Today was a little bumpy. I woke up early to pack and have breakfast before my 7am shuttle to the port for my 8am ferry to Koh Lanta. I was sitting in the lobby on the dot of 7 awaiting my pickup. When they didn’t show by 7:15 I got concerned and asked reception to call and ensure they were on their way. They couldn’t reach the car company but assured me they were on their way - probably stuck in traffic. At 7:30 I really started to worry. The hotel is about 30 minutes from the port and the boat was scheduled to leave in 30 minutes. Missing the boat would mean cooling my heels in Phuket for 6 hours and arriving late in Koh Lanta. Again, I was assured not to worry. At 7:45, reception started to worry. They told me the company had called and left a message. Apparently, one of the passengers either had more luggage than anticipated or brought a friend along unscheduled (I couldn’t quite understand). At any rate, there wasn’t enough room in the van for me so they just went to the port without me. Genius. Again I was assured not to worry - the boat would wait for me. While I was relieved to hear this, keeping 300 people waiting on my behalf didn’t seem like a solid plan B. Reception called a driver who showed up just after 8 and shuttled me to the port like a New York taxi driver, weaving in and out of lanes, even crossing into oncoming traffic to overtake cars and motorbikes. We pulled up to the boat at 8:40 I hopped on board. As soon as I’m on they apply a blue sticker to my chest. It feels like the scarlet letter until I realize that every other passenger is wearing one. They’ve branded us, like cattle, for easy sorting when we arrive. Yellow sticker - you’re spending the day on Koh Phi Phi. Yellow with a number on it - you’ve also purchased an excursion. Blue like me - on to Koh Lanta (aka: cool kid).
I headed straight to the top deck for the best views and photo opps. I sat next to a Chinese couple who were a little put out that I’d asked them to move their camera bag so I could sit down. You know what’s worse than a French tourist? A Chinese tourist. A few minutes into the ride the Chinese guy next to me whips out a portable speaker to entertain his friends. That little thing was powerful and he treated us to such classics as “Take my breath away” and “I’ve had the time of my life.” I wondered if China could be that far behind the times (not out of the question) or if this guy just had terrible taste. When we pulled up to Koh Phi Phi 2 hours later I where I would transfer to another boat to Koh Lanta, I was pretty over the medley. But the views were pretty spectacular. Little fishing boats and big cruisers hummed about little inlets carved out of the rocky island. The water was turquoise. And I started to get excited.
The second boat was smaller and faster. The only outdoor seating was on the narrow decks on either side of the boat. I found a spot between some Germans and a crew of French guys who looked like they’d been drinking since the night before. The deck was narrow and with back against the wall my feet dangled over the side. The sea is blue the way I’d imagined it would be and warm as it douses me over and over again. The water is nearly irresistible. I start feeling the pull to jump in, to just slip under the guard rail and let myself fall of the side. I spot the life life buoy hanging from the rail beside me and think it would be a good opportunity for the crew to practice their “man overboard” drill. I’m guessing their skills have grown kind of rusty. Somehow I managed to stay safely seated on the boat. I deserve a medal. At the front of the boat a small Thai flag flaps in the wind above a makeshift alter of those yellow flowers I see throughout Thailand that bear an uncanny resemblance to dandelions. I’’m sitting outside the captain’s cabin and notice this boat is equipped with side mirrors. Is that in case a speed boat sneaks up on us and we have have to move aside to let him pass? The great mysteries of the universe. As we approach Koh Lanta I’m in a state of utter bliss. It’s breathtaking, all i imagined it would be. A long white beach circles the island and the interior is forested. It’s rough and sparse and I’m in love. I wonder if there’s a Facebook quiz “which Thai island are you?” I am Koh Lanta.
Bliss is a persistent feeling on this journey. The only thing missing is Dennis. As much as I wish he was here and intend to come back with him, I’m glad I took this trip alone. When bad things happen to me (as they did before this trip) this is my way of healing. Self-reliance has a powerful curative effect. Having to figure things out, navigate a foreign land, entertain yourself with only your own imagination and instinct is a pretty magical experience. When the shit hits the fan some people go to the mountains or the woods. I go to Southeast Asia. I have been confronted on this trip with the essence of myself and it feels so empowering.
The hotel is nice but lacks the serenity of Rachamanka. I fear few places will ever measure up. But I rent a bike and set out for Long Beach, which I’ve read is one of the nicest spots on the island. It’s 3:00 by the time I set out so I grab a quick meal at the first place I see (a simple stir fry of chicken, veggies and garlic which is delicious) and continue the journey. Long Beach looked really close on the tourist map I grabbed but as I pedal along in the blazing mid-day sun I remember that tourist maps are not drawn to scale. It’s a good 10 miles away and I need to take a water break. I find a 7-11 (we export only the worst of America), grab my water, and take my place in line. When it’s my turn I’m about to step up to the counter when a woman who’d been looking around in the aisle behind me pushes me aside and steps to the counter. I tell her that there is a line and I had been waiting. She tells me in thick Russian accent “I do not understand.” Her daughter stands beside her. “You’re very ride,” I say. “I do not understand” she replies. Bullshit. Every grown adult knows how to wait in line, whether they like it or not. “You must be from Russia,” I say. I know she understands but she can't blow her cover now. I tell the woman at the register to check her out ahead of me - she’s obviously in a terrible hurry. Then I take it a step too far. I realize that her daughter understands me. Without thinking I tell her “don’t grow up to be like your mother. Aspire to be better than that.” She looks scared. The Russian woman scowls. The register next to her opens up and I check out before she leaves. Back on my bike I wonder if she’s going to mow me down as I pedal slowly up this hill. I’ve been learning about Buddhism and reading a book about it and I feel like I’ve really started to embrace the key principles but this incident makes me realize I still have a lot of work to do to reach a state of true zen.
After passing some interesting sites, notably a mosque that was broadcasting a call to prayer (this is one of the only places in Thailand that is predominantly Muslim) I finally reach the beach. Although I’d read that lounge chairs were available for rent, there are none in sight. Also, I realize I didn’t pack a towel but I’ve come too far to turn back. I head to sea for a swim. I float for a while, watching the clouds slip slowly through the sky, then make my way out and lay on a makeshift towel of my sweaty tee shirt and shorts. I open my book and start reading and out of the corner of my eye I see movement. I look but there’s nothing there. Then I see it again. And again. I realize there are little holes in the sand everywhere and that ghost crabs live there. Ghost crabs are sand colored and hard to spot but once you notice them you realize they’re everywhere. And they’re terrifying. They look like spiders with shells and they can move. There’s one right next to my hand and after a minor freak out I decide to repent for the Russian incident by making peace with them. I calm myself down and being reading again. When the sun starts dipping in the sky I make my way back to the hotel at a leisurely pace, stopping when something catches my eye. I stop to take a picture of a man walking his cow his cow down the street. I stop to buy postcards. I stop for water in what I realize is the Thai boxing stadium in Koh Lanta. I only realize this because a truck outside is covered in a banner advertising tonight’s match and plays a recorded advertisement over and over in a loop. Interestingly, the recording is in English, Australian English to be precise. Eventually the truck starts making it’s way slowly through the town, announcing to all that the match is taking place tonight and “should not be missed.” I suppose they need to attract the tourists to fill the stadium (although I take a peek and there couldn't be more than 50 seats in there). I consider for a minute going to see the match - I’ve heard from other travelers that it’s a unique cultural experience - but it starts at 9 and that’s just too late for me. One of the things I’ve learned on this trip is that when I’m free from the constraints of work and every other responsibility in my life my natural rhythm is to wake up around six and fall asleep at 9:30 or 10. I’m going to try to keep that up when I get home - we’ll see how it goes.
Now it’s 8pm and I’m relaxing on my porch with a cold Singha. There is no wine to speak of in this country and when you find it, it’s shockingly expensive. But beer is growing on me as a little end of day celebration. Tomorrow I’ll be exchanging my bike for one with a motor and really touring the island. This is the last leg of the journey before heading back to Bangkok to catch the flight home and that feels right. As amazing as this has been, there is no place like home and I’m really starting to miss my people.
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