Koh Samui Part 3

Much of the scenery around Ang Thong Marine Park looks like this: aqua waters, palm trees and white sands against a backdrop of steep rocky cliffs covered in dense foliage.


I remain unsure about what you're supposed to do with these, though I'm pretty sure that your six pack goes in the big blue esky. Cleaning is a nightmare, particularly after a lunch of Tom Yum Goong. Fortunately, the nearby ocean came to my rescue, though Ang Thong isn't quite as "pristine" as it was before this English teacher went on holiday.


Another typical Ang Thong scene. Later in the day we went in search of the setting of Alex Garland's novel (and subsequent film) "The Beach." The premise is that a community of young western backpackers renege their obligations toward their fellow man and seek out earth's last unspoilt location in order to fill it with their pollution, politics and whining to the soundtrack of utterly forgettable late 90s chill out music. The current location is full of tourists jostling for space on the beach, couples pretending to be in love, and French men shouting at their wives as the aforementioned wives laugh at their stupid frog-like faces.


West and I waited for a sad couple pretending to be in love behind us to move on to someone else's backdrop for a good 5 minutes before taking this photo. It is on the "Beach" beach. I wanted a backdrop unspoilt by lies and/or deceit but still cannot rid myself of the image of that poor besotted young man's face. As the camera clicked, I said "love you long time" which in Thailand means until the next morning. A short time, by contrast, is an altercation on the stairs costing 100 baht.


No words in this entry, just pictures of me! In this one I am sitting at the lookout over the Emerald Lake at Ang Thong. A veritable shitload of tourists visit this during good weather but our man on the ground, Dave, timed his run perfectly and we had it all to ourselves.


Colourful, innit? Koh Samui is dotted with all of these Buddhist shrines around the island. Drivers honk their horns on the way past and the people give gifts of incense, coconuts and Fanta.


The road home. Ciao Samui.

Koh Samui Part 2

I was fascinated by this bird which made sounds exactly like that of a human. Unfortunately I didn't have my camera handy on the beach later that day when a bona fide Hornbill sidled up next to me. Ooh it were lovely!


The author on a longboat on the journey from Tong Sala to Koh Phangan. The pilot of these ships (below) has to hug the coast so the rapidly changing weather doesn't catch him stranded at sea - and in considerable danger. When the captain picked us up from our secluded beach at 4 pm as requested, he offered to take us all the way back to Koh Samui - a good 15 km in open waters. I assumed he was joking due to the approaching storms, but Lianne assured me it has been done before: several years ago one of her drunk friends decided to make the Phangan-Samui trip in a longboat and made it, though they don't speak anymore.


Our pilot steers our trusty bucket o' rust - "The Thai Princess" - in for shore after a good few months at sea. I really get into it whenever I'm on a boat. I'm usually leading the crew in bellowing out a few favourite sea shanties, teaching landlubbers the lingo of the waves, and drinking rum until ye puke.


What's Thai for "hard a starboard?" The captain sits up front and gives directions, and otherwise helps the pilot negotiate tight spots in the harbour by using a barge pole to push on the dock and the sea floor.

On the Tuesday we caught a fast ferry from Samui called the SeaTran. It plows its way up and down the Gulf of Thailand, finishing its run up at Bangkok after having ducked in at a few places on the way. We bought a ticket for Koh Phangan, an island more northerly and slightly smaller than Samui, famous for hosting its monthly Full Moon Parties on Haadrin Beach. At a recent fixture, Haadrin was host to 30 000 patrons who had come to party it up on its tiny beach. Cruising past in our longboat, I kept glancing around in disbelief that this was actually the beach and felt sure there was a larger one just around the headland. But the one I was looking at was indeed the famous Full Moon Beach.

Tourism is a double edged sword. Every jet that zoomed in over my head as I swam the waters at Big Buddha Beach represented thousands upon thousands of dollars for those working in the hospitality industry on Samui. True, people derive wages and feed their families from this. But the tourists bring their arrogance and their waste also. At high tide every day, all kinds of shit washes up on the shore: fuel cans from boats, beer bottles and potato chip wrappers. We cannot leave paradise alone.I watch in disbelief as a French backpacker throws her cigarette on the ground at Namuang waterfall and smothers it into the earth. Why do you come?

I think this awareness was behind West's request of "if we spend just one day on a secluded beach with no other tourists around I will be happy." So we set out for Tong Sala on Koh Phangan and connected with a taxi bus across to Haadrin. There are no roads on the east coast of Phangan so connections are made by these longboats, and after looking at a map we chose a beach called Wae Nam. The sand was coarse, and so hot that the only sunbathers ran for the limited shade on offer. We swam and lay around and read and it was idyllic. At one point 5 workmen came over and cut some bamboo for a bungalow they were making. I wondered what Stephen Bryant of Montage Interiors would say about two guys working and three supervising. Briefly. Late in the day a hornbill swept over the beach and landed on a branch right next to the cafe I was sitting in. Funny that I happened to be reading a book on the birds of Thailand at the time, my interest having been piqued by that cheeky talking bird at the cafe we had breakfast in earlier (which turned out to be a mynah). So rather than running for my camera I was leafing through my book in an attempt to identify the bird of paradise in front of me. In a future age, it is my hope that I will just enjoy looking at the bird.


On the way into Wae Nam Beach. It had a cafe and some bungalows, but no one was making noise or asking anxious questions about getting the best deal or otherwise talking about themselves.


Having made it back to Haadrin, the heavens opened. Within 3 minutes the roads became rivers, but it all subsided just as quickly.

On the night before her departure for Bangkok and Incheon, West and I drank wine on the beach and compiled a Top 5 of the best things we did in the last week. In my list, there was a mix of the random and the organised. This adventure to Koh Phangan was partly organised and partly making it up on the spot and it made the Top 5. In fact in the near future when I am faced with 35 screaming Koreans every 40 minutes I will look back on this day and remember the peace and adventure of when we hired a longboat to explore a tropical island. But perhaps the most impressive thing of the entire week was the most expensive and most structured activity we took. On the Thursday we joined a diving crew and journeyed to Ang Thong Marine Park for the day. The next entry will be about snorkelling in paradise.

Koh Samui Part 1

On the morning of Saturday, July 31 I took my things and rested on this beach for a few moments. The reception for the bungalow I was to be staying in was not yet open so I sat down in what was to be my backyard for the next week. The previous evening I had taken off from Incheon, Korea, on a Jeju Air flight bound for Bangkok, and wandered the airport through the night in search of a comfortable bench to fall asleep on. Here, Suvarnabhumi Airport could learn from the Koreans at Incheon and provide lounge seats for those facing an extended layover. But these things cost money I suppose, and I relish every opportunity I get for travel now so I wasn't complaining much.

The flight was one of the better ones I've had. (Here I am comparing flights, only 2 years after thankfully losing my embarrassing status as an flight-virgin). I was able to look out my west-facing window on the lights of eastern China and imagine a time in the near future when I too will stand on the soil of that country. At present, Shanghai holds a great deal of allure for me, but more about that later.

What troubled me (though I'm not sure how to articulate why) was that the Korean fascination for Koi-Boi-Bo, or Paper-Scissors-Rock, wormed its way into our cabin part way through the flight. This wasn't the kids behind me settling the who-gets-the-last-piece-of-kimchi score, but the entire cabin participating in an attempt to win one of four Jeju Air diaries courtesy of the airline. Everyone was welcomed aboard, the cabin crew give each other their shit-we-have-a-foreigner-on-board look, I wink my correction at them: you've-got-a-good-looking-foreigner-and-appearance-is-all-that-counts-while-we're-still-on-the-ground-in-fucking-Korea, we take off, the cabin crew disappear for a few moments...then reappear in Hawaiian shirts and sombreros for games. The Koreans are on holiday.

Perhaps I was worried about them losing face if the plane were to nose dive into the China Sea?

How do you know you are in another country? Is it in the behaviour of people? Within half an hour of landing in Bangkok 3 women had flirted with me. In 4 months in Korea my contact with the opposite sex has been restricted to those occasional moments on the subway when an influx of passengers at Moran pushes commuters together momentarily. It took a day or two to relax into this south east Asian set up where women are just as likely to initiate contact as are the men. Early on in the trip I remember having the strong feeling that Thailand reminded me of Australia. On reflection, I think this indicates the state of mind of someone still getting used to living abroad. Or perhaps that anything after Korea would seem like home! I think the exact sentiment was "Thailand seems more like Australia than it does Korea."


Transiting passengers "bench down" for the night around 3 in the morning at Bangkok Airport (Suvarnabhumi), their resistance to sleep finally overcome.

We set out from Bangers at 6 in the morning, the powerful jets of our 737 reducing Bangkok to Samui to a 45 minute puddle jump. I have spent longer than that on a train between Macarthur and Tahmoor, praying that Brendan Gomola doesn't notice me underneath my hat and dark glasses. Bangkok is a city of 10 million people and a haven for TEFL teachers, though the wages on offer are weak and only ever allow teachers to tread water. Unfortunately, I am saving money and am able to travel with my current job here in Korea...


A wingshot over Bangkok, 6am Saturday 31 July.

Which made the first night in Koh Samui the perfect opportunity to blow off 4 months of steam. And I dutifully pulled an all-nighter, making friends with the locals after West had decided to pack it in for the night. Though probably the most depressing moment of the holiday was in going to the girly bar across the road and in having the working girls overlook me in favour of my exotic-lesbian-friend West. And it was her name they continued to call after that first night. Stumbling back to the beach at 6:30 the next morning, the rising sun caught my glasses sitting there in the middle of the beach. They probably shouldn't have been there. They should have been on my head. I hope whoever took them from me and put them there gets his comeuppance.

One of the things I love about being overseas is to experience a new place on foot. Trains and buses mean that the scenery zips by, and this can be just what you need if you're pressed for time. But using your feet means that native life unfolds at a walking pace. I never would have been able to buy things, feel the warmth of Samui or even smell the air if I'd been sitting in a bus. And sometimes it enables you to capture the pictures you've been hoping for:


Fishing boats at low-tide


A bunch of the local fruit, Rambutan. If you peel it with your nail it will go black, but if you twist the skin in two roughly equal hemispheres, the skin slips right off. Local knowledge.


A crab


The author chills with Big Buddha. (That's just his DJ name by the way - his real name is Norman).