I Laughed for Entire Minutes

Today, we had massages. It was my fourth, Bryson's sixth. You'd think he'd have better decorum.

The girls usually pull a curtain around the mattresses, and then offer a pair of loose Thai pants. The better to massage you with, my dear. These girls handed us the pants and hung around. Bryson dropped his jeans and began to pull the pants on over his boxer-briefs, but one of the girls stopped him, motioning him to take off his underwear too.

Bryson paused a second. Then right there, in front of God and everybody, he pulled off his underwear.

And let me tell you, his shirt was not long enough, if you know what I mean.

The girls shrieked. I shrieked. "Bryson, what are you doing!?" Pink-faced, Bryson hid his stuff while the girls yanked the curtain shut. Then he pulled on his Thai pants, as I pounded the mattress on my hands and knees, tears burning my eyes, arrested by peals of insatiable laughter. Every five minutes during my massage, I'd remember and my stomach would pain with the effort of keeping the giggles down.

You had to be there. But you're probably glad you weren't.

Speaking of Islands

Speaking of islands, I can only think of ten that I've been to. In backwards order, they are as follows: Phuket, Koh Phi Phi, Koh Tao, Koh Samui, Koh Chang, Caye Caulker, Utila, Catalina, Victoria, and Grand Bahama. I'm not counting the British isles, or anything small and uninhabited. It just doesn't seem like that many, although they span six countries. Anyone else have a tally they'd like to offer?

Island Number Five

Bryson and I arrived on Phuket, Thailand's largest island and most touristy, yesterday afternoon. The boat we'd voyaged in on turned out to be an enormous tour boat, peopled by vacationers who had only come to Phi Phi for the half-day and were then returning to their resorts on Phuket. Thus, the port we docked upon turned out to be small and specifically oriented towards these richer tourists. There were no songtaews, the pickup taxis, or anything of that sort. Only expensive taxis and busses pre-filled with tour groups. We were being accosted from every side, and for a stressful half-hour we even considered finding a boat to take us to another island.

But there weren't any leaving from that stupid port, and so at last we relented and climbed in a taxi to one of the big beaches, Patong. This was an American-caliber taxi, and its cost was comparable as well. In Central America, me and my posse rode in shuddering jalopies with springs poking out of the cushions, swaying crucifixes, and machetes under the seats. Not that I prefer that, but we're budgeting here, dang it.

Patong turned out to be quite lovable, however, and I'm glad we didn't hightail it out on a boat to wherever. It was also crash-banged by the tsunami, most devastatingly, because there's so much crammed right onto the beach. Beautiful bungalows, high-rise resorts, seafood restaurants, pushcarts selling deep-friend you-name-it, and everywhere, tourists and Thais, on beach towels, beach chairs, wandering.

Most of the seafront buildings are in stages of part-built, but the beach itself is as lively as ever. We happen to be here during a tsunami-art celebration weekend, and all the grass beside the beach is decorated by sculpture. Some of it's odd and even questionable, but some pieces are thought-provoking. All the onlookers seemed jarred by the abstract collage of tsunami photos, thick with gesso and shades of brown, and by the clips from post-wave emails on the other side.





Today, after spending an unforgivable fifteen dollars on last night's meal, decided to try and only spend 500 baht today on food. Combined. That's about $12.50. Six bucks each. And you know what? it's ten-thirty in the evening now, and I thing we made it. Patong may be touristy, but among the resorts and tourist pubs there's a bustling local sphere that's even more enticing. It's like reading between the lines.

All day we doffed the restaurants for the pushcarts, and we tried many things we might never have. Plus, we gave our money to the people who need it most. Many of the people touting fare on the beach don't even have pushcarts; they balance a contraption on a wooden beam across their shoulders, with something heavy on either side, even the women. It must be horrendous. Over the course of the day we ate boiled peanuts, fresh mango with salt and sugar and chile, cream corn pastries, Thai pancakes, Tom Yam soup with fish, and an eclectic seafood-noodle salad. Bryson also ate chicken sausage, and a grilled chicken thigh with the foot still attached.



Tomorrow, I have no desire to go back to the restaurants. Our culinary adventures are too much fun, and much cheaper too.

Hot

Waiting for the ferry to take us to Phuket. it's hellishly hot out today, and my tender skin can't take it. I just had an Ovaltine shake, which sounds gross but is actually really refreshing. Now we're killing time. That's about all there is to say.

I Love This Dog



Look At What We Do For You People

Okay, This Time I Really Dove

Today was our big diving day, and to our grand appreciation the sky was perfect, even more cloudless than yesterday. We made sure to saturate ourselves with sunscreen and stayed under the canopy. Skin cancer just ain't our thing, and we're still pinkish from the snorkeling trip.





Although visibility wasn't as clear as I had hoped, the coral was teeming with life, and thus there was no dearth of joys to behold. Our first dive, around the Koh Phi Phi Le cliffs, included a swim through a narrow cavern. It was incredible, though just a tad claustrophobic. When we came out, there was a strong current inundating in the opposite direction, and we had to swim into it. After yesterday's swimming my thighs were complaining, and we all used up a good deal of air with our panting.

The second dive, off a couple cliffy islands a little farther out, was even better. There were so many fantastic varieties of fish, I can't even begin to describe. When you're down there, you're soaring over universes and universes, made up of worlds that go on infinitely. Your eyes are zooming in on little event-fragments: a school of silvery fish swimming from something; a clown fish dipping in and out of its anemone host; a needly field of sea urchins; a vast page of fan coral, rooted by giant clams; two sea-green parrotfish, swirling around each other as if they're dancing. Fragment after fragment, and they goes on and on, and they're going on endlessly all over the bottom of the ocean.

We saw a scorpionfish, or stonefish, the most venomous thing on earth, so I've heard. We saw a cuttlefish, which are funny guys when they're living. The beach at Koh Tao was strewn with their corpses, the oblong bone that remains, which we buy at Petsmart for our birds to gnaw at. We saw lionfish, those fascinating poisonous wonders, striped with tragic spikes. In quick instants, we saw a moray eel and a manta ray. Best of all, we saw our first shark. Not a common reef shark, but a beautiful leopard shark, reclining in a sandy place. We hovered over him for a few minutes, in awe.

Even though there was mayonnaise on my sandwich, the dive shop was great, and the second dive, my ninth overall, was the best I've ever done. That shark. I wonder what he's doing now, or whom he's eating.

Tomorrow afternoon we leave this heavenly place for Phuket, which might be the most touristy place in Thailand, after the sex trade capital of Pattaya. We plan on doing a jungle trek in the national park opposite the island, if possible. Then, back to Bangkok, and then, off to Cambodia for a few days. Then shopping in Bangkok. Then, Sky.

That was a pun, if you didn't get it. You might not.

What You Like?

There's this guy with a grill cart in between here and our room, and it's the most absurdly stocked thing ever. Besides your usual chicken, fish, beef and pork kabobs, there's fish cakes, fried calamari, deep fried chicken wings, whole charred catfish, hot dogs, and a good deal of stuff I can't even recognize. All on sticks. And there are two new developments from yesterday evening:

1. Grilled squid. The entire squid, head and beak and tentacles and all. On a stick, naturally.

2. Little roasted birds. They actually look exactly like plucked, roasted chicken, the kind you buy at Vons under the heater for about seven bucks. However, these guys would fit in the palm of your hand. Upon seeing them, Bryson exclaimed, "Look! Mini chickens!" Then he looked at me. "Not chickens," he concluded. We think it's unfortunate but likely that they might be roasted black and yellow pesty birds, the kind we enjoy looking at and not eating.

Kick It

Last night Bryson and I ordered a whiskey bucket, which consisted of a smallish bottle of Song Sem (Thai whiskey), two cokes, two glasses, and a bucket of ice, and we sat ringside for a kickboxing match at a local club. The two Irish guys sitting with us convinced us that it was all fixed, but it was fun to watch. No blood.

One Fish, Two Fish

Today we splurged fifteen dollars each on a day-long snorkeling trek that was exceedingly worth it. It took us all around this island and the next, pausing for snorkeling breaks at a variety of sensational places. We did get to see Maya Beach, and the beach itself is just a tiny strip of sand, although the lagoon is lovely. Apparently The Beach filmmakers must have shot a different beach, and then shot the lagoon as if the two were connected. Hollywood is magical, yes?



Back on the dock we were lucky enough to realize that the fish here go wild for banana fragments, and so we stuffed some small ones in the pocket of Bryson's swim trunks before we jumped in. While other snorkelers merely hovered over the elusive fishies, they literally swarmed around us, in beautiful arcs, dozens of different species nipping our bananas and our fingers. We had purchased an underwater disposable camera that almost cost as much as one snorkeling ticket, but that'll be worth it as well if the pictures turn out.

The sky was perfect all day, bright blue with billowy clouds, and despite our sunscreen we both left the boat with stinging sunburns.

Going and Going and. . .

Bryson and I survived a cross-peninsula trek that turned out to be pretty insane. We didn't know what to expect of the night boat, and if the boat had been full, they would have been horrendous. The entire upper story of a medium-sized boat was wall to wall with mattresses, in two rows on the floor, with a pathway towards the bathroom in between. The mattresses were really foam pads covered by sheets, about half the width of a typical twin bed. Edge to edge. Which means if the boat had been full, we would have been hips to heads to elbows with stinky strangers. I can't even sleep on a bus or plane if I'm facing a stranger, even if it's more uncomfortable to turn away.



But luck was on our side, and the boat was half empty. Bryson slept across from me, and we took up two flimsy mattresses each. We doped ourselves silly with Thai Dramamine and fell into restless sleep.

Eight hours later, we were woken in still-darkness to clamber off the boat. Next came a bus that, following several long and dilatory hiatuses, took us to the dock just in time to miss the boat to Koh Phi Phi. It was three hours until the next. We waited it out in a cafe, which wasn't so bad. I read an entire book, House of Sand and Fog, this morning (depressing as all get out). after that. a pickup taxi took us to a different dock, although I'm unsure why, and we zipped in a stuffy boat cabin with dozens of other people out to Koh Phi Phi.

This Beach

I might of mentioned this earlier, but Koh Phi Phi is where The Beach was filmed. Not on the larger island where we're staying, Koh Phi Phi Don, but on the smaller, uninhabited and more spectacular one, Koh Phi Phi Le. KPP Don was absolutely devastated by the tsunami. Most of the newsfeed we Americans got from Thailand came from here, or from the enormous neighboring island, Phuket.

I've been drawn to this island ever since I heard of it, curious to see both its legendary beauty, and the aftermath of the tsunami. It's been nine months now, and word on the street was that it's all been cleaned up rather well by now.

This coast is strewn with islands that look far different than those on the other coast. There they were more volcanic looking, cone-shaped and woodsy. Here they're big rocky, rectangular wedges jabbing out of the sea, often at impossible angles. It's a dreamworld. As the boat pulled up to dock at KPP Don, everyone on the boat was in awe. The beach itself is littered by rocks, and the sand is more tan than white. But it was the sheer immensity of the cliffs that was so jarring, the improbable shapes, the contrast of limestone and granite and blue water and green forest.

We dodged all the people at the dock accosting us and touting guesthouses, as we always do, preferring to find our own. The Island is a crazy amoeba-blob with a thin part in the middle that is the main village. It only takes a couple minutes to cross it. When we reached the far side, hoping for a pretty beach, all we found was a sort of wasteland, of garbage and rocks, debris and buildings that looked bombed out. We looked and we knew. We knew it had to be.

Walking back through town, it was obvious that many of the shop-strips were brand new. The roof shingles were perfect, the cement freshly poured.

We hoped, of course, that the jewelry (not the Brad kind) here would be less expensive than elsewhere, but unfortunately that's not the case. I bought my sister a gorgeous bracelet I probably could have purchased for half the price in Bangkok. Yet we know that this island needs the money, and spending here is the best thing we can do. Some of the shopkeepers even have signs pleading in English, "Please, I just reopened my shop, I have three children and nothing else, the tsunami took everything."

The tide was startlingly low this evening, and we took a walk out on the crunchy seafloor rocks to look for living things. There were little fish that clung to the bottom, little crabs, and little else. As I walked over crumbled shells and fragments of pale coral, I couldn't help but think of bones.

So on and So Forth

Halfway through this shaken-out grey sheet of a day, and I'm back on the internet while Bryson's having a massage.

We were afraid that the sea would be too rough for the boat, but fortunately the wind has died down and the boat will indeed be departing. Bryson has a cold and so he's been in a pretty rotten mood.

The forecast for Krabi and Phuket, where we were heading in hopes of sunshine, have scattered thunderstorms for their five-day forecasts. We knew this might happen when we made the decision to come during rainy season. I'm trying to be thankful for the three days of beach-sun we got to enjoy.

Ouch

I miss my dog so much it hurts. I was doing okay, but last night he padded into my brain and now I can't stop thinking about him. I know he's fine where he is, and he's being loved by human and dog alike, but I can't help but feel guilty that my leaving caused him any level of pain and distress.

Besides that, I'm bored senseless. It's mucky and windy outside, and the sea is a mess. Bryson and I don't leave until this evening; however, we had to check out at ten am. Now it's only one, and we've got our backpacks with us, and we're running out of things to do. Everything in this small island town is oriented towards the outdoors. If it was sunny and the sea was safe, we'd be kayaking or snorkeling, maybe diving again, or hiking the length of the island. Instead, we're stuck hopping from restaurant to restaurant, drinking fruit shakes until we feel sick. Internet here is also triple the cost it is on the big islands, or on the mainland, and so I can't even putter around on here very long. Bleh.

I'm just hoping the Andaman coast is experiencing a delightfully dry spell. We've already missed out on a number of things we wanted to do because of the weather. And who knows when we'll ever get back.

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I Dove I Dove I Dove

Today we went scuba diving! It's been far too long. We sprung for the refresher course, which was taught half in a boat and half underwater, at a place called Japanese Gardens swarming with fish. By the end the sea was too choppy to dive a second time, and so we're saving to dive on the Andaman coast. And yes, that's where the tsunami hit. We're taking a night boat there tomorrow.

The boat back to shore was the craziest kind of adventure, nearly capsizing over and over. But it was all in goodfun, right? It's difficult to be scared when you can see the shore the whole time, and when you've just gotten out of the water anyway.

Tonight is the night of the full moon party, on the next island over. We're not there. But everyone else is, and thus this island is quiet. Bryson looked over at me at dinner tonight and said, "I feel like an old couple. Everyone else here is old."

But really, any regret I feel is contrived. I don't like that kind of thing unless I'm with my girlfriends, and even then I'm not into tons of strangers, into being hit on by dreadlocked stinkers, into psychedelic drugs. So it's okay that I'm here, in this internet cafe, instead of at one of the biggest parties in the world. Really.

Scary

Forever and Ever and Ever

It's tragic, what I'm forgetting. It's all happening so fast! No, but seriously. After we'd spent a few hours at Maenom, we rode homeward and stopped halfway at Big Buddha Beach. By then we weren't interested in the beach. Big Buddha is an enormous golden sculpture of Buddha, even larger than the Shiva shrine. At the base was a Buddhist monk in mustard-colored robes offering bricks and tiles to write on, for a donation. Since the temple around the Buddha was in a continuous state of construction, the bricks and tiles would be used in the building of it, and the messages upon them would forever be part of something holy. Bryson and I were in a very sweet mood.



Kirsten Loves Animals

After that, we decided to visit the crocodile farm by the airport. Since the admission was the equivalent of about six American dollars, I was skeptical at first, but then I saw monkeys in the distance. Since I'm a sucker for monkeys (just ask Bryson), I forked over.

The show itself was worth it. We sat behind a fence around a pool of water, with a cement island in the center, inhabited by five crocodiles. The rest of the audience consisted of two backpacker girls, and three white man/hooker couples. We proceeded to shout, squeal, and joyfully applaud as an ebullient Thai guy dragged the crocs around by their tails, rode them, reached in and opened up their throats (odd), and finally stuck his head inside the largest one's mouth.



Afterward, I was allowed to touch its tail.



The rest of the place was set up like a zoo. A dingy, sad zoo, although probably a nicer one by Thailand standards. The monkeys were housed in smallish cages, although the swingers, the ones with prehensile everythings, seemed to be having a grand old time. The other were crab-eaters, the exact kind that carried the Ebola virus into Washington and had to be put down by the hundreds. I'm not obsessed with Ebola, I swear. Anyway, for a couple of baht we could reach into a bin filled with bananas and lychees, and then offer them to the monkeys. They'd accept anything right out of our hands. They were so human they made my stomach lurch.