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).
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