate lunch, we witnessed the massage girls standing in their slinky outfits, handing out leaflets.  One guy (I think he was Russian) skinny, white as snow, and wearing the shortest shorts I've ever seen, came sashaying up to a girl.  I watched their interchange, her touching him, him getting noticably excited.  It almost put me off my lunch.

We found the world famous Chaweng Stadium, the centre of Muay Thai world.  The fight we had come to see was taking place that night, but the price of tickets were going for $30 a piece.  That was way over our budget.  We kept walking down the strip, hoping to come across less-expensive tickets, but it wasn't meant to be.  We gave up on our Muay Thai ambitions and just walked the strip.  But Chaweng felt seedy.  We had walked the strip forever and it never seemed to end.  It offered the same t-shirts and trinkets, shop after shop after shop.  We never did see the beach.  Chris wasn't feeling well and longed to get back to our patch of paradise under the coconut trees.  We retreated back to Shady Resort where we stayed put for the remainder of our time on Koh Samui.

Civilization came to pay us a visit when Gemma and Alistair, two of Chris' work colleagues, drove up on their rented motorbike.  The couple were vacationing on the island as well, though they had splashed on an upscale resort.  We sat sipping drinks at Shady, and it was almost surreal to have a whole conversation in unbroken English (and with someone else beside Chris).  They had brought Chris an I Love Spreadsheets t-shirt (to add to his already eclectic collection) and filled us on what was happening in the real world.  It was a nice visit, but soon they were off to see the Giant Buddha.  Chris and I resumed our reclusive ways.

Hardcore Vacationing
We succumbed to complete relaxation.  Vacationing (not travelling) was now in effect, which meant we didn't have to go anywhere and we didn't have to do anything except eat and sleep.  Mostly we read books on our porch.  When I ran out of paperbacks to read I turned to my Kindle and to the classics.  I zipped through Treasure Island in a day and a half.  It seemed so fitting with the island setting.

Occassionally, when we got too hot just sitting, we would make our way to the ocean where we would float on the gently rolling waves.  We usually went for one long soak in the morning, and then a briefer one in the mid-afternoon.  We'd go shower off and dry off on the porch.  We'd hang our suits and towels out on the clothes line and they'd dry in no time at all. The heat was intense.  Around late afternoon the skies would darken and the rain would start falling.  Sometimes it would storm.  We enountered a few storms, some very strong, with torrential rains and fiercely flashing lightening.  One time I was cut off from Chris.  I was on the porch and Chris was at the restaurant having a beer.  We could see each other through the heavy sheets of rain, but we couldn't get to each other.  The storm seemed to last forever, the palm trees almost bending in half from the wind.  It reminded me of footage from hurricanes.  These tropical storms were no joke.  We were lucky we weren't caught out in any of them.

The road that led to the Family Mart and civilization was almost always under water.  We would have to hop and skip over stones or bricks that had been strategically placed.  I slipped one time in my flipflops and cut my toe open.  For the first time I had to pull the First Aid kit out of my bag.  After lugging it all this way, I was actually glad to use something in it.

The days really started to blend together.  I couldn't tell Tuesdsay from Saturday.  It didn't seem to matter which day it was.  I couldn't even tell you what month is was.  Every day was the same, starting off with breakfast with Mama.  My favourite breakfast was the pineapple pancake.  I usually washed it down with a coconut shake.  The fruit was unbelievable.  Mangos, pineapples, papayas, coconuts, bananas, watemelon...it was all fresh and plentiful.  Our meals consisted mostly of fresh veg, in the form of stir-fries, curries or soups.  Everything on the menu felt so nourishing, we should have been glowing with health.  The only thing that truly disgusted me was a fruit that was offered to me one day by Mama's husband.  He was cutting up some funny porcupine looking fruit.  He put something yellow and slimy into my hand, telling me 'Good, good' with convincing eyes.  Well it wasn't good.  I had never tasted anything like it.  Hot garbage is the easiest way to describe its taste, like something that was scraped off the side of a dumpster.  Unfortunately for Chris, he was around when this fruit was being handed out.  He swallowed his with a blank face but had to walk away.  I ended up grabbing a napkin and spat mine out.  This was our introduction to the durien, a fruit that tastes and smells like decaying flesh.  We've been smelling it in stands all throughout Asia.  Funnily enough, it's banned at hotels and at airports.  It's really that bad.

Chris had made some friends at Shady Resort.  They were two of the resident dogs.  One of them he really took a liking to, naming the fella Shindig (his term of endearment for any dog that resembles the labradoodle of his dreams).  If Chris saw them around he'd call out 'Shindig' and go running towards them.  They were nice enough dogs, willing to play with my canine-happy hubby.  There were other dogs about which weren't so welcome.  There were beach dogs (without collars we assumed they were strays).  Their smell was horrific.  They bathed in the heavy salt water, matting their fur even worse.  I could always tell when one of these dogs were nearby as the whole air turned.  I could smell the dogs clear across the beach.  To make it worse, they were friendly, and would often lay down beside us.  God love them though.  They were the dirty hippie dogs of Maenam Beach.  When it came time to go, Shindig and his partner came up onto our porch to say a quick goodbye.  Then they were off again.  I think I detected a tear in the corner of Chris' eye.  Yes, he needs a dog, bad.  Luckily that doesn't require me getting knocked up.  I'll allow a Shindig in our home, as long as he doesn't live up to the stupidity of his name.

Koh Samui was paradise for us.  It was filled with unabashed laziness.  Nothing truly productive happened in the 10 days we were there.  Eat, swim, read, nap, swim, eat, sleep; sometimes we did it in that order, sometimes not.  It didn't matter.  Nobody was asking anything of us.  I think back to living in Britain and those rainy days and waiting for Northern Rail to take me into Manchester--yes, I've earned it.  I've earned this laziness.  And Chris has too.