When we finally managed to tear ourselves away from the beauty and relaxation of Koh Tao, we found ourselves boarding a night boat. The night boat - whose primary purpose is to haul cargo, but is now equipped to sleep about 80 or so passengers lined up like sardines in a can on little mats for sleeping - would cruise slowly across the Gulf of Thailand’s inky, calm waters, to the mainland at Surat Thani. I had the sense that we were most likely finished with the most comfortable, “beaten track” part of the trip. I’ve never slept on a boat, much less on a tiny pad lined up on the floor in between dozens of other travelers. When I say travelers, I mean Thai people, too. Strangely (in my mind), all the foreigners were relegated to one side of the boat, with the Thais on the other. The ride itself was pretty unremarkable, except for one older gentlemen who I continued to notice as he moved about the cabin, trying to find a spot, get settled, who knows what. With hair and a face reminiscent of Gandalf, he was by far the oldest person on the boat, and I couldn’t help but giggle at his outfit, which involved a lot of shirt, tucked into a lot of underwear.
We quickly began referring to travel through Thailand as “the shuffle.” It’s great that it’s easy and relatively cheap to travel this country by bus, train, and boat, but the companies that run these operations seem to have little to no clue about order and efficiency. “You go there,” “come with me,” “wait here,” oy vey. We never had any issues with actually getting to where we wanted to go. It just seemed as though they were taking us on the most circuitous, senseless path to do so. At 4:30am, we found ourselves at the travel agency, drinking Nescafe (instant coffee), and waiting around with several other travelers for our bus to Krabi, and groggily chatting with Gandalf, aka Dr. Ewald Rumph. This turned out to be the highlight of this journey for me, as we we able to enjoy a really nice conversation with this sweet, gentle man who inspired me with his fortitude - traveling throughout Asia on his own at what must be a fairly advanced age. Ewald, a sculpture, professor of psychology, and staunch proponent of peace and equality, shared with us a bit about his life (which he splits between Germany and Nice, Italy), while asking us about ours. As we talked U.S. and world politics, as well as the major humanitarian crises of the day, he emphasized the importance of discussing these topics, to chew on them together, to keep them in the forefront of our collective consciences. I so appreciated this, because even at a relatively young age, I sometimes find myself feeling cynical and jaded, thinking, “what could I say or do that hasn’t already been said or done?” What’s the point in talking about how much injustice, unfairness, corruption, sorrow, tragedy, and suffering the people of the world are dealing with? This lovely wizard of a man, with an old-school and artsy intellect, confidently traveling solo throughout Asia, gave me an important reminder that we must continue to work towards what we believe is right and good. He made sure to give us his card, so that we could visit should we ever find ourselves in Germany or Italy.
We used Krabi, a smallish city on the southeastern Andaman coast of Thailand, as a stepping stone between Koh Tao, and our next island adventure, Koh Lanta. Minimally invaded by tourists, Krabi was a nice spot to spend a day. After the islandy treat that was Koh Tao, both Evan and I felt that we needed a little grounding, a dose of daily living. There were tourists floating around here and there, but it was mostly local people, going about their days. We marveled at the families of 3,4,5 people crammed onto motorbikes, particularly the little ones perched precariously on tiny bamboo stools wedged into the space between the driver and the handlebars. A flash of judgement arose quickly, but upon further examination I thought, “this is the way of life here, what other options are available?” Most people cannot afford a car, and as we all know, life often revolves around schlepping yourself, your family, and your possessions from point a to point b. We enjoyed hearing the cries and squeals of children emanating from the open-air schools as we walked down the sidewalks, baking in the afternoon sun, wondering how on earth these youngsters could manage to play soccer so merrily in the oppressive heat. In front of the schools, there were dozens of posters and signs prominently displaying photos of students smiling and posing with trophies and medals for various academic, artistic, and athletic achievements. I could see clearly that there is a great deal of pride involved in student’s successes at these schools, and on a very individual level.
Later that evening, we enjoyed strolling through the bustling night market, which was full of vendors selling polyester dresses, SpongeBob Squarepants cellphone cases, and every kind of food imaginable (especially a glut of unidentifiable neon jelly drinks/candies/substances; this seems to be a favorite in Thailand). We sat at a small table set up on a blacktop in front of a nice stage with good sound and fun lighting, listening for a bit to two young guys playing acoustic guitar and singing covers of American songs from the 90’s, like, “Wonderwall,” by Oasis. They were very good and entertaining - I got a huge kick out of hearing songs like Wonderwall sung with a Thai accent. What I liked most was just seeing townspeople out and about, being together, and being there with them. It felt like a very tight-knit community, and the nightly markets are no doubt a contributor to this. It has a similar vibe to gatherings that take place a few times/year in Ithaca, but it’s a much more frequent occurrence. I couldn’t help but wonder what it would take to create so much more back at home. This lovely phenomenon is a nice example of “placemaking.”
We made our way to Koh Lanta the following day, for more beachy, ocean adventures. Koh Lanta is an island where I felt like I could easily just be. We stationed ourselves at the southern end of the island (Kantiang Bay) so that we would be well-positioned to access the top diving sites of Hin Muang and Hin Daeng. I didn’t feel suffocated by tourists or by locals trying to sell me stuff, and I didn’t feel overwhelmed by stimulus, as I sometimes did on Koh Tao. As much as our bungalow at Simply Life was kind of “bungy,” I actually loved living there; it took between 30 seconds and three minutes to walk everywhere - including the beach. I felt a little bit less like a tourist and more like a temporary resident, visiting the same shops, frequenting the Drunken Sailor - a wonderful restaurant, waving to the same business owners on the beach, and enjoying beers and music at the Why Not bar almost nightly.
The visit here was still very active for us, as we spent the better part of three days out on the ocean, at times in some pretty choppy waters. This resulted in some manageable seasickness in addition to some very sound sleeping at night. In Koh Lanta, we enjoyed what has been so far, the best scuba diving I have experienced; I’m so glad we got the chance to dive on the Andaman side of Thailand. The sites were stunning, and I had the opportunity to explore completely new ecosystems. I’m not a huge fan of judging dives, ranking one above another - it’s as though we expect the ocean and the animals to perform for us, to put on a good show, as if it’s somehow about us! No, I love every dive I get to do, because it’s an incredible gift to visit these worlds, worlds that we are truly just visitors to. However, the actual conditions, experience, and biodiversity were notably better than on Koh Tao (and many other locations for that matter). It’s very daunting for me to try to describe it, and we do have some decent video, which I will eventually share. What I can say is that we were enveloped by walls of shimmering fish, surrounded by soft, flowery, vibrant corals, and delighted by traffic of marine life appearing before our eyes, all experienced while swimming around giant, rocky pinnacles reaching from the ocean floor to the surface.
One of my favorite aspects of our time in Koh Lanta was the connections we made with people, both foreigners and locals. David and Linda boarded the boat to Hin Muang and Hin Daeng with us, with their 9 month old babe, Cere, in tow. Though I was a little skeptical, she did amazingly on the boat (as did her parents), and I enjoyed playing with her and talking with her parents about their lives in Lanta and back home in Sweden. They had been on Koh Lanta for almost three months, made possible by their one and a half years of PAID maternity AND paternity leave. They had a similar opportunity when their 3 year old daughter was born, and they clearly feel so passionate about being parents and being together as a family, especially during the early months of their children’s lives. David and I talked at length on the ride back about what it is like to have that right (I believe it should be a right to take time off to be with your children, distinct from it being a privilege, which it often is in the U.S.). What it’s like to live in a country whose politics truly favor family over other virtues like productivity. The people in power in the U.S. promulgating family values are often the same people flinging hateful bigotry all over the place, standing in the way of new families developing and tearing families apart. Telling women and every company in America that they know better when it comes to family planning and reproductive health. Standing in the way of gender equality, equal pay, and other important measures that would truly support families. Of course, the U.S. is a much different place than Sweden, but we could make a start, and I think that start would be mandatory paid time off for both mothers and fathers. Did you know that U.S. is the only developed nation that does not guarantee paid maternity or paternity leave for its workers? That the UK guarantees 39 weeks of paid leave for mothers, two of which are mandatory. Australia offers 18 weeks. And Mexico, the US’s neighbor to the south, gives mothers 12 weeks of paid leave, reimbursed at 100% of their salary? We clearly have room to improve.
Another special person was, Boy, (everyone called him this), our neighbor at Simply Life who also, in some way, took care of the place and ran parts of the business. We thought maybe his mom owned it. At any rate, he’s well known in the town, and although he’s clearly a social butterfly, very interested in the bigger world, always busy coming and going, he did stick fairly close to home. He was dutiful in his care of the gardens, watering here and there throughout the day, lamenting that it was a big job for just one person. It seemed like he might be the type to dream of living in a big city, occupying a “bigger life,” but I sure enjoyed bantering with him on a daily basis, and he left us with a really positive feeling about our time in Koh Lanta. Maybe that’s because he didn’t treat us like tourists, but really acted as though we were neighbors.
Lastly, a quick acknowledgment of our dive instructor, Stef. She was the most present, thorough, professional, spunky, kind, and fun dive guide I’ve ever had - the type of person I could really trust, and I could really see that she gives her work everything she’s got. I so appreciate guides who actually guide you through a dive - pointing out interesting coral or animals that I might not have seen on my own, teaching me something about animal behavior, and really just helping me to see where I am, to understand, just a tiny bit, what a place is all about. She was a real gem.
