I'm quite tickled by the way a lot of place names are pronounced here. Although Phuket is not said as it’s read, the bus terminal I left for Cambodia from is called Mo Chit (the "C" is given an “S” sound) and the islands I took a boat trip to yesterday are pronounced “Ko Pee Pee”. In the interest of saving dough, I wasn’t planning on going to Koh Phi Phi at first. The days following my last blog entry were spent on my trusty scooter, and I drove down every main road on the entire island of Phuket. The rest of Phuket was not as pleasant or picturesque as the southern part that I visited on my first day, but I still enjoyed the exploration. Rolling through Phuket Town, which was crowded and dirty, I ended up in a Sea Gypsy village on a nearby island called Siray. The Sea Gypsies, (known as Moken, Moklen or Urok Lawoi) are ethnically different than the Thai, have no written language and a nomadic tradition of residing on small boats (or setting camp close to shore), and living off of the fish population until it’s decimated, then moving on to more plentiful waters. It’s a hard way to live, and nowadays only a few thousand remain, the rest having left their traditions for the conveniences of urban life. However, what I saw was hardly a romantic settlement. It was somewhat depressing, really. I observed a village of impoverished people, living in tiny elevated huts without electricity (and in some cases, without four walls) doing their best to take refuge from the sweltering heat. It wasn’t until I got back to Patong that I learned there are a handful of Sea Gyspy villages on Phuket, and heard complaints of how aggressive they are with their begging and the like. Yet, I also discovered that I went to the least touristy village of them all, and I’d believe it, because I didn’t see a single van or scooter on its way in or out, and did not experience any panhandling at all. I got a few stares, but they didn’t seem to mind my presence, or the fact that I took a couple of photos before zipping away down the dusty road.
After that, I went against the advice of a certain 90’s Hip-Hop trio and went chasing waterfalls, including the tallest one in Phuket…Bang Pae…located inside Khao Phra Thaeo National Park. I’m sure they’re more impressive during the rainy season, but I felt a little hosed by the admission price, since they were nothing to write home about. (Actually, I’m wondering why I’m writing home about them right now.) But, at least it was a nice little hike through the jungle, and it included a visit to the Gibbon Rehabilitation Center, where primates kept as pets are given a chance to begin a new life in a secluded part of the park. However, the ones you get to observe aren't suited for reintroduction into the forest, usually because of abuse suffered at the hands of their former owners. Like the Moken village, it was sad, but it was a small comfort to know that somebody is looking out for the Gibbons. I don’t know if anybody is looking out for the Sea Gypsies.
After a couple of days, I was got a little burned-out on the moped, and by burned-out I mean sunburnt. I figured it’d be a good idea to set the kickstand for keeps and just chill in Patong, even if meant a day or two of relaxing by the pool at my guesthouse. There wasn’t much of a party going on anyway, as they’d banned alcohol sales for three days because of an election. I thought it was kind of silly, since I felt like alcohol would make the average citizen a more honest voter. But just like with any other rule in Thailand, it wasn’t hard to find someone willing to bend it. One night, I washed down a dish of spicy green curry with beer served to me in a coffee cup, complete with sugar and creamer packets. They’d say, “More coffee, sir?” then refill my cup in the kitchen, and return with a wink and a smile.
Just like the moped, I was also getting a little burned-out on Thai food (did I just hear my friends gasp?). But seriously, I think I liked the food in China better. It’s likely due to the fact that I’ve always been more of a turf man than a surf man. There’s no real way to get around the fish sauce here, but even when I’d specifically request no seafood, I’d get a galaxy of prawns on my plate. So far, I’ve been reluctant to offer travel advice, but one thing I can say is, if you have an allergy to shrimp or shellfish, don’t come to Thailand.
Because I’m guessing it will be hard to come by in India, I decided to go out for steak one evening. As I perused the menu outside of the restaurant, I struck up a conversation with a British science teacher named Steve who was on Easter break from his job at a Kuwaiti boarding school, and came to Phuket specifically to eat steak and drink beer. I invited him to join me, and we had a nice time trying Weygu beef, which I’ve heard is like Japanese Angus. I have to say, it was pretty darn good. I also went to a market and got some Durian fruit, which stinks so much it’s not allowed on airplanes and subways here. I’d always wanted to try it, and in my opinion, it wasn’t really worth it. It didn’t taste horrible, but I can’t understand why it's so popular.
As I was laying by the pool on my penultiamate day in Phuket, I was greeted by the proprietor, Inigo, and during our chat, I told him how I’d thought about going to Koh Phi Phi, but wasn’t really up for spending the money. He told me Phi Phi was a must-see, and said he’d try to help me out. It was hard to turn him down after he hooked me up with a $103 speedboat tour for $40. The next morning, a minibus picked me up and took me to the Royal Phuket Marina, where I joined about twenty other tourists for a day trip to the islands.
They say Koh Phi Phi has the most beautiful beaches in the world, and I for one cannot disagree. The place looks like something straight out of the movies. In fact, a lot of the spots we went to are in the movies…Maya Cove was were the Leo DiCaprio vehicle The Beach was filmed, and we swam in a lagoon where parts of Jurassic Park 2 were shot. We saw Viking Cave, full of prehistoric paintings, but weren’t allowed to enter, because of protected swift nests, from which the Chinese delicacy Bird’s Nest Soup is made. Then we went for some world-class coral reef snorkeling, and had a not-so-good buffet lunch.
Our last stop was a tiny, low-lying island about 25 miles from Phuket known as Khai Nai. Since we’re sort of on the topic of film...you know the happy endings that involve sipping Pina Coladas from a coconut while sitting in a beach chair? Well, Khai Nai is that place. It was like a playground of white sand, crystal clear water, and good vibes. I could’ve stayed there all night…and I almost did.
When we made landfall on Khai Nai, we were told to be back in an hour and a half, and that we’d be the final visitors on the island until tomorrow. I’m not sure if anyone actually lives on it (there certainly aren’t any hotels), and unlike the other islands we’d been to, Khai Nai is essentially a sandbar with some tiki huts. When I saw the local bartenders closing up shop, it didn’t strike me as odd, since I knew my boat would be the last out. Although I had more than 30 minutes to return, I decided I might as well make my way back. Much to my surprise, my boat was hundreds of yards out in the water. I ran out waist-deep in the Andaman Sea, flailing my arms and shouting like a maniac. Thankfully, someone onboard saw me, and they returned to pick me up. My guess is that because I was the only individual on my cruise, no one noticed my absence. As I climbed onboard, I got some laughs after I said, “Damn, I almost got stranded in paradise!” Moments later, the crew explained why we left so early, and the reason I was happy I didn’t end up a latter-day Crusoe.
Our tour had been cut short due to an earthquake off Sumatra that elicited a Tsunami warning. The huge tremor had occurred in almost the same spot as the quake that sent a devastating tidal wave to Phuket on Boxing Day eight years ago. At that point, no one knew of the sheer panic going on in Patong, and it was frightening to see our crew scrambling for signals on their cell phones with concern on their countenances. The boat went full-throttle into the marina, slaloming through the channel buoys we’d idly passed on the way out that morning as if in a race.
The mood calmed once we arrived at the dock, because the marina sits on the eastern side of the island, across the mountains from Patong, and was spared during the Tsunami of ’04. We were told by our drivers that all of the return roads were blocked, and shown scary snapshots of an uncommonly receding ocean texted to them by their friends seeking higher ground. We didn’t leave the marina for another three hours.
It wasn’t long after we’d started back that it became painfully clear that the road into Patong was still closed, and our driver had no choice but to conserve gas and park alongside the highway with the thousands of other people in limbo. Our driver and most of the others went out for dinner at an Indian restaurant. Since I presumed I’d get enough Indian food in a couple of weeks, I decided to hang out with Mischa, a fellow passenger and Russian physics professor teaching in England, who was with his young son Boris. Mischa thought we should get a couple of beers and drink them while we wait, but was concerned about not having a bottle opener. It was the perfect time to show him the how-to-open -beer-with-lighter technique I’d learned from my roommate Tripp not long ago. “How fantastic”, I thought, “Me, teaching a physics professor how to open a beer with a Bic.” Boris kept on saying, “I hope we make it back to Exeter”, and his father replied over and over, “Is no worry…is adventure!” Tired and sweaty and stinky, I couldn’t have agreed with him more.
We didn’t make it back until late in the evening, after I’d been willing to sacrifice my feet for the sake of the group and hoof it two miles back to my hotel so that they might get to their rooms a little faster. Inigo greeted me at the hotel with “Did you survive the Tsunami?” Desiring nothing more than a shower and sleep, I made my way to my room, and found that the deadbolt was stuck. Inigo and I worked on it for an hour, bending the key to the point where I assured him that the only thing we could do to make the situation worse would be to break it off in the lock. I offered to climb over the second-storey balcony next door and open the bolt from the inside. Inigo did the right thing as an owner and made the amateur acrobatic maneuver himself. I thanked him for letting me in, washed up and went to bed.
Because of the hundreds of tourists missing their flights last night during the Tsunami scare, the airport was a zoo today. But somehow, I managed to get on an even earlier flight to Bangkok, and on a 747 no less. It marked my first time on a jumbo jet, and ironically for only one hour.
Now, I’m back in time for Songkran, the Thai New Year, and I’ll be in Thailand for the next four days until I depart for India, which I can only imagine will an experience in itself. “Is adventure,” as Mischa might say.
