Koh Pee Pee

Farewell Lil Island

All good things must come to an end. I took nature's vengeance upon me as a sign it was my time to travel onward. As Spirit was convinced that even a snake wouldn't push me out, She challenged me with her final effort in the form of something much, much smaller, and much, much more menacing. Sea lice had been consuming every inch of my flesh each time I dipped into the ocean. Her victory left me defeated with an incredibly itchy rash, only quelled with “Prickly Heat” powder and the knowledge that I needed to stay out of the ocean. Defeated, I had a final, celebratory swaray with my Big Tree crew coupled with one of the best sunsets I have ever seen. In this picture, you'll see three sea gypsy ships—Burmese people that live on the sea and its islands surrounding Burma and this part of the Thai coastline.

The next morning, I was off into the sunrise with a fellow traveling Swedish friend. We shared the desire to check out the infamous, picture perfect, and unfortunately THE most touristed islands of all of Thailand, Koh Pi Pi.

I found my Avatar

Walking home late at night with my Dutch friends from one of the many beach swarays so often thwarting the beach's solitude, we grazed the lick of the tide looking for any sign of luminescent phytoplankton. And there! A star's reflection or phytoplankton? There, but a glimpse of one...then another ...and a third! Like elusive fireflies in the deciduous forests of the Midwest, these plankton beckon one to follow their magic. We all succumbed to temptation, and swam. Plumes of phytoplankton in only 4 feet of water lit our bodies up with every movement. Each ocean-slowed step produced a wave of neon green while illuminating the surface of my thigh, knee, ankle and foot, sprinkling phytoplankton straight off my toes, like a superhero. Whoa. Paired with slow movements of the arms grazing the surface of the ocean, small glitters accented the angel-like choreography below. And then, she swam. Giggling the whole time, I was mesmerized. Udit's swimming splaying ribbons of luminescence just one foot below the darkness of night. Like glistening snow angels in motion.

Ladies and gentleman, I found my avatar.

Sea Snake or Moral Eel?

The idea of breathing underwater is genius. Words are difficult to come by for describing the sanctity and serenity of holding one's head straight in the water, wearing goggles, and being able to breath and swim with the fishes. Did we ever have gills? Why would we leave them behind? Seems like such a remarkably adaptive ability to be able to emit bubbles. And fins! What about fins!!! So cool to be able to float in the ocean, inches above coral, coasting through schools of tropical neon fish without making too many ruffles and waves on the surface. Well, for now, I bow to the gift of a blue and orange plastic snorkel. I guess I need to thank China.

My first ever snorkeling experience taught me how little of the world I have seen. What discoveries fly under the surface of a seemingly calm low tide! I stayed in water less than 3 meters deep, feeling a sense of wariness when the fishes became blurred by the clouds of sand and further depths. I saw fish I am only used to seeing in an aquarium and pet store—angel fish larger than a grapefruit, schools of little neon shiny fish, and many many black and white, zebra striped fish, occasionally accompanied by their yellow and black bumble-bee striped counterparts. Wow. What a world!

The next day, a new German friend and expert snorkeler Stephan insisted on swimming with me further out where live coral had survived last year's scorching hot water temps. Giddy inside, he showed by a blow fish just off shoreline. Further out, there were basketball sized fish, mostly parrot. I could hear them eating the coral—a symphony of percussion instruments to guide my way! Perched on a few underwater rocks not far offshore, were some live sea anemones? Or coral?, housing two clown fish!!! Yes, kids, I found Nemo!!!

Soon thereafter, Stephan insisted on trying his snorkel goggles (I had my swimming tinted goggles, so was forced to pinch my nose). What a difference a clear lens makes! I had to go back out to see what I missed! That was when I found a dairy cow colored moral eel? Sea snake? Hahahaha...can you tell I live in the Midwest?

Snorkeling is a new found love. And it feels good.

La natura en mi cama?

 

 

Blessings come in all shapes, sizes and animal disguises. For instance, the spirit which introduced itself as a flock of butterflies aloft in the tree next to my hammock, became a lil pinkish frog squatting on my mosquito net. Each day I was greeted with a new surprise as the spirit took form into larger and more exciting creatures. The second night in the frog had become a small gecko. In early morning of the third day, I was serenaded by the love songs of a large gecko lizard staring at me from the ledge above. The fourth day found me gawking at the hornbills outside my friend's bungalow.

Then things started to change...it was then that Spirit started to help me to confront some of my fears. I awoke in the middle of the night to the sounds of my plastic fruit bag (hanging off a nail in my bungalow) getting ruffled. While relieving myself, I was startled by a rat the size of a small chicken, or very large gecko [which, I suppose, fits more with the form changing theory]. My nursing mind started racing as to all the potential diseases this Spirit is accompanied by. None-the-less, I returned to bed, cocooning myself within my permetherined mosquito net.

Spirit must have been unimpressed by my lack of reaction to Mr. Rat, because the next night I was greeted with a being much smaller, and yet more fearful. Again, in the middle of the night I awoke to the rustle and stumbled out of my netted bed for the nightly bathroom ritual. This time, I took my torch hoping the beaming light would shine bright enough to disperse the fear and any Spirit form that accompanied it (electricity is only activated on the island for 4 hours each night). Surveying the ground for rats, I moved safely to the commode, turned and sat feeling a sense of accomplishment with the safe midnight journey. That's when I looked up. Straight ahead, a nice 5-inch long, black, shiny scorpion scuttled into the shadow of a crack in the wall. Oh My! Dorothy, we have a problem. We're not in Kansas anymore.

I survived. :)

Still, Great Spirit decided to one up herself once again. One of her last incarnations greeted me at hunting time—dusk--and again, it was on a trip to the commode. Now, feeling I must scan every inch of the bathroom before stepping into the gauntlet of nature, I opened the door, and looked up. And found I was in a standoff. There, not two feet above my head, two black beedy eyes stared back at me. The standoff began. We were still. No one moved. No one breathed. A few moments later, the 1.5 meter long, green and silver snake slowly turned back on itself and moved to my left, away from the obstacle of the door, so that it could get a better striking stance. I backed up. His forked tongue licked the air, investigating my intentions. I backed up. Within a few years turned minutes, Great Spirit became disinterested. I tucked my mosquito net tightly in and moved to my Dutch, Swedish and German friends to report my find. They all came running to my bungalow to scope the find. The landlady Et claimed it was a harmless tree snake—not poisonous, unlike the king cobra they have here lurking in the forest behind us. Only later, did a friend warn me that they jump.

“Butterly Bliss, Toucan Land, and Sharkville” March 6-7th

Refreshed by a good-night's sleep that was induced by the crashing waves nearby, I ventured along the beach in search of a cup of coffee, and a nicer bungalow further down shore. I am proud to say, I HAVE FOUND IT. “The Big Tree Bungalows” is situated on the same beach, but close to the rocky point. One must cross a river (during high tide, which diminishes to but a trickle during low tide) to get there. Yet it is only a 30 minute stroll downshore. I sat with German, Swedish and Nederland backpackers who return to this bungalow each year, for several months at a time, claiming this beach is one of the last backpacker outpost beaches left in all of Thailand (not ruined by the loud, Western tourist party scenes so often accompanying the beaches). Close enough to other restaurants, yet far enough from the main bungalow area, Big Tree nourishes a familial feel and holds a gem of a spot.

I now live in a bungalow three times the size of the former, for the same price, yet on the beach. It was previously rented for two months by an Irishman who just happened to be checking out when I arrived :). I type from my hammock not 20 feet from the clearish, turquoise waters of high tide nourishing the shoreline. I am visited by a red frog (who shares the bungalow), orange-bellied black honey suckers, butterflies of all different varieties, salamanders, geckos, “real” geckos (which look like 8-inch long green lizards), red lizards, and most impressively, a flock of hornbills (similar to a toucan but with an ax-head shaped horn that rests on their bill). Yesterday I was blessed with small, black tipped sharks feeding in the shallows not 30 feet from me. My report of them to my new-found veteran backpacker friends was unbelievable, until I showed them the one picture I was able to capture. They said after all the 20 some years they have traveled here, they had heard of but had never seen these “quite rare” sharks. What a blessing.

Hoy, ensano yoga en la playa a mis amigos.

“Energia Buena” March 4th

Two hours of great conversation and good vibes left me feeling I would instead travel with them to the neighboring and more populated island of Koh Payam instead of the jungled and sparce Koh Chang. Having spent three hours of practicing my Spanish and them practicing their English, I found myself greeting our restaurant chef in Spanish rather than Thai or English (which left us all laughing). We boarded the bus/taxi to the pier and I met a sweet Austrian woman (Etta) traveling like me. After two hours on a ferry and a little scooter ride to the Western side of the island, Etta and I plopped our bags down in beach-front bungalows for $7 bucks a night, called “Smile Hut” :) I am proud to say that following la energia beuna del mis amigos Espanoles y Etta was one of the best experiences so far. Travelers always say to “follow your gut” when moving. And here, it has proven most successful.

“Bus or train?” March 3rd-4th, 2011

My “sleeper train” was hardly the luxury I was long awaiting for my journey to the sea. I had purchased what I thought was an overnight ticket on a sleeper berth, complete with complimentary blanket, pillow, bathroom and curtains partitioning off my berth from few others around me. I was sadly disappointed. Instead, my high hopes met my lowly seat, that reclined just enough to make you think you can be comfortable, but not enough to really get there. So similar to the airplane seats I had spent over 24 hours on just days before. Need I say, little sleep found me this night. However, no other “farong” (Westerner) was seated in my car. I suppose I remained in “real Thailand”. Live and learn...live and learn.

I arrived in Chumpon, south of Bangkok at about 0610. Bypassisng the several Western travelers anxious to book their ferry/diving/accommodation/taxi tickets at the station, I walked across the street trying to ignore the touts' shouts for me to spend my hard earned dollars with them and their packaged “deals”. Not knowing exactly how to proceed, I met a couple like me, from Oklahoma (my first American friends here) standing on the corner. I followed them to their guesthouse whose owner pointed me in the direction of the “minibus” stand where I could book my 2-3 hour journey to the town of Ranong, on the Andaman coast where I was to catch my ferry to the islands. And, once again, I was met with a tout trying to get three times the cost from me to head to Ranong with other Westerners. I politely declined the offer, not feeling good about this, and walked across the street determined to find the public bus station. A few blocks later and with the help of a kind Chumpon mother of a six year-old, I arrived at the public bus station in time to market for mango and coffee and catch the $3 bus trip to Ranong. You know you're in a fishing village when the market is chalked full with the days' fresh catch: makerel, pompono (I think), crab, prehistoric horseshoe crab?, snapper, little round silver fisheys, and squid squid squid! I traversed the maze, and found myself at a coffee/tea shop run by a three generation family. The grandmama brought me my coffee, and her son insisted on me trying a cup of the menthol tea he was enjoying (**yummy**). Many thanks later, I was gifted a sweet rice paddy with coconut and fig? filling—a perfect accompaniment to the mango and carrot I purchased for the bus journey.

WOW. The public buses in Thailand are SUPER NICE. Nicer than the minibues. Nicer than the seated train. Pleated curtains, reclining seats, Thai and Burmese travelers, and one of the sweetest Spanish couples I have ever met blessed me this morning.

“Rain” March 3rd, 2011

The rain broke the swelter of my five days in Bangkok precisely when I had to journey to the train station—of course. Complete downpours would have left me soggy and drenched had I not have had the blessing of my Mom and Dad's red gortex-like rain parka (**thanks Mom, Dad and Vito for insisting I pack this**). Having found little food except the dried up, pre-packaged pasties in the train station, I ventured outside after the rain to kill some time and find my last meal in Bangkok. Just across the road was some of the best Thai food and sweetest Thai vendors I had met so far. I had a fantastic view from the steps above my table. I looked upon Thai travelers grabbing a quick bite to eat, checking out the food the vendors were preparing on their metal carts. Most of which were lit with only one small, jimmied light bulb hanging above the wok, wired to some sort of battery out of view. I traced the light's rays down the back of the head of a female vendor, down her rather drab shirt and criss-crossed, blue and white checkered apron straps to the ground where I found her “normal” street vendor uniform was completed with a pair of sparkling silver high heels :) And just beyond this view, the train station's clock stood tall, proclaiming the hour I had to enjoy my meal. Once again, I had “found” real Thailand.

“Bangkok--City of Angels” February 26th-March 2nd, 2011

24 hours on planes and in airports is far too long, and my back stated this loudly upon my weary arrival. Yet the flaming sun and suffocating humidity of “the hottest city in the world” mended my tiredness quickly as I sought my hotel for the next several days.

I boarded the plane in LA, not knowing much about my travel plans other than my desire to visit Thailand, Bali, Vietnam, and Angor What in Cambodia. I figured I would discover my path in the days it would take for me to apply and await my Vietnam visa.

My first night was accompanied by another solo woman traveler from England. I forgot how easy it is when you travel alone to meet and befriend beautiful people from all over the world. It is comforting. It has been, and continues to be my experience that nice people tend to find each other. The next morning I took a leisurely stroll, and discovered the great Reclining Buddha, and the Emerald Palace and Buddha. Outside of which many monks were shopping for a new, carved Buddha pendant, inspecting each one for the artist's accuracy with mini eye pieces. Striking.

I spent the next several days in Bangkok roaming the streets, and trying to steer clear from Khoa Son Road, the travelers' epa center where food is three times the price, and the streets are thronged with drunken partiers coming and going through Bangkok on their way to their next full moon party. Food here is not as good at the food carts in the surrounding streets where the Thais eat. However, it is on Khoa Son that tickets of every kind and visas of many SE Asian Countries can be obtained for onward travels without having to leave the “safety” of the farong (foreigner) meca. Many people don't. Some of us did. 

I took the public ferry many times from just behind my guesthouse, Bella Bella, to downtown Bangkok—a 30 minute ride past huge wats (temples), markets, and fancy waterfront hotels. The sky train connected here, which I used to navigate my way to the Vietnam embassy for my visa. Downtown Bangkok is a world of a difference—gold-lined, towering designer department stores and shopping malls sprout just above the people selling food on the streets. Food wrapped in banana leaves, placed in buckets, balanced on bamboo rods atop their shoulders. Returning, I connected with the subway to the train station for my onward ticket to the beach—which I decided was to be the two islands of Koh Chang and Koh Payam on the Andaman coast, near the border with Bangladesh. The mountain girl in me wanted to head to Chaing Mai in the north, but a girl had just returned from these islands, and a light bulb went off in my head that this was to be my decompression spot.