Koh Phangan
As I predicted in my last post, the rest of my time in Thailand was a pleasant continuation of the previous few weeks: lots of eating, motorbiking, massages, lounging around, reading, and Skyping with friends and family.
The one exception to this life of leisure was a hike from Chaloklum (a fishing village on the north coast of the island) to Bottle Beach, a secluded stretch of sand accessible only by boat or a trail through the jungle. The blurb about the hike on my Koh Phangan map simply said the trek took "about an hour" and had "great views". What the map failed to mention is that the trek is actually a 90-minute, P90X-esque death march through the jungle over a small mountain. Fortunately, the trail is easy to follow; you just have to keep an eye out for the plastic water bottles carefully placed on tree branches and bushes (presumably by previous hikers). Follow the litter, basically. I'm not sure if this is why Bottle Beach is named as such, but it seems like a good enough reason to me.
What made the hike so strenuous is that the elevation was constantly changing (in either direction). Trees and vines were my life-saving friends that I grabbed with conviction and fear as I descended the precarious slopes. On the other hand, when I was ascending some of the steeper slopes, I found myself on hands and knees, almost rock climbing. One wrong step or one slip-up (which is more likely than usual given how exhausting the trek is) would have left me at the bottom of a ravine or mangled on the rocks below. About a third of the way through, I realized that going by myself was not the smartest decision I've ever made.
Nevertheless, an hour and a half after I started, I emerged triumphantly from the jungle. I was sweaty, shirtless, water-less, and covered in dirt and scratches, a stark contrast to the bronzed European sunbathers who were lounging on the beautiful beach in front of me. As I made my way to the closest resort for a massive bottle of water and a coffee shake, I came across a water taxi driver who asked if I wanted a ride back to Chaloklum. I agreed emphatically.
A couple days before I was leaving the island, I discovered that there was a gym/bar/restaurant (Haad Yao Fitness) just a minute's drive up the road from me, so I decided to check it out the following afternoon. There were no other guests at the time, leaving me with sole use of the entire gym. I had a quite decent workout, which felt great after several weeks of muscle atrophy. Afterwards, as I sat at the bar with my strawberry protein shake, I started chatting with the owner, Peter, an expat from Holland, and his Thai wife, Nang. We talked about the island and business and Americans and San Francisco. I really enjoyed the vibe of the place and the friendliness of the owners, so I went back later that night for dinner, since the restaurant (not the gym) is actually how I initially found the place on TripAdvisor. Low season is starting now, so from 8:00 on, I was the only guest in the restaurant. Peter and Nang invited me to sit with them, their waiter, and their friends as people played pool, watched TV, and smoked cigarettes and weed. I sat on the couch and devoured some massaman curry (awesome) and fried cashews (even more awesome) as everyone relaxed. Nang and I chatted for a while and she told me about how she learned to cook from her mother and everything she makes, including the curry I was eating, is from a recipe from either her mother or her grandfather. Between the food and the TV and the conversation and the friends that came and went, I felt like I was sitting in a family's living room for dinner. The evening was seemingly minor compared to all the adventures one could have in Southeast Asia, but it was exactly what I needed at the time. Thanks, universe!
As luck would have it, my last night on the island was also a big night for a local, multi-day festival in Thongsala, the unofficial capital of the island. The festival had a carnival feel to it, with rides for kids, carnival games with stuffed animal prizes, a small ferris wheel, vendors hawking clothes and accessories and toys, a large concert venue with a Thai rock band, and, of course, dozens and dozens of food carts. The best part is that the crowd was almost entirely locals. Seizing the opportunity of a plethora of cheap food, I gorged myself (spring roll on a stick, some of the best pad thai I've ever had, chocolate cake, and two fruit shakes) for less than $4.
The next morning, as I packed up my things and prepared for two days of travel, I actually felt an emotion I wasn't expecting: a little bit of sadness. I had gotten so used to the island and its roads and its towns and its beaches and its parties and its seedy underbelly. I had found my favorite places for almost every want or need. I had met expats and locals and seen them enough that they knew who I was. In town, I saw one of the guys from Shiralea; at the festival, I ran into the nurse from the clinic who cleaned my wounds every day; at a Saturday night party at Pirates Bar, I ran into Peter and one of his friends. In a relatively short amount of time, I felt like I had worked myself just a little bit into the fabric of the island's culture, but now it was time to go.
The first day of travel was just for the ferry ride back to the mainland and the bus ride from Don Sak to Surat Thani, a reversal of the voyage I had taken a few weeks prior. Surat Thani is not a tourist destination, but rather a stopover for travelers either going to or returning from the islands. As I attempted to find some dinner downtown, I realized that nothing was in English and I couldn't be sure of the vegetarian status of anything I saw, either from the street vendors or in the restaurants. I eventually gave up and went to an Italian chain restaurant; even though my meal was actually quite good (and spicy!), I realized that I had been spoiled thus far by visiting only very touristy parts of the country. Once I left that bubble, I was having trouble just finding food, which is a sobering experience.
The next morning, I hopped on a one-way flight to Kuala Lumpur care of my new BFF, AirAsia, a low-cost airline serving Southeast Asia and some surrounding countries. (Based solely on the prices of my tickets, I've concluded that you can fly anywhere in the area for about $35 an hour, even if you buy your tickets at the last minute. Sure, they nickel-and-dime you on all the other expenses, but my seat upgrade cost only $8!) Truth be told, before I could hop on said flight, I was held by immigration and forced to pay a 500 baht (about $16) fine because I had overstayed my 30-day visa by one day. I briefly considered using a calendar to explain to the immigration officer that I was, in fact, leaving on Day 30 exactly, but decided to shut my mouth instead and pay the
Since my flight to KL was one-way and separate from my round-trip flight to Bali, I had the humorous experience of walking out of the airport (from the customs area) and walking immediately back in (to check in for my next flight). There was enough time between my flights to stop in to one of the airport's clinics for my daily medical care, where I learned that the clinic was not much cleaner than the rest of the airport, whose hygiene leaves much to be desired. As I walked around the terminal and got some food, I became convinced that janitors, trash cans, and even napkins are considered passé in Malaysia.
Ubud
After landing in Bali, I was met by Gusti, the brother of the woman who runs Dewa Bungalows, my new home. During the 45-minute drive from Denpasar to Ubud, we talked a lot and he was very grateful for the opportunity to practice his English. As he drove in a style that I would describe as lane-markings-are-just-suggestions, I looked around wide-eyed as this new world enveloped me. I was overcome, yet again, by that familiar combination of excitement and nervousness that materializes in me whenever I find myself in a new place in the world.
Fast forward forty-eight hours. I'm sitting on a perfect little patio in the dark, pecking away on my laptop, smelling the incense burning next to me, listening to bugs buzzing and dogs barking and cats prowling over thatch roofs. This place (both the city and my lodging) already feels very comfortable to me and I'm feeling pretty confident that I'll be extending my reservation to the end of my time in Indonesia. I already have some thoughts on Ubud, but I'll save those for another day and another post. In the meantime, I will leave you with one of the reasons why I will be staying at Dewa for a while: the view from my patio (in a city where residences over one story tall are a rarity).
Finally, as is possibly becoming a custom, here is my current reading list:
- Bali & Lombok by Lonely Planet
- The Lunatic Express: Discovering the World via Its Most Dangerous Buses, Boats, Trains, and Planes by Carl Hoffman
- Nightfall and Other Stories by Isaac Asimov
