krabi, not crabby.

Shameful, this month-long interlude between postings...undoubtedly a result of the slower-paced Thai lifestyle and an unfortunate obstruction to picture-taking (due to some stolen items on the island of Koh Phi Phi). Looking back, it is bizarre to recount the hesitation I felt when first landing in Bangkok en route to India; I had considered taking a bus into the city to enjoy my 9 hour layover, experiencing a brief introduction to Thai culture rather than meager (at best) entertainment in the airplane terminal, but in the end opted to wait on account of a) not wanting to activate my 30 day visa too early and b) cultural intimidation. Now, I laugh at this thought. So many of my traveling companions have described Bangkok using such terms as chaotic, disorderly, dirty; funnily enough, the only people I have met that describe it as clean and organized (like myself) are those returning from India. The streets are so predictably navigated, the drivers are seemingly responsible (though I have since been told that there is no regulation for driving in Thailand, aside from two hours of experience), and the city as a whole is remarkably Western. Surely there are exceptions to this general pleasantness, like the cheap housing accommodations that offer a po-dunk fan, cinder block walls, and a windowless perimeter for roughly seven dollars. Unable to put myself in an asylum such as this, I instead coughed up double the money for triple the comfort on Rambuttri Road (the little sister to Khao San Road, of "The Beach" fame). Outside my front door were vendors selling crappy clothing and flip flops to the new travel recruits that had not yet learned to effectively haggle, but they offered good bargaining experience which has come in quite handy down the [travel] road. Better still is a vast selection of the best and cheapest food stalls in much of the country at no more than $2 a plate: spicy shrimp salad with glass noodles…som tom (green papaya salad with salted baby shrimp)…mango sticky rice with coconut sauce. ..lychees and mango steed.

With so much to see in my one month in Thailand, I had contacted my good friend Rakhal for recommendations, since he has traveled through the country practically every year since we met. As if the travel fates weren't already blessing me with a splendid trip, they gave me Rocky, as we call him, in person…just returned from an exhausting stint in China and Mongolia and in need of recuperation like myself. I welcomed our mutual tiredness by rejecting the guilt that accompanies going to the cinema in a foreign country, partly due to the regalness of the venue. The Paragon Theatre is located in Siam Square, one of two shopping malls in Bangkok and the wealthier of the two. How do I know? Um, the floor dedicated to Lamborghini's. It is so popular that taxi drivers often kick you out of the car before you have the opportunity to reach your destination: its faster to walk. The theatre was every movie lover’s dream: comfortable reclining seats, 2 dollar beers sold at the concession stand, and a cultural mecca since viewers are obligated to stand for the Ode to the King that precedes the film. I have every intention of returning for a second flick in the final days of my travels, but in the same vein as splurging on a posh 5-star hotel, I will instead upgrade to hiring my own private bartender under the V.I.P. ticket.

Culture and celebration were definitely not missed while in Bangkok. In fact, the former was made easy by water boats costing a measly 50 cents per ride (and offering endless amusement in the form of "lady boys", or "shims" as we call them, working as ticket agents). Via said boat, I toured one of Bangkok’s most reputed sights with Rocky’s girlfriend Annabel: the Grand Palace…most easily described as "bling". The Thais in the area were all using umbrellas on the Palace grounds to shield themselves from the sun (great value is placed upon pale skin, so much so that whitening lotions and deodorants are the norm), but I argue the sun shade was for bling deflection. The stupas are adorned in gold, the doors are patterned with mother of pearl, and roofs are tiled shiny blue. Annabel, who is more familiar with the customs of Buddhism from her extensive travels, explained that in prayer, Buddhists light incense sticks bound to a lotus flower and place them in either sand banks or buckets in front of the Buddha statues or, alternatively, adhere pieces of gold leaf to the statues themselves; worshipers kneel, careful not to face their feet pointing at the Buddhas, and while placing their hands together (finger to finger, palm to palm) bow in what looks like a yoga pose three consecutive times; when walking the perimeter of the wat (or temple), it must be done in a clockwise motion, including entering through the left-most door and exiting through the right-most door (the central door is used only by the King and Queen of Thailand).

And the celebration, oh the celebration. Though I generally avoided the mess that is Khao Sahn Road, it was all too appropriate to partake in the madness for the World Cup Finals. Stationed at an Irish Pub with Rocky and Annabel, we tried our damnedest to stay awake for the 1:30 a.m. start, a feat that was facilitated by the out of control drinking which makes the road famous. In fact, one bar is titled Strong Drinks Bar with a disclaimer stating "we don't check IDs". Walking along this street is horrible on an average night, but throw into the mix a highly competitive soccer match with as many Dutch travelers in orange as there were Spanish in red, and you have a heated match which lasted until well past 4:00 a.m. Many of the folks who perpetuate the Khao San reputation were at it at all hours of the day, including a rasta man who was infatuated with the Mehndi still inked on my hands and would attempt to kiss them each morning while nursing an open a.m. beer. Outside the throws of the backpacker’s center, however, is the Chatuchuck weekend market with an excess of 10,000 stalls. Here you can purchase anything you wish and, like the rest of Bangkok, it is bizarrely organized by item: pets, terrariums, vintage cowboy boots, silver jewelry, asiatic pottery, levis knock-offs, etc. When being transported by taxi, Rocky and I often joked that we were passing through the “chair district” followed by the “metal fittings district” and so forth. After wandering for nearly three hours in Chatuchuk, one hour of which was dedicated to trying to find the stalls which I had passed early in the day but naively thought I would return to after perusing other items, I finally got out of dodge with my wallet a little lighter…and, presumably, my friends a little happier.

Ready to leave the big city and the shirtless Abercrombie models that wander its streets (everyone is inordinately attractive and collectively forget that they are no longer beachside and therefore in need of clothing), I left via night bus with a Belgian traveler named Laure who I met ever-so-briefly at a food stall serving the aforementioned glass noodles on Rambuttri Road. I was less than enthused by the herding of sheep sensation on the touristic bus trip (most travelers were white 20 somethings en route to Koh Phangan for the infamous full moon party). We were subjected to crappy food at the mandatory bus rest stops en route to our final destination and the seats, oh the seats, bounced so violently with the road bumps that it became a source of amusement rather than annoyance. Unlike the rest of the bus, however, I was headed to Koh Phi Phi off the western coast of beautiful Krabi province. In retrospect, beginning one's Thailand adventures with beach time is less productive than ending them...but then again I have always been a fan of “palindromes” and might find myself beachside again. Recounting the awe of my first glances of the remarkably beautiful limestone rock formations of the Krabi province, I find myself counting the minutes until I can return. Maybe tomorrow? Southern Thailand is immensely different from Northern, though I can only assert this in retrospect since I now have the comparison to make. Prices are high and you are more or less locked into the numbers set forth by tour companies because once on the island, options are few. The trip from the mainland to the island itself occurs over 1.5 hours on a ferry boat which travels only twice per day, and we (my Belgian compatriot and I) were fortunate to have front row seats on the bow of the boat. Small uninhabited islands were everywhere; fishing boats that were over dramatized in shape (almost cartoon-esque) were both heading to sea and waving at the tourists onboard; strange eel like fish were skipping across the surface of the water like flat rocks on a river. Upon docking, we found the representative for our hotel waiting for our arrival, along with a long boat to take us to our home around the crux of the island. The good news is it was secluded from the party-goers that monopolize the main beach, the bad news is the boats only operate until sunset after which you have no choice but to stay at the hotel. But we did learn a few fancy tricks during our stay at Relax Resort: most open bottles of booze have been watered down... just order a glass of vodka [neat] and you’ll see. Because our first night was a bit boring in light of our solitude, we took a walk through the jungle to the main beach the next morning and found alternate accommodations, a bungalow on the beach beneath Tonsai Tower. It was picturesque, to be sure, had a fruit shake stand with delicious watermelon shakes, open access to beautiful turquoise water, and a good view of the rock climbers attempting to set a new 5.13a route. The island itself is shaped like a butterfly, with one side erupting in inordinate noise and partying each night...apparently this has grown since the tsunami in 2004 when the formerly charming beach bungalows were replaced by high end resorts. I made the mistake of checking out the scene one night and, opting to take a beautiful moonlit swim down the beach from the madness, found myself without a camera, phone, and 10,000 baht (300 dollars) upon returning to the dune where I had left them. I chose then and there not to be angry, because frustration won’t replace my belongings but it will ruin my trip. So I instead rebuilt my negative impression of the island with: a) a charming Frenchman named Vincent and his 14 year old flamboyantly gay son Martin, b) the goal of trying a new Thai sweet every day (oh, the coconut donuts), and c) a camping trip to Maya Bay, also of “The Beach” fame. Earlier in my travels, I heard that the normal daytime visit to the bay is overrated and overrun with tourists, but the camp trip is amazing so Laure and I opted to fork over the big bucks and join seven other campers for a night on the island. We took a two story boat off Phi Phi and a brief stop to snorkel and explore some of the crevasses on the island’s far side. I was the first to jump from the top of the boat and the only to snorkel (mind you, I freaked out every time the coral ended and the deep water began). To reach the bay itself, the water is rough so they have installed rope lines that serve as a quasi under-water tight rope walk that prevents you from being forced into the rocks with incoming waves, then a steep stairway leading to a short path on the back of Maya Bay itself. For those who know the film, there’s a scene in which Leonardo DiCaprio and the french girl wake in the middle of the night and run through a jungle path to the beach, where they proceed to swim with plankton. That’s the path, and that’s the beach, and there are plankton. Though the whole adventure was grand…from the games to the fire dancing to the experiment of seeing how hard a crab can actually pinch...but best of all was being the first to wake and set foot on the beach at sunrise. I took a kayak out into the bay, just me and the waves, and will never forget the peace of that isolated beach.