Okay, it's a little belated. And it's not international. But I think it's always best to let people know that we made it home alive.
I thought I'd write a post about our Pan-Asian Airport Tour 2011. I was shuttled through Hong Kong and Tokyo, while Carla spent several hours in South Korea. My flight ended up having an eventful start-- I got an email the day before letting me know that my original flight had been cancelled and giving me a new schedule, only to arrive at the airport and be told that I was not booked on the flights I was told about. It took me two entire hours of talking to various people on the phone and in person before I straightened it out, but in the end I made all my connections and got to Hawaii in one piece. There, I attended the wedding of two dear college friends, slept little, and had an altogether splendid time!
Meanwhile, Carla stuck around in Bangkok for a few more days and then made her flight to California. I joined her here in the Bay Area on Saturday and have been really enjoying being home! From here, Carla will go to Barcelona for the summer to lead high school kids in a summer program, and I will go back to El Paso to work for the family business for a little while. After that? Who knows! You'll have to ask us when the time comes...
I will close (my portion of) this (episode of the) blog with a short list of things I REALLY, REALLY appreciate about being in the United States.
-Being able to take a shower without worrying about keeping my mouth closed to avoid ingesting unsafe water
-Being able to drink from the tap (and water fountains!!)
-Not being quite obviously foreign and therefore targetable for scams, tuk-tuk hassles, etc.
-FIXED PRICES. No more haggling!
-Automatic flush toilets. NOT!!!! I hate those and was really sorry the first time one flushed under me.
-Normal hair. For some reason, my hair turns into a big frizzy mess on foreign soil. It got completely back to normal after just one wash!
I'm sure there are many more things, but I guess I've already started to take them for granted!
So long, dear readers, and thanks for joining us on our journey!
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Carpe Diem (Forever)
Ok guys, I know this might seem crazy, but we have a confession to make. While traveling through the Islands of Southern Thailand, we just had such an amazing time that we needed to do something to commemorate the experience. One night, we were drinking jungle-juice out of small beach toys (aka “buckets”) and as we were walking down the street, someone said, “Hey, where are you from?” when we answered, “The United States”, he followed with “Want to get a tattoo?” How could we say no? So, to consecrate the memory of our life-altering experience laying on the beach, getting wasted, and partying until 6am, we got matching tattoos. Enormous ones. On our backs. In a language neither of us speaks or reads. Testifying to our love of life and fierce commitment to living each moment to the drunkes…I mean, fullest.
Oh wait, that wasn’t us. It was EVERYONE ELSE.
Seriously. In just about every town we’ve been to in Thailand, but especially in the south near the “party towns” on many of these islands/beaches, there are probably more tattoo parlors than restaurants. There are books upon books of designs and photos of the artists’ previous work covering the walls. The artists themselves are also walking advertisements for the possibilities as many are covered nearly head to toe with body art. What’s more, I don’t know how many confounding factors were at play here, but it just seemed to me that there was a TON of body art (tattoos) on the other travelers (mostly non-American) in all these places. What’s the story here? Do the type of people who come to Thailand just have more tattoos? Is body art that much more popular outside the US?
I don’t know the answer to those questions but let me tell you what I do know. A whole slew of those tattoos were acquired right here in Thailand. Most likely while the recipient was drunk with his/her friends providing moral support and/or criticism from the sidelines. The tattoo shops stayed open late. And by late I mean ALL NIGHT. I can’t tell you how many intoxicated people we saw stumbling into tattoo parlors about to turn their bad decisions into permanent ones. First of all, who wants to get tatted up at 4am by the guy who’s been working for 8 hours straight? Second of all, it should be illegal for these places to stay open past midnight when people have made their way through their second or third bucket. That or they should have a mandatory breathalyzer test as you walk in the door. Or maybe a 24 hour waiting period, like when you try to buy a gun in the US.
In any case, I’ll report more seriously now that neither one of us was tempted into any decisions we’ll regret later. Moms and dads, remember this next time you feel like questioning our judgment.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Tales from the Trail
As Audra described in her post, the guys we were hiking with for the first half of the trip pretty much blew us off every day to compete with each other over who could get down the trail first. As a result, Audra and I spent a good amount of time on our own at the back of the pack, chatting, listening to music, singing, or just hiking in silence together. Though I can’t remember exactly how it all started, at some point we started composing little ditties together—parodies of other songs, mostly, that had to do with our experiences on the trail. What follows are the lyrics of our two most complete songs. If you don’t know the song they go with, you should definitely look that up while you read. Enjoy J
Theme 1: Blister care and prevention. A major issue when you’re walking for 20 days straight. This song explores the challenge of catching the blister before it’s too late and not being too proud to admit there’s a problem.
“That Rubbin’ Feeling” (to the tune of “That Lovin’ Feeling”)
You never plan ahead anymore when you lace your shoes
Packed no blister pads like the guidebook told you to
You’re trying hard to conceal it (baby)
But baby, baby you feel it!
You’ve got that rubbin’ feeling
Whoa that rubbin’ feeling
You’ve got that rubbin’ feeling
Put some moleskin on
Before it’s too far gone oh oh whoa
Baby baby you’ve walked ten miles in those shoes
Feel that, blister, growing, you don’t want it to!
You have some boots, some boots, some boots that don’t rub everyday
So don’t, don’t, don’t let your pride get in the way
I’m singin’ baby, baby, baby, baby
Please, I’m beggin’ you please, please please
You need to stop, she needs to stop, so please just stop, sit down and stop
Take off that boot, take it all off! Take off that boot, ohhh!
You’ve got that rubbin’ feeling
Whoa that rubbin’ feeling
You’ve got that rubbin’ feeling
Put some moleskin on
Before it’s too far gone
And you can’t go on oh oh whoa
Theme 2: Relieving yourself in the woods. Enough said?
“Don’t Turn Around” (to the tune of Ace of Base’s “Don’t Turn Around”)
[Don’t tell me that you have to pee]
Hiking on the trail
Been drinking all day
And when you gotta go, darling
There’s only so long you can delay
I wanna be strong, I wanna stay dry
But something is trickling down my thigh
[Be proud of yourself, you’ve hydrated well, it’ll be clear and copious]
Don’t turn around! ‘Cause you’re gonna see my butt shakin’
Don’t turn around! I don’t want you seeing my thighs
Just walk away! You can’t believe how much I’ve been peein’
But I gotta go—I don’t want you to know
Don’t want you to know
I’ve had this pack around me
Squeezing me tight [squeezing me tight]
I see my hiking buddies
Enjoying the sights [enjoying the sights]
I need a pit stop, I’m poppin’ a squat
I’m scopin ‘ a place to make the drop
[It’s inevitable, their backs are all turned, so go on and go]
Don’t turn around! ‘Cause you’re gonna see my trowel rakin’
Don’t turn around! Diggin’ six inches takes time
Just walk away! Not much place to hide past the tree line
Make do with a rock
And assume a full squat!
I wish I could squeeze and wait for a toilet
Oh what I would give for a full throne
Walkin’ up the hill she feels the urge comin’ on
People on the trail, they don’t know what’s goin’ on
They stop and turn around
She’s gone…
Don’t turn around! ‘Cause you’re gonna see my but shakin’
Don’t turn around! I don’t want you seeing my thighs
Just walk away! You can’t believe how much I’ve been peein’
But I gotta go—baby don’t turn around!
Just walk away
You can’t believe how much I’ve been peein’
But I gotta go—don’t turn around!
The Art of the Squat Toilet
On the plane from Istanbul to Bangkok, I saw a sign in the airplane bathroom that I thought was hilarious. It shows an illustration of how one is supposed to sit on the airplane toilet, with feet on the ground, and NOT by squatting on top of the seat (see picture below). As a westerner, this tickled me because it seemed so very obvious how a “throne” toilet should be utilized. It wasn’t until a week or two down the trail in Nepal that I began to understand why there might be confusion: EVERY SINGLE toilet we encountered along the trail and many of the ones in the larger cities were squat toilets. For those who aren’t familiar, a squat toilet is basically a hole or porcelain receptacle at floor level with places for your feet on either side. You squat down, do your business over the hole and flush by pouring a bucket of water down afterwards.
Now, despite my previous third-world travel experiences, I have spent very little time with squat toilets, if any. I guess most of the toilets in Latin America, even in poorer countries, are still Western-style thrones. In one of our first few days in Nepal, Audra came back from the bathroom and proclaimed, “Man, there’s nothing like a good squat toilet.” I found this HILARIOUS. Analogous to the idea of there being nothing like a good bout of diarrhea just to clear out the system. But by the end of our time there, I was singing a slightly different tune.
First of all, we encountered just about every possible inception of the squat toilet imaginable on the trail between Shivalaya, Base Camp, and Lukla. Seriously, I wish in retrospect I had taken pictures in order to document the creativity and variety. These included:
· “Standard” squat toilet bowls, made of porcelain, with foot grips on either side and a bucket and running water with which to “flush”
· More rustic wooden versions consisting of a planked wood floor, with a hole cut out of the middle, with or without wooden foot grips. These usually didn’t involve running water but the good old port-a-potty design (poop on a pile). Some variations included piles of dried leaves inside the room with which you could cover your business and speed along the composting process.
· A stone version, which was essentially a large slab of rock (marble, perhaps? Ah, maybe not) with the same rectangular hole cut into the middle. Another stone version included an inclined “slide zone” (for your number two needs) that could then be flushed down with water.
· An even more rustic concept which, instead of featuring planked wood, was constructed of (worn down) saplings lain across as floorboards with one or two missing from the middle to provide the necessary space for squatting. This one was particularly precarious, as not only could my foot have fit through the squat hole, but could have slipped between any of the tree trunks and made its way down to the odorous netherworld below.
· And, the most rustic version of all: Nothing at all other than something to give you a little shade and perhaps a sliver of privacy. Although one time, Audra and I were directed to the “toilet” which was actually just an open field, by this young girl (probably 10 years old) who proceeded to sit there and watch while we squatted and took care of business. Luckily we were wearing our hiking skirts so it wasn’t such a peep show.
At first I found the squat toilet concept awkward and primitive…particularly the non-flush versions had a tendency toward pretty strong smells. But after I got into the groove, I really started to appreciate what Audra was getting at. For me, the key to comfortably using a squat toilet was the concept of the FULL SQUAT. This is not a “dirty bar bathroom hover” situation in which you’re basically doing a wall-sit while relieving yourself, but an actual bent knees, weight on your heels, bottom at ground level, full squat. This posture is WAY more comfortable than the “hover” and you can stay there for as long as you need (variable factor in stomach bug territory) without your quads starting to burn and quiver. The other realization I had was that in any rural or more germy situation, a squat toilet is actually a ton cleaner than a poorly-maintained throne, because there’s actually no contact between you and the toilet other than with your shoe-covered feet. You walk away from that thing without having to touch, wipe, or sit on a seat or pull a handle to flush. I would say American bars should consider a change-over but the idea of drunk women squatting in stiletto heels is just asking for trouble.
The real turning point came on my last day on the trail, heading from Namche to Lukla, where I stopped for a bathroom break at a rest house. There were two toilet options: the throne and the squat. Can you guess which one I chose? That’s right. I passed up the porcelain chair and opted instead for the hands-free sit on my haunches approach. I walked out thinking that Audra had been right after all. In places where you have to choose between a sporadically maintained squat toilet and a sporadically maintained throne, there is NOTHING like a good squat toilet.
Time Warp: Nepal
Ok yet again I’m here to catch you up on things that I meant to write about earlier but never got around to and blah blah blah…are you sensing a pattern here?
Cue squiggly screen shot and dreamy flashback music.
I wanted to expand a little on some details and stories from our time on the trail in Nepal. The 3 weeks we spent trekking in the Khumbu region were by far the highlight of this trip for both of us. The scenery was spectacular, the people were welcoming, and the challenge was tangible and drove us to action each day. In my last update, I talked about the physical and mental challenge we experienced during the long days from Shivalaya to Namche Bazaar. After Namche, things really shifted because the limiting factor each day had more to do with how high we could climb (and sleep) rather than how many hours of daylight we had to walk. Instead of aching legs, it was burning lungs that caused us to pull over for rest. In the end, we both navigated the altitude safely, and it was fascinating to watch/feel as our bodies adjusted to the climate, feeling stronger and less winded each day. Our “training trip” really did pay off when, towards the end of the trip, we barely noticed the weight on our backs (which ended up being in the vicinity of 10kg or 22lbs). Ultimately, we accomplished exactly what we came to do, and then some. We left Nepal with a great sense of accomplishment, success, and confident that our backsides are going to look better than ever once we get them back to a pair of jeans.
There are a few specific themes I still wanted to write about from our time in Nepal, so please bear with me as I take you back in time for the next few posts!
Friday, May 27, 2011
Adventures in Krabi
Sooo Krabi. I loved Krabi. It was a pretty far cry from Ko Phangan in terms of geography (more interesting), vibe (more relaxed), people (older, calmer, less inclined to get hammered all the time), and activities (way more options). The first day there, we rented kayaks and rowed along the coast, which has a lot of cliffs jutting out of the ocean. We went over several areas that were shallow and clear enough to see the bottom, which made me want to snorkel. So the next day, I went for a long snorkeling session. It was a great swim/workout, but to be honest the wildlife wasn’t that spectacular. I guess it wasn’t the best area, plus the water was choppy.
That afternoon, we spent some time at the hotel pool after lunch. It was nothing fancy—the water wasn’t particularly clear and the plastic lining was coming off the bottom—but it was a great way to cool down and stay in the shade in the afternoon. While we were there, this Irish guy who lived on the island (who was most remarkable, to me, for the central role that marijuana clearly played in his life) told us about a view point and laguna nearby. We set off to hike to these points, but ran into a Canadian girl we had met, who was covered in red mud and said that she’d been unable to get to the laguna because the going was too rough. That was enough to convince Carla to stick with her original plan of reading and writing all afternoon, and enough to convince me that this journey was not to be missed.
I started up the path to the viewpoint, and it was definitely more interesting than your average trail—it was a steep climb up a slippery slope, with ropes strung here and there to help on the ascent. I was wearing my Vibrams, which are a great shoe for scrambling, and I felt pretty confident climbing, just as long as I could use both hands and feet.
At the top I spoke to some other guys who had been to the laguna and they agreed it was technically challenging. It was late enough that I doubted more people would be coming, and I decided that I shouldn’t go alone (is anyone proud of me for such uncharacteristic prudence?) so I was on the way back down when I ran into a group of Americans coming up. I asked if they were going to the laguna and they said yes, so I joined them.
We got to the top and began the descent, and soon we got to a place where there was a 20-foot drop, with a rope hanging over the edge. This guy Mike went first—lord knows how—and then helped me to get my feet into progressively lower loops on this slimy rope until I was close enough to the ground to jump, with his guidance. He helped the rest of the group down the same way. In all there were three drop-offs like that, where you had to lower yourself on ropes. After the fact, and based on the fact that nobody fell or was injured, I’d have to say that it wasn’t too hard… but in the moment it was SUCH a thrill.
At the bottom, we got our reward: a still, clear lagoon surrounded on all sides by jutting cliffs. I floated in the middle and looking up, all I could see was an eye of blue sky rimmed with foliage, with birds flying to and fro across it. The air was absolutely still.
Coming back up the trail was another adventure, since you couldn’t very well shimmy up a rope, so we had to find places to free-climb up. This is not something I normally do without trepidation, but they guys spotted me and it ended up being easy enough. I was pretty impressed by the people I was with (and those who make this trip in general). I am a decently athletic person, but I would have never attempted it without the help of my new friends.
Then we went to the lookout point (again, for me) and watched the sunset—AMAZING!! And the whole adventure was capped off with me going down the first path alone in the dark. I felt like Jane of the jungle, grabbing all these ropes and roots to guide me along a dimly lit mud path.
That day was also Carla’s birthday! So we had a nice dinner of grilled fish and sides (I had red snapper, Carla had shark) and then went dancing at the one bar that had a club-like scene. Right when we got there, this guy approached Carla and we ended up sitting with him and his buddy. They were Canadian and they were (unsurprisingly) very nice. A little boring, but nice for sure. They wouldn’t dance with us, and of course we were there to dance, so… we hit the dance floor. Alone. And went crazy!
I don’t think there are many people in my life who will dance with me when the floor is otherwise empty, but I’ve known since this one Harvey Mudd party my senior year that Carla is one who can get a party started (or just dance alone with me until we’re tired and leave the party to continue to be not-started). So we were shaking our thing, sweat pouring down our faces, to such an extent that the bartender gave us a free bucket (remember, a small plastic beach pail containing a 5th of cheap alcohol, a soda, and a red bull on ice). Man, the contents of buckets is gross! I love the taste of alcohol, from two buck chuck to PBR, but I could NOT take down one of these buckets! It tasted vaguely like you went to the soda fountain and mixed all the options into a paper cup, then let all the ice melt and the soda has gone flat. With rotgut alcohol. I don’t even know if I can say I’ve outgrown such a thing—I might have never been able to stomach it. But I didn’t come to Thailand in college, so it’s hard to say.
So we danced and we danced HARD. It was a lot of fun, and eventually other people danced too. We left at 2:30 and the party was still going.
Wow this post got huge. To sum up the next few days: we went with the two nice Canadians the next day, took a ferry, rented motorbikes, and rode behind them to a temple above 1200 steps. We got really sweaty. Like, REALLY sweaty. When I wiped my face, it didn’t remove the sweat, it just moved it around. We went to a market and had CHEAP pad thai and iced coffees (about $1 for both) and I found out that I’m one of very few white people who like Durian fruit. We went back and had an early night (I basically went face down on the bed and missed dinner). The next day I went scuba diving and Carla went canoeing through mangrove forests with a Canadian tour group. The next day we decided at the last minute to go to Ko Phi Phi, which is supposed to be one of the most beautiful beaches in the world. So around noon we got on a water taxi that took us to a pier, where a van took us to another pier, then a big boat took us to Ko Phi Phi.
That afternoon, we spent some time at the hotel pool after lunch. It was nothing fancy—the water wasn’t particularly clear and the plastic lining was coming off the bottom—but it was a great way to cool down and stay in the shade in the afternoon. While we were there, this Irish guy who lived on the island (who was most remarkable, to me, for the central role that marijuana clearly played in his life) told us about a view point and laguna nearby. We set off to hike to these points, but ran into a Canadian girl we had met, who was covered in red mud and said that she’d been unable to get to the laguna because the going was too rough. That was enough to convince Carla to stick with her original plan of reading and writing all afternoon, and enough to convince me that this journey was not to be missed.
I started up the path to the viewpoint, and it was definitely more interesting than your average trail—it was a steep climb up a slippery slope, with ropes strung here and there to help on the ascent. I was wearing my Vibrams, which are a great shoe for scrambling, and I felt pretty confident climbing, just as long as I could use both hands and feet.
At the top I spoke to some other guys who had been to the laguna and they agreed it was technically challenging. It was late enough that I doubted more people would be coming, and I decided that I shouldn’t go alone (is anyone proud of me for such uncharacteristic prudence?) so I was on the way back down when I ran into a group of Americans coming up. I asked if they were going to the laguna and they said yes, so I joined them.
We got to the top and began the descent, and soon we got to a place where there was a 20-foot drop, with a rope hanging over the edge. This guy Mike went first—lord knows how—and then helped me to get my feet into progressively lower loops on this slimy rope until I was close enough to the ground to jump, with his guidance. He helped the rest of the group down the same way. In all there were three drop-offs like that, where you had to lower yourself on ropes. After the fact, and based on the fact that nobody fell or was injured, I’d have to say that it wasn’t too hard… but in the moment it was SUCH a thrill.
At the bottom, we got our reward: a still, clear lagoon surrounded on all sides by jutting cliffs. I floated in the middle and looking up, all I could see was an eye of blue sky rimmed with foliage, with birds flying to and fro across it. The air was absolutely still.
Coming back up the trail was another adventure, since you couldn’t very well shimmy up a rope, so we had to find places to free-climb up. This is not something I normally do without trepidation, but they guys spotted me and it ended up being easy enough. I was pretty impressed by the people I was with (and those who make this trip in general). I am a decently athletic person, but I would have never attempted it without the help of my new friends.
Then we went to the lookout point (again, for me) and watched the sunset—AMAZING!! And the whole adventure was capped off with me going down the first path alone in the dark. I felt like Jane of the jungle, grabbing all these ropes and roots to guide me along a dimly lit mud path.
That day was also Carla’s birthday! So we had a nice dinner of grilled fish and sides (I had red snapper, Carla had shark) and then went dancing at the one bar that had a club-like scene. Right when we got there, this guy approached Carla and we ended up sitting with him and his buddy. They were Canadian and they were (unsurprisingly) very nice. A little boring, but nice for sure. They wouldn’t dance with us, and of course we were there to dance, so… we hit the dance floor. Alone. And went crazy!
I don’t think there are many people in my life who will dance with me when the floor is otherwise empty, but I’ve known since this one Harvey Mudd party my senior year that Carla is one who can get a party started (or just dance alone with me until we’re tired and leave the party to continue to be not-started). So we were shaking our thing, sweat pouring down our faces, to such an extent that the bartender gave us a free bucket (remember, a small plastic beach pail containing a 5th of cheap alcohol, a soda, and a red bull on ice). Man, the contents of buckets is gross! I love the taste of alcohol, from two buck chuck to PBR, but I could NOT take down one of these buckets! It tasted vaguely like you went to the soda fountain and mixed all the options into a paper cup, then let all the ice melt and the soda has gone flat. With rotgut alcohol. I don’t even know if I can say I’ve outgrown such a thing—I might have never been able to stomach it. But I didn’t come to Thailand in college, so it’s hard to say.
So we danced and we danced HARD. It was a lot of fun, and eventually other people danced too. We left at 2:30 and the party was still going.
Wow this post got huge. To sum up the next few days: we went with the two nice Canadians the next day, took a ferry, rented motorbikes, and rode behind them to a temple above 1200 steps. We got really sweaty. Like, REALLY sweaty. When I wiped my face, it didn’t remove the sweat, it just moved it around. We went to a market and had CHEAP pad thai and iced coffees (about $1 for both) and I found out that I’m one of very few white people who like Durian fruit. We went back and had an early night (I basically went face down on the bed and missed dinner). The next day I went scuba diving and Carla went canoeing through mangrove forests with a Canadian tour group. The next day we decided at the last minute to go to Ko Phi Phi, which is supposed to be one of the most beautiful beaches in the world. So around noon we got on a water taxi that took us to a pier, where a van took us to another pier, then a big boat took us to Ko Phi Phi.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Thailand II
Right now we are at a place called Railay Beach, which is near Krabi town on the SW coast of Thailand. And it is breathtaking. One of the most beautiful places I have ever been. It is a small peninsula covered in sharp cliffs and tropical vegetation, so you have the ocean, the greenery, and the topography all battling for attention. A lot of people come here to climb, and we might do some climbing. There is also snorkeling and diving, and yesterday we took a kayak around part of the coast.
Our hotel is pretty fancy by our standards—flush toilet (though it doesn’t always flush) and fan (though the fan is technically not working) plus the room provided towels, TP, AND shampoo and soap! Right? It is up a big staircase, so from where I am on the terrace it looks out on a great view of the ocean. There is also a pool. Our room is about $15 a night.
Getting here was interesting—we went on an overnight boat in which most of the space was taken up by thin mattresses placed side by side on the floor. Each one was maybe the width of a full-size bed and fit two. We kept our backpacks at the feet of the beds and all the tourists piled in there together and the lights went out as soon as the boat left, and really pretty much everyone slept (based on the general lack of noise). It was a great concept! Unfortunately, the boat ride ended at 4 am and we had to wait in a parking lot for an open-back truck to take us to a waiting station, where it took some two hours for the next truck to be ready to take us to a bus, where we sat unmoving for an hour before making the journey to Krabi for a taxi to the port and a long-tail boat to the beach. But it was worth it! So far this is my favorite place in Thailand. The island we were at before had great beaches and everything, but there’s just something about the cliffs that really takes this area to the next level.
The last place we were, Koh Phangan, is famous for the Full Moon Party. We arrived two days before it, and found that there were parties every night already. The first night we went to this pool party and I felt like I was the oldest person there—fine in itself, but the way everyone else was behaving was way too reminiscent of the awkwardness of the late teenage/early college years.
In general, the scene made me just a little uncomfortable. It reminded me of Spring Break in Rosarito, Mexico… where privileged white people descended en masse on this Mexican town, which had completely re-configured itself to receive them, feed them, inebriate them, and then clean up after them. I went to the market there and some of the vendors were floored that I spoke Spanish. They had learned to even accommodate their rich visitors linguistically, rather than the other way around.
Well, I don’t speak a word of Thai so I’m guilty on that front and many others. In Haad Rin (the beach town where the party happens), the shops are all made up of:
1. Restaurants that serve Western food at steep prices and play a continuous stream of American movies on big screens.
2. Shops selling neon colored shirts and shorts, hats, flip flops and an endless supply of summer dresses.
3. Massage parlors.
4. Tattoo parlors. Apparently they do NOT stop applying tattoos after a certain time of night, when alcohol can turn bad decisions into irreversible ones.
5. Motorbike rental facilities
6. Medical clinics. There were at least 4 on this island, a testament to how alcohol and motorbikes don’t mix.
7. Alcohol vendors. There are dozens and dozens of stands that are virtually identical except for the writing on the front, in which each vendor tries to out-do the other with respect to shock value and/or appeals to certain demographics. An example of the former would be “Free Fuck Bucket” to top “Me love you long time” or of the latter would be a surplus of, say, British flags.
So this town was basically a bunch of tanned/sunburned white 20 year olds killing time between parties. This was a difficult scene for me. Also, people were startlingly unfriendly! They would pass us without making eye contact, and sometimes even when I said hello they didn’t respond. One day we were trying to go to another beach and were unsuccessful hitching with SUVs full of tourists—though TWICE one pulled over and then pulled away before we could get in. It was unbelievable. I got so frustrated that I split with Carla and started running down the road, up and down steep hills. I eventually ran out of steam and it started to rain as I walked back, and vehicle after vehicle passed me without asking if I would like a ride.
Still, I had a blast at the Full Moon Party itself. A lot of people came in just for the party and they tended to be older and less single minded. Then there was a ton of loud music and people dancing. But the best part of the night was that Carla and I used glow-in-the-dark body paint on each other. We spent probably 2 or more hours applying it. We were both in sports bras and bikini bottoms, and I painted her exposed skin with vines and flowers. She painted my face with an incredibly detailed Dia de los Muertos-style skull and then painted an orange skeleton onto my body. It was definitely the winner, though we both got lots of attention. I am a definite convert to the idea of body paint as a party accessory!
We didn’t really stay out that late. We weren’t drinking—all together I think the two of us had maybe 3 beers total on the island, both because it was expensive and because we were enjoying the fruit shakes and Thai iced teas so much that alcohol seemed extraneous—so after a certain point it was just clear how drunk everyone else was and it was kind of a turnoff. Someone puked on my shoe. That’s a first. We saw a couple fighting and stood watching them for a few minutes in confusion, because it looked like the fight was based on her trying to remove his shorts and him not wanting her to. We started being approached not by people who just wanted to ooh and aah over our get-ups, but who wanted to drape their sandy, sweaty arms over us and slurringly convince us to hook up with their buddy. Another funny thing was guys who tried to impress us by name-dropping skeletal elements. “Oh wow. Clavicle, radius, ulna, carpals—you did a great job!”
We were in bed by 2:30 after scrubbing off whatever paint didn’t fall off from the sweat of dancing. I woke up at 7 and went back to the main beach, and the party was still going on! Some Americans I had talked to the night before were sitting on the beach, and I found out that they had pulled an all-nighter by necessity; they didn’t have accommodation. They had come in the day before and were just waiting on the day’s first ferry to leave. (My reaction: next time I’m doing it that way! Carla’s reaction: that sounds like torture).
I had spent the 2.5 days leading up to the party mostly feeling uncomfortable. I felt uncomfortable with the scene of privilege-meets-natural-beauty-and-cheapens-it, and I think I was also feeling some serious Nepal withdrawal. As many of you know, I’m not great at sitting still. So the Nepal lifestyle (get up and hike!) suited me better than the Thai tourist one (sit on the beach and read). Plus I missed our friends from Nepal, the doctors. We had spent a lot of time with them and it was hard not having them around all of a sudden. But the day after the party, I ended up sleeping in a hammock and reading for a lot of the day and it felt pretty good!
We finally left our bungalow in the late afternoon, and went to Haad Rin beach. There, Carla saw three guys messing around with a volleyball and said, “looks like the need a fourth to play!” She jogged towards them and called out “It looks like you guys need a fourth!” And they ignored her. For a second I was like, this is unbelievable—more rude people! But then she caught their attention and one of them gestured to her that they were deaf. So the four of them went to the nets and had an awesome game of 2 on 2 (all four were great players) while I kept score. And it was just so much fun!! The guys could all mouth words, though I didn’t hear any of them speak at all. They’d ask me what the score was and I’d speak it while holding up fingers to show. Carla and I cheered and everything as usual, but ours were the only voices. After the game, we sat and chatted with them for a while, using gestures, lip-reading, and a single piece of paper and pen. They all seemed like really great guys and we got their email address and might see them here in Krabi.
We had paid for two more nights but the next day we decided to move on that night. I wanted to get motorbikes to explore more of the island but Carla was turned off by all the tourists with bandaged limbs from where they had fallen. Just when we were debating what to do, we saw three French guys Carla had met earlier renting bikes, and we ended up riding on the backs of their bikes over the island to a much quieter beach. I really enjoyed the ride! Man, there’s something about flying over terrain with the wind in my face that really gets me, whether it’s on a bicycle or a motorbike. We were out there till evening, and then we had to really scramble to get all our stuff packed and get to the boat, but it was a really nice day and a great way to end our stay there.
This post is in the wrong order but it brings us up to speed! The plan for today is to join an afternoon-evening tour for snorkeling, seafood, sunset and swimming with some phospholuminescent shrimp. P.s. we’re just a ferry ride away from the place where the movie The Beach was filmed, and we’re going to go check that out tomorrow or the next day.
I fly out in 8 days and I’m really excited about that. I don’t know if it’s because the end is near or just because it’s been so long, but I’m running out of steam for traveling. Which I’m kind of grateful for—we’ve talked to some people who are going home and sound really depressed about it, which makes me kind of sad. I’m glad that I have so many wonderful people and things to go home to!
Our hotel is pretty fancy by our standards—flush toilet (though it doesn’t always flush) and fan (though the fan is technically not working) plus the room provided towels, TP, AND shampoo and soap! Right? It is up a big staircase, so from where I am on the terrace it looks out on a great view of the ocean. There is also a pool. Our room is about $15 a night.
Getting here was interesting—we went on an overnight boat in which most of the space was taken up by thin mattresses placed side by side on the floor. Each one was maybe the width of a full-size bed and fit two. We kept our backpacks at the feet of the beds and all the tourists piled in there together and the lights went out as soon as the boat left, and really pretty much everyone slept (based on the general lack of noise). It was a great concept! Unfortunately, the boat ride ended at 4 am and we had to wait in a parking lot for an open-back truck to take us to a waiting station, where it took some two hours for the next truck to be ready to take us to a bus, where we sat unmoving for an hour before making the journey to Krabi for a taxi to the port and a long-tail boat to the beach. But it was worth it! So far this is my favorite place in Thailand. The island we were at before had great beaches and everything, but there’s just something about the cliffs that really takes this area to the next level.
The last place we were, Koh Phangan, is famous for the Full Moon Party. We arrived two days before it, and found that there were parties every night already. The first night we went to this pool party and I felt like I was the oldest person there—fine in itself, but the way everyone else was behaving was way too reminiscent of the awkwardness of the late teenage/early college years.
In general, the scene made me just a little uncomfortable. It reminded me of Spring Break in Rosarito, Mexico… where privileged white people descended en masse on this Mexican town, which had completely re-configured itself to receive them, feed them, inebriate them, and then clean up after them. I went to the market there and some of the vendors were floored that I spoke Spanish. They had learned to even accommodate their rich visitors linguistically, rather than the other way around.
Well, I don’t speak a word of Thai so I’m guilty on that front and many others. In Haad Rin (the beach town where the party happens), the shops are all made up of:
1. Restaurants that serve Western food at steep prices and play a continuous stream of American movies on big screens.
2. Shops selling neon colored shirts and shorts, hats, flip flops and an endless supply of summer dresses.
3. Massage parlors.
4. Tattoo parlors. Apparently they do NOT stop applying tattoos after a certain time of night, when alcohol can turn bad decisions into irreversible ones.
5. Motorbike rental facilities
6. Medical clinics. There were at least 4 on this island, a testament to how alcohol and motorbikes don’t mix.
7. Alcohol vendors. There are dozens and dozens of stands that are virtually identical except for the writing on the front, in which each vendor tries to out-do the other with respect to shock value and/or appeals to certain demographics. An example of the former would be “Free Fuck Bucket” to top “Me love you long time” or of the latter would be a surplus of, say, British flags.
So this town was basically a bunch of tanned/sunburned white 20 year olds killing time between parties. This was a difficult scene for me. Also, people were startlingly unfriendly! They would pass us without making eye contact, and sometimes even when I said hello they didn’t respond. One day we were trying to go to another beach and were unsuccessful hitching with SUVs full of tourists—though TWICE one pulled over and then pulled away before we could get in. It was unbelievable. I got so frustrated that I split with Carla and started running down the road, up and down steep hills. I eventually ran out of steam and it started to rain as I walked back, and vehicle after vehicle passed me without asking if I would like a ride.
Still, I had a blast at the Full Moon Party itself. A lot of people came in just for the party and they tended to be older and less single minded. Then there was a ton of loud music and people dancing. But the best part of the night was that Carla and I used glow-in-the-dark body paint on each other. We spent probably 2 or more hours applying it. We were both in sports bras and bikini bottoms, and I painted her exposed skin with vines and flowers. She painted my face with an incredibly detailed Dia de los Muertos-style skull and then painted an orange skeleton onto my body. It was definitely the winner, though we both got lots of attention. I am a definite convert to the idea of body paint as a party accessory!
We didn’t really stay out that late. We weren’t drinking—all together I think the two of us had maybe 3 beers total on the island, both because it was expensive and because we were enjoying the fruit shakes and Thai iced teas so much that alcohol seemed extraneous—so after a certain point it was just clear how drunk everyone else was and it was kind of a turnoff. Someone puked on my shoe. That’s a first. We saw a couple fighting and stood watching them for a few minutes in confusion, because it looked like the fight was based on her trying to remove his shorts and him not wanting her to. We started being approached not by people who just wanted to ooh and aah over our get-ups, but who wanted to drape their sandy, sweaty arms over us and slurringly convince us to hook up with their buddy. Another funny thing was guys who tried to impress us by name-dropping skeletal elements. “Oh wow. Clavicle, radius, ulna, carpals—you did a great job!”
We were in bed by 2:30 after scrubbing off whatever paint didn’t fall off from the sweat of dancing. I woke up at 7 and went back to the main beach, and the party was still going on! Some Americans I had talked to the night before were sitting on the beach, and I found out that they had pulled an all-nighter by necessity; they didn’t have accommodation. They had come in the day before and were just waiting on the day’s first ferry to leave. (My reaction: next time I’m doing it that way! Carla’s reaction: that sounds like torture).
I had spent the 2.5 days leading up to the party mostly feeling uncomfortable. I felt uncomfortable with the scene of privilege-meets-natural-beauty-and-cheapens-it, and I think I was also feeling some serious Nepal withdrawal. As many of you know, I’m not great at sitting still. So the Nepal lifestyle (get up and hike!) suited me better than the Thai tourist one (sit on the beach and read). Plus I missed our friends from Nepal, the doctors. We had spent a lot of time with them and it was hard not having them around all of a sudden. But the day after the party, I ended up sleeping in a hammock and reading for a lot of the day and it felt pretty good!
We finally left our bungalow in the late afternoon, and went to Haad Rin beach. There, Carla saw three guys messing around with a volleyball and said, “looks like the need a fourth to play!” She jogged towards them and called out “It looks like you guys need a fourth!” And they ignored her. For a second I was like, this is unbelievable—more rude people! But then she caught their attention and one of them gestured to her that they were deaf. So the four of them went to the nets and had an awesome game of 2 on 2 (all four were great players) while I kept score. And it was just so much fun!! The guys could all mouth words, though I didn’t hear any of them speak at all. They’d ask me what the score was and I’d speak it while holding up fingers to show. Carla and I cheered and everything as usual, but ours were the only voices. After the game, we sat and chatted with them for a while, using gestures, lip-reading, and a single piece of paper and pen. They all seemed like really great guys and we got their email address and might see them here in Krabi.
We had paid for two more nights but the next day we decided to move on that night. I wanted to get motorbikes to explore more of the island but Carla was turned off by all the tourists with bandaged limbs from where they had fallen. Just when we were debating what to do, we saw three French guys Carla had met earlier renting bikes, and we ended up riding on the backs of their bikes over the island to a much quieter beach. I really enjoyed the ride! Man, there’s something about flying over terrain with the wind in my face that really gets me, whether it’s on a bicycle or a motorbike. We were out there till evening, and then we had to really scramble to get all our stuff packed and get to the boat, but it was a really nice day and a great way to end our stay there.
This post is in the wrong order but it brings us up to speed! The plan for today is to join an afternoon-evening tour for snorkeling, seafood, sunset and swimming with some phospholuminescent shrimp. P.s. we’re just a ferry ride away from the place where the movie The Beach was filmed, and we’re going to go check that out tomorrow or the next day.
I fly out in 8 days and I’m really excited about that. I don’t know if it’s because the end is near or just because it’s been so long, but I’m running out of steam for traveling. Which I’m kind of grateful for—we’ve talked to some people who are going home and sound really depressed about it, which makes me kind of sad. I’m glad that I have so many wonderful people and things to go home to!
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