Thailand
September 27, 2019
It’s astounding how much trust you have to give over to strangers when you travel. It’s that vulnerability and at the same time the heightened awareness that makes traveling the rewarding experience that it is. You’re forced to take someone at their word, or not, based on your instincts alone. Will I get screwed or will I be fine? Roll the dice and find out. When the language and culture are so vastly different from anything you’ve ever experienced then every moment feels like a major and memorable one. Bangkok, Thailand is the most foreign place I’ve ever ventured. Navigating the airport then taxi to the hotel was a trial that I felt proud to pass - something that you wouldn’t think twice about in an English speaking country.
A bowl of Ramen at 2:00 am and our adventure has begun. Three hours of sleep and we’re exploring the fast-paced beautiful insanity of Bangkok’s local markets. The sounds of a thousand knives chopping, carts rolling, motos honking, and Thai chatter is overwhelming in an exciting, comforting way. My senses are on overload with the intensely bold colors, the seafood sweet spice smells and the din of a Thai Thursday morning. I’m alive, every sense stimulated and open, ready for what’s next. The mounds of spices, chilis, sea life, exotic fruits - all new and fascinating. We’re later whisked away in a tuk-tuk to plan our next two weeks of life. Some tourist Buddhist temples and small denominations of bhat later and we’ve seen the busy Bangkok to our sense’s maximums. Beautiful, bustling, breathing, Bangkok.
September 28
We’re sitting on the night train. Drinking coffee, eating the leftovers of the five-course Thai dinner that we cooked for ourselves while learning from Purida, the founder of the Old Town Thai Cooking School. Two days in Bangkok felt like a week. Exploring local markets, a feast for the senses, slowly being replaced by indoor air-conditioned supermarkets. Mounds of expertly crafted hundred-year-old recipe shrimp paste, chili jam, turmeric roots, fermented fish and soybean oils, fried fish, and cats with crooked tails that might like to try a bite. We learn from Purida the names and uses of exotic veggies familiar in name but not in shape, size, or color. Baby eggplants the size of grapes, tiny chilis that would make you breathe fire, long sour squash, and the freshest kaffir limes.
We gather them up in our basket, listening to our personal Thai Iron Chef all the while. Back at the school we are given recipes and shown how to prepare and cook egg rolls, Tom Yum soup, pineapple fried rice, green curry from scratch, and bananas in coconut milk. Once we embrace the surreal pleasure of a private cooking lesson we are enamored by the sensory gift to ourselves. Just like the morning Thai coffee and mani-pedi splurge. We joke that this is our honeymoon. You and me? Why yes, sure, why not?
Sitting on the floor of the train station taking it all in, accepting all of our decisions thus far - not good or bad - just right. Laughing on a night train with our own blue curtained bunks. We’ll wake up in Chumphon, take a boat to Koh Tao, and start another chapter to our adventure.
September 30
Our money and our trust handed over to Tum, our Thai mom, we step off the train from Bangkok, onto the bus to Chumphon, onto the boat to Koh Tao, and into the next leg of our Thai adventure. A man holding a sign with Krista’s name, something I’ve seen before but never experienced, summons us to his taxi, a black pickup truck we are all too happy to sit in the bed of and watch the narrow, winding island streets of Mae Head fly by. We arrive at Buddha View Dive School a few minutes later to meet our instructor and settle into a new home for the next three days. Unlike the busy but locally authentic streets of Bangkok, Koh Tao is highly tourism-driven island life. Beautiful, simple, but not a reflection of a local Thai community. That’s okay though because it’s an international community centered around diving, so plenty of interesting people to meet.
The narrow streets lined with shops, restaurants, and dive schools are steadily buzzing with motos and remind me of every small island town I’ve been to in the tropics. Nicaragua and French Polynesia come closely to mind. Class begins today - now. We breeze through four hours of PADI dive videos while running in place and doing stretches and lunges to keep ourselves awake and exercised, then take the practice quizzes in time to watch the sunset and grab some dinner. Pad Thai, Chang beer, and adorable Thai restaurant kiddos to entertain us and day one is complete.
October 1
I am a SCUBA diver! I did the diving thing! A whole new underwater world opened up to me and the potential I give to it! Cool! Krista was unable to complete her final two dives due to extreme head congestion but can do so within a year to still earn her certification. Great! With great enthusiasm, I am greeted back at Buddha View with a set of keys and a grinning Krista. “I got us a scooter!” Excellent. Krista and I scoot the afternoon away seeing all the roads and views Koh Tao has to offer. She confidently ascends and descends the steep, winding, and pothole-ridden roads to each panoramic point where we ditch the moto to hike the paths to take in all the sights. The dense tropical bush rolls into the giant-sized boulders, creating cliffs where there would be beaches. The specks that are snorkelers make lazy circles through the intense clear turquoise waters. From our paradise perch, fruit smoothies in hand, we gaze out onto the bays and beyond - the vast expanses only limited by what our imaginations can conjure. With languid steps, we descend our paradise tower and buzz our scooter along to a beach-side bar to drain our first glasses of wine and look on with great entertained concern as a group of Thai men labor to lower a longboat down the boat ramp and out to sea. Many efforts are made and we cheer when finally the longboat is freed and then retrieved. We drain our wine, return our scooter, and watch the sunset and the offshore lightning storm from our Buddha Bar bean bags. We’re laughing, the mood light and candid as we casually explore our little bay, the night quiet and stars blinking. Our time in Koh Tao comes to a close, memories made, certificate earned, island time lived, and now on to Phuket.
October 2
12 hours and a taxi ride, a ferryboat ride, another ferryboat ride, a shuttle bus, followed by another shuttle bus and we stumble into the Patong Premier hotel, our home base for the next three nights. We crossed the southern part of the country, island hopping from Koh Tao to Koh Pha Ngan to Koh Samui, landing in Surat Thani and heading southwest until we reached Phuket. Our first night feels overwhelming - so many bright lights and loud noises and crowded streets. So we opt out and stay cool in our room. Besides, we have to get up early for our big speed boat tour in the morning.
October 3
This is one of those experiences when I ask myself why I travel. We are sheep, herded onto a shuttle bus, onto a speed boat and then showed things like islands with monkeys and beaches from movies, poked and prodded onto crowded islands where the purpose is to buy things and pose for photos. You can’t swing a cat without hitting a wide-eyed foreign tourist. And there are a lot of cats to swing here. Everything is beautiful. The grey-black abrupt cliffs with lush green palms enveloping every inhabitable inch of land. But the beauty is cheapened by the absolute hoards of humanity posing and consuming and writhing in every breathable space. Not an authentic moment or experience to be had today. And that’s why I travel - for those authentic moments. So then it begs the question, why did we come here? Also, how else would we choose to explore here, to get to know locals, Thai life and culture? To feel a part of something here? Short of learning Thai, moving here and finding a job - something I’m not going to do - I think varying degrees of extreme tourism is our best option. We may be in the midst of the most touristy places and experiences I’ve ever been and had. But again it comes down to the moments. Watching the countryside go by and witnessing rural Thai life from a window, Asking questions to locals that speak a little English to glean a little insight. Indulging in hour-long Thai massages that cost $6.00 with our new Dutch friend. Walking mile after mile, block after block of street shops and open-air food markets. The people-watching is primo! So another reminder to be present, live in the moment, and just take it all in. I have a good life here and at home. So enjoy every moment.
October 5
I’ve always said that if I had one superpower it would be to be able to speak and understand every single language. Then travel would always be accessible, enjoyable, and learning about a place and its people would be truly possible. That’s all I ever really want out of travel - a unique experience, a genuine connection. Doing or seeing something that not every Joe-Schmo tourist gets to see or do. And those memorable, sometimes life-changing experiences embody the true spirit of travel for me. The ability to know a place and its people just a bit deeper than surface level. But that kind of digging takes time, effort, persistence, and some luck.
Island Tour day two - James Bond Island.
We are shuttled from our hotel, Patong Premier, to a dock where the 20 person speed boat awaits. Learning a lesson from yesterday, we hustle to the seats at the bow. We speed toward the first island, labeled James Bond Island, but first, we slowly drift by a smaller isle starkly jutting from the sea, bearing its scoured limestone cliff face and cave-like protrusions. Stunning! James Bond Island is touristy, but not overwhelmingly so like yesterday. Instead of being prodded off the boat and dropped into a boiling pot of human stew, the crowds are bearable and manageable, though still existent. I even venture into the murky water and swim out to touch the rough rock of James Bond Island itself, an act that little to no photo-posing tourists afforded themselves. A small win of quiet time.
Back on our speed boat, wind whipping through my tangled hair, we venture on to Ko Hong, Ko Panak, and Ko Lawa. Each island experience is unique and memorable. Ko Hong’s kayak tour takes us in and around the limestone alcoves and mini caves, giving us time to slow down and enjoy the views at a natural pace. Ko Panak is an isolated Muslim fishing village constructed entirely on raised wooden docks rooted to the side of the island rocks. The 10 rules of the island village include No pork, No dogs, No littering or drinking, Dress modestly, No youth gangs, drugs, or gambling, and No outside visitors for more than 5 days. All meat animals like chickens are kept in raised cages and private homes double as storefronts as tourists and visitors wind through the labyrinth of life just above the sea. It’s an authentic feeling glimpse into a way of life that I have not seen or even imagined before.
But our time here is up and we’re herded back on the boat for our final island excursion - the quaint and quiet beach of Ko Lawa. No shops, only one - yes just one! - other tour speed boat and a simple sandy beach with an easy on the eyes view of all the islands we just admired in Phang-Nga Bay. Krista goes for a coconut water on the sand while I go for a quiet, lazy swim to reflect on our time and take in the view. Coconut drained and scraped, Krista and I horse around in the water, taking a silly faux photoshoot in jest to make fun of the extreme and very ridiculous looking shoots we’ve witnessed here. Still maintaining our seats at the bow, we jet back to the pier and let our heads loll lazily on the shuttle ride back to the hotel. It pours rain as soon as we jump on and stops to produce a rainbow upon our departure. Nice!
A quick rest and my sunset lust drives us down to Patong Beach. A gentle surge of humanity simultaneously enjoying a sunset stroll, a sunset swim, a sunset run, a sunset parasail, a sunset photoshoot, and a sunset picnic. We meet our little Dutch girlfriend from yesterday's tour at a beachside bar and meet her new friends too. Two Indian men that run a tech and data conference company - whatever that means - and a baby Dutch boy (18 years old) out to snort, swallow, and bang his way through South East Asia. The former of the trio turn out to be fascinating tech nerds who would love to visit the states to see Silicon Valley and Vegas. The boss guy explains exactly how social media fixed and ruined our 2016 elections, exactly how and why data mining works and how and why data is the new oil. I am no tech genius and this guy clearly is so I’m happy to sit and listen to his musings and glean some useful information for future reference.
We graciously decline their invitations to go out and hit the town, opting instead for a delicious dinner and an excellent Thai grandma massage for a nightcap. In bed by midnight I accomplish a healthy buzz, people watching, people interacting, massage sighing, and no hangover. The same could not be said for our Dutch friend, who meets us in the morning for a quick hug goodbye and a report on the night. A surprise strip club, some low key choking, many drinks, and getting sick all over her sheets later, I am grateful and relieved with myself for being 30. Knowing better and declining the invitation.
October 8
We flew domestically to Chaing Mai from Phuket. The first night we walked to the Saturday night outdoor market to dazzle our senses with more rows of Thai food and souvenirs. I feast on a grilled tilapia fish and take in the sights, sounds, and smells. The mountain views and quieter atmosphere are a relief and welcomed.
On Sunday we wake early to catch our ride to the Chaing Mai Elephant Home Sanctuary. Officially, elephants are still considered a “mode of transportation” by the Thai government even though logging was banned in 1989. Looking for a new income, their owners, or caretakers, began the popular tourist attraction of elephant rides, trekking, or circus entertainment. While this is still surprisingly popular throughout Thailand - we saw evidence of it everywhere - now elephants are being showcased in retirement sanctuaries with the help of animal treatment activists and wizened tourists. Tours are led into the sanctuary where friendly, dirty, and hungry retired elephants are waiting to be fed sugarcane, vitamin balls, grass, and bananas. Followed by a cool mud bath, and then a rinse in the nearby river. They can eat up to 100kg of food a day depending on their size so they’re your biggest fan if you’re holding a basket full of the goods. They couldn’t care less about you once you’re out of the sweet stuff, more just obeying their “Mahon” or caretaker.
We all amble into the stream after loading up on mud the color of Thai tea. The stream’s water is cool and refreshing and we lightly play and splash the elephants until their slippery mud-caked skin turns tough, clay-gray, wrinkled, and wet. We excitedly watch them do real elephant things like eat, drink, trumpet in small squeaks and one long temper-tantrum blast. They spray themselves and us with water from their trunks and then cover themselves in dirt again. They are real Asian elephants - one of them 30 years old, like me! But she had a 4-day old baby (that we got to see!) and I did not. Their lives before this day and before this place - a total mystery to us. They say an elephant never forgets, and as I gaze into the eyes of each of these gentle giants, I try to imagine all that they’ve seen. Is this a life of peace and respite compared to the days of their indentured past? Have they ever known the wild? Or is this just another stop in their path of human indentured servitude of which they’ll never be free? I’d like to whole-heartedly believe the former because I couldn’t stomach blindly buying into a smoke and mirrors sanctuary turned torture scenario. So I assume to best and hope that these incredible gifts to the planet are at least mostly content with their lives. We visited with 6 of the 3,000 domesticated elephants in Thailand, with only 2,000 trumpeting freely in the forests with the dwindling populations of Clouded Leopards, Sun Bears, and Tigers. Animals that I can only associate with zoos and in my wildest dreams.
We move on in our current reality to the Sunday night walking street market. An actual labyrinth of miles and miles of white tents with every material folly you could imagine. Miles of elephant pants, rows of Pad Thai, trinkets and thing-a-ma-bobs and stuff and things as far as the eye could see and then some. We walk and shop and walk and eat and walk and shop some more for over three hours until my feet want to fall off and my back needs a stretch. We return home for a big sleep full of all the Thai food and Thai trinkets our bellies and bags could possibly hold.
The next day, Monday, is the longest and strangest tour of all. At 7:30am we are picked up at our hotel, Chana Place, and taken 1.5 hours north to a nondescript place with a “hot spring.” Many strange and memorable sights follow...
I never felt like I wanted it to be over - this experience. There were a few hard moments, a few things I wish I’d done differently, but for the most part, I think I lived in the moment, took it all in, enjoyed it for what it was. But here we are on the eve of our final day. The sun setting across the deep green forests and flooded rice fields that I’ll never know. The train from Chiang Mai was about 10 hours of time to sit and reflect and watch the countryside of Northern Thailand pass by the window. My first trip to Asia - a two week whirlwind of transportation, language, food, and scenery. We never stopped moving unless to sleep. We saw and did so many things and still left so many things undone. I’ll probably feel that about any place I can only spend two weeks in. Undone. But a great first glimpse into a strikingly new culture and world view.
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