Kanchanaburi - Vacation within a vacation

Sophia's real name is Lee Ji Hye. A lot of Koreans seem to chose Western nicknames, probably because of our total inability to remember Korean names. She was alone on a whirlwind tour of Thailand that was just coming to an end, and Kanchanaburi was her last destination. She clearly knew the secret to traveling alone: meeting people. I was hoping she could impart some of that wisdom on me.

We arrived in town after a short hour and a half bus ride. It was quite nice not being assaulted by the hustle and bustle of Khao San Road. Here, the streets were wide, the buildings classic, the people unhurried. A man riding a bicycle taxi rolled up and managed to cram both of us and our luggage into his apparatus for the 5km stretch to the hotel. his calf muscles were disproportionately huge. The hotel was beautiful. Riverside, bathroom, wifi, and very very cheap.

So what's so special about Kanchanaburi? Well, it's a remarkably flat stretch of land just outside of Bangkok that's flanked on all sides by beautifully dramatic cliffs. It's built along a clean, swimable river and many Thais and tourists enjoys it's general laid-backness and wealth of outdoor activities. It also has a lot of history attached to it. Cutting through the town is the infamous Death Railway, a railway that Japanese occupiers built using POW labor. Thousands were worked to death, and the war ended before the railway reached it's intended destination: Rangoon. In the northern part of town, the railway crossed the Bridge Over the River Kwai, a poignant symbol of the war and it's heavy casualties. Throughout town are numerous museums, cemeteries and memorials dedicated to the area's tragic history.

We rented motorbikes for the day. So many of the attractions are so spread out that it would have been inconvenient and expensive to do it any other way. Plus, at 150 baht a day, come on. We went everywhere. Just outside of town, burgundy fields stretched out across the landscape. Cows and chickens grazed freely and the hazy, yet discernible cliffs formed a second horizon in the distance. We went to a monkey school and a lonely gibbon held my hand. When I took it away, she would tap my shoulder and extend her hand outwards again. The poor dear. We attempted a shortcut through some fields and I got stuck in the mud. That was a fun distraction. The sun was setting and the sky was bright orange and red; you'd almost expect the choppers to rise over the palm trees at any moment.

The Bridge Over the River Kwai was a little underwhelming, but enhanced by the classic Indochinese sunset. Lots of tourists were there taking pictures. There were no guardrails or safety precautions, and at one point the train came while we were still on the bridge. We had to stand precariously on the edge while it passed. I'd like to see the statistics for how many people died on this bridge AFTER the war had ended.

The sun finally set and we hit the night market. Sophia dared me to eat a Thai pepper and I did. Searing dry heat had be throwing on my sunglasses in an attempt to maintain some dignity. Of course it didn't work, and I suffered the full brunt of my mistake. It was a quiet, quiet night, so i jumped in the river before going to bed.

The next day we rode elephants. It's pretty surreal being on top of these giant beasts. You really can't fathom how big they are until they are right in your face. Their skin is like sandpaper, so riding one while wearing shorts can be a little abrasive. They would reel, make loud noises, pull leaves off of trees and occasionally drop giant turds with an audible "THUMP!". The elephant experience. Not to mention the smell. At the end, the elephant waded down into the river for the second part of the tour, bathing the elephants. The brochure called it "bathing with the elephants", but I won't call it that considering that most people emerge filthier than when they went in. The huge creature got down while we scrubbed it's rough skin. It's trunk occasionally surfaced like a giant sea monster and blasted a puff of air. The locals had a good laugh at our clumsiness and apprehension. Afterwards, off to the shower to wash off the elephant stink.

After a second tour of the night market, we walked past a stretch of bars before settling on an outdoor reggae bar. It was empty, and a reggae bar, which I guess is better than being full of ruddy old men and Thai escorts, like all of the other bars. Posters advertised a celebration for Bob Marley's birthday which I found amusing. I swear, a new form of religion is taking shape. the bassist for the house band let me tap around on the drums for a bit, which I appreciated.

I spent the remainder of my time in Kanchanaburi swinging in a hammock listening to music. Sophia shared her playlist with me. Luther Vandross. India Arie. I played her some Junior Boys and Charlotte Gainsbourg. Tomorrow we were heading back to Bangkok where I would meet up with Adam again and see what kind of trouble he got up to since Koh Pha Ngan.

My first stretch traveling alone was enlightening to say the least. At times refreshing and at times maddening. I'll do it again before this trip is over, I'm sure. Maybe I'll do a whole trip by myself some day? I looked over and Sophia had already fallen asleep in her hammock. I'm really never alone, I thought to myself.

EDIT: Recovered 2 pictures

Hilarious picture.

Sophia in a tuk-tuk.

WHOA-HO-HOA!

I'm jumping ahead a bit, but I have to post this.

Bokeo Nature Reserve, Laos. from Jon Linke on Vimeo.

Bangkok - Welcome to the real jungle

I made a bad call. It was noon and no buses were heading from Ranong to Bangkok until 4. Rather than wait, I caught a bus back to Chumphon in an attempt to maybe intercept something coming from the south. I was deposited in the previously mentioned rural bus station (actually only 20km outside of town). It was practically deserted. Derelict buildings enclosed the bus station; built, but never inhabited. No sign of any businesses. No one was sold on this far flung bus station idea. It didn't look good for my plan.

The next bus was coming from Ranong, I was told. However, it was full, and I had to wait until 8 for a bus with a seat. So yeah, that was my bad call. I spent four hours in that depressing bus station until well past nightfall. I bided my time by writing that epic Ko Pha Ngan entry, my current anger perhaps detectable in between the lines. I ate snack stand food for dinner. The bus rolled in on time and I eagerly hopped on as others dashed off to pee. It was coming from Phuket, so there were a lot of people who had to pee. Inside, there were lots of empty seats. I took turns sitting in different ones and getting kicked out until I found the one seat that was unoccupied. Actually a very frustrating thing to have to do. The last passenger aboard was in the seat beside me, a very large African man. He was more of a man and a half actually. I was compelled towards the aisle by his inherent broadness. My 7 hours to Bangkok had begun.

Shockingly, the bus went the whole seven hours without a pit stop. We glided over overpasses and under underpasses until we settled at a bus terminal. It was 2am and I needed to get to Khao San Road. Now, if you haven't heard of Khao San Road, do yourself a favour and Google it. It is the backpacker epicenter of Southeast Asia. the jump-off point to the entire region, from Vietnam to Indonesia. As such, it is densely packed with everything tat caters to the just-out-of-college traveling-on-my-parents'-money crowd. It is not Thailand. It is the Byward Market on a Friday night, every night. But, it is also very cheap and convenient, otherwise I probably would have gone elsewhere. Bars openly advertised their strong cocktails that had the ability to get you very very drunk. No one was there to sip sloe gin fizz and play backgammon, only to get drunk as quickly and cheaply as possible, nothing more.

I arrived on a Friday night, so festivities were in full swing. Drunkards, bars blasting Oasis and Flo Rida, touts, hookers, lots of neon. A terrible first impression. I had to navigate this fray and find somewhere to hunker down for the remaining hours of the night. The place I found was tiny, but it had a cheap bunk for me. It was very hot and crowded. Loud music thumped audibly outside. I slept warily.

Next morning I got a private room. No more sleeping in a warren. The room was only a little bit wider than the bed itself, but wide enough for me. While I was checking in, some trashy dude with a Counting Crows gone Krishna hairstyle hastily exited the hostel while the owner yelled at him. He didn't pay and was skipping out on the bill. These are the people of Khao San Road I would come to learn. I slept until noon.

Next day I ventured out to buy a new camera. As you may recall, my last one got wrecked during the Songkran festivities, so I was in the market for something relatively similar to replace it. I walked back out onto Khao San Road. Thankfully it was more sane. Vendors had rolled out onto the streets selling T-shirts plastered with frat-boy humour. At the end of the street, tuk tuk drivers formed a phalanx trying to rope people into their "anywhere 5 baht" scam. This "anywhere" they speak of actually involves numerous trips to tailors and jewelry stores and a wasted afternoon, so, like a game of Red Rover, I blustered through them and made my way to the bus stop.

The number 15 bus rolled through Siam Square, kind of like the Times Square or Picadilly Circuis of Bangkok. I was told there were numerous camera stores in that area. What I wasn't told however, was that the entire area had become a nesting ground for the Red Shirts, a protest group that seeks to dissolve parliament and has been stirring up all kinds of trouble lately. They had turned the entire length of road underneath the Skytrain into a makeshift ghetto. The roads all around were closed off with tires and bamboo sticks with red flags on them. Everywhere, Red Shirt paraphernalia was being sold and rallying cries were blaring out of megaphones. Evidently this protest had some serious weight behind it. There were hundreds of people sleeping, lining up for food, walking about. In the dead center of the fenced off area, a massive rally was taking place. Everyone's shirt was red. A woman on stage was singing what sounded like a protest song while everyone fervently cheered. Banners placed behind the stage, in full view of the TV cameras, announced in English and Thai that they were not terrorists. I grabbed a few shots with my Rollei and moved onwards to try and find a store that had not been shut down.

Thankfully, the protests had not affected MBK, the massive shopping complex closeby. Inside I located a camera store and eventually a new camera. It was a slightly crappier Canon, but I didn't want to break the bank given the average life expectancy of electronics under my care. Having acquired what i came for, I set out again through the thick of the protesters.

Back on Khao San I grabbed some pad Thai and chewed pensively. Yes I will go out and try to meet people tonight. I knew it would be tough for me though. In Indonesia and Malaysia, there was a small handful of fellow backpackers around at all times, and it was usually pretty easy to strike up a decent conversation. Here, I was witnessing the Rape of Siam, hundreds of party animals roaming in packs, no one out to make friends or alliances it seemed. Everyone for themselves. Lonely Planet pointed me in the direction of a bar that supposedly played good music, but it was closed. Having a copy that is two editions too old can be a pain sometimes. I found another place that was nice. A rooftop bar allowed for excellent views of the surrounding temples that were lit up at night. I hung out for a bit, enjoying the view, then left to find someplace else.

I passed a huge gaggle of Japanese backpackers along the way and decided to see if any of my language skills still held up. A guy and his girlfriend seemed pretty surprised by my ability to converse with them. They invited me to sit down and have a beer with their group. Always easier to break the ice in another language. The evening ended with with me agreeing to go to Kanchanaburi the next day with Sophia, the lone Korean girl that found her way into the group. It happened so quickly, but I told myself to never pass up an opportunity for new experiences. Plus, the vulgarity of Khao San Road after only one night was already too much to handle. I would be back in Bangkok soon enough though.

Entrance to the Red Shirt ghetto.

Red Shirt rally.

Ranong/Kawthaung

The boat from Koh Tao landed in Chumphon, the gateway town between northern and southern Thailand. My next destination would have been Bangkok, but there was a small problem. My pathetic 14-day visa was nearly expired and I had to make a dash for the nearest border to renew it. The closest border happened to be about 3 hours south west, in Myanmar. For those who don't know, Myanmar, aka Burma, is one of the worst countries in the world. In 1962, the military led a coup against the government and destabilized the entire country. Since then, it has been under a corrupt regime that brutally suppresses any kind of dissent. It is one of the poorest and dysfunctional nations in Southeast Asia. This is where I had to go. Northern Thailand would have to wait.

While waiting in Chumphon, I realized that the only remarkable thing about the place is that the bus station is a whopping 50km outside of town. Thankfully I found a minibus and didn't have to venture that far out. The minibus was small, cramped and sinfully hot. I started reading my new book, but the heat made reading unenjoyable. It made everything unenjoyable actually, most notably the whole goddamn ride. An old man coughed up something ungodly in the seat in front of me. It was rough, but 3 hours of this would be a piece of cake compared to some other rides I'd taken by that point.

The town I was heading for was called Ranong. It sits on the Kraburi River, across from the town of Kawthaung in Myanmar. Boats run between the two towns and stop at immigration checkpoints on islands along the way, forming one of only three border crossings between the two countries that are open to the public. The border crossings themselves are kind of superficial, as transportation further into Myanmar is prohibited. My plan was to dip into Kawthaung, check it out for an hour, then head back with a brand new 14-day Thai visa. Unless I tried to start some kind of worker's rebellion, it would be an easy in and out.

At Ranong, the doors of the bus opened and everyone emerged like steamed dumplings. It was 5pm and the border was already closed by then so I found a hotel room and decided to get the visa run done early the next morning. The restaurant in the hotel lobby was silent, but strewn with memories of high season. The only signs of life were the owner, her niece and a newborn litter of kittens on the corner. Knowing Ranong's reputation for being somewhat of a dump, I eschewed exploring in favor of playing with the kittens for an hour or so. It was a very quiet and relaxing evening.

next morning it was Burmatime. I brought only the essentials and left the rest back in my hotel room, hoping to make it back by checkout time. I hopped a songthaew to the pier. Thai immigration stamped me out and I haggled a good price for a return trip across the river. Next, I had to find a US ten dollar bill. See, Myanmar border officers require $10USD to let you in, and they only accept flawless bills for some odd reason. Any bill I had probably wouldn't have cut it. Thankfully, some industrious young man made a profit selling crisp tens in a cellophane sleeve to visa runners. With everything taken care of on the Thai side, it was time to make footprints into Myanmar.

The Burmese immigration post sat high on stilts above the water. There, a young boy collected everyone's passports and hopped across other parked boats and up to the waiting guards. Not sure exactly what happened, but everything went OK and we pressed onwards. A "Welcome to Myanmar" sign greeted us along with a generous amount of touts. I blustered past to what I guess was the other immigration booth. I daintily presented my $10 bill to the officer. "Are you buying any alcohol or cigarettes?" the stern man asked. I replied "no", and he stamped me in then immediately out again. Some dudes started ushering me back to the boat so I kicked up a fuss. Myanmar is one of the most oppressive and dysfunctional countries in the world. There was no way I was NOT going to see it. They agreed to let me walk around for an hour IF I was accompanied the whole time and IF I bought something. You can see where their priorities lay here.

My tour started at a T-shirt shop where I made my mandatory purchase. My two guides were probably around 18 years old and they chewed and spat a green, leafy substance any time they weren't making a half-assed effort to point out a landmark. The town was pretty run-down and dilapidated, but not nearly as hellish as some travel reports made it out to be. I suspected I was on the "parade route", or a stretch of road groomed for foreign tourists. We went to a Buddhist temple, then past a mosque. The guides stressed how tolerant Myanmar was of different religions. As you can guess, the whole tour I had to bite my tongue. We descended some steps. At the bottom a group of kids were playing in a massive pile of garbage. My tour guides hurried me along. Last stop, a liquor store. I told them that I didn't drink, but that didn't stop them from pushing their marginally cheaper booze on me.

At the end of the tour, my guides both had their hands out and were demanding 100 baht each. I was generally pretty frustrated by the restrictiveness of the entire experience and admonished them for not stating a price earlier. I refused to pay them more than 60 baht each. I didn't feel bad either. This money was going straight to the government anyways.

I made it back to the hotel before checkout time with my fresh visa. I was expecting the whole thing to be way harder and more expensive, but it went really smoothly. So Myanmar, check. Time for an epically long bus ride to Bangkok.

The boat ride across to Myanmar.

My tour guides buying their gross chew n' spit.

Some steps in Kawthaung.

Coconuts drying.

Me, proving I was there.

Koh Tao

Another island, another beach. Koh Tao is highly recommended by almost anyone who visits Thailand and as such, it because a mandatory stop on the trail. It's unfortunate that it's right next to Koh Pha Ngan though. I was starting to get a little tired of beaches by then. I had sand accumulated from every corner of Thailand at the bottom of my backpack. This would end up being the last beach, possibly for the rest of the trip. I had to relish it.

The boat rolled into the pier, jammed with young tourists, all wearing stickers to identify their destinations. At the base of the pier, taxi drivers sat poised. ready to pounce on the fresh stash of cash that waddled off of the boat. The fat and lame were easy prey. I knew where I wanted to go though. Hat Sai Ri was the longest and most developed beach, stretching a good percentage of the west coast of the island. The whole island was tiny compared to Koh Pha Ngan, and with a motorbike it's possible to drive every stretch of road to every corner in a few hours.

Busting away from the herd, I walked north stopping in every downtrodden-looking guesthouse I could find to inquire about room rates. The absolute cheapest I could find was 300 baht, more than I was used to paying (I was alone now after all), but still an utter steal by Western standards. I dropped my stuff then set out exploring the shoreline.

I had seen many beaches by that point, and Hat Sai Ri was quite descent, by my acquired standards. Many restaurants opened up onto the sand so diners could enjoy the view with their meal. Kids splashed about, people were playing volleyball. It occurred to me at that point that I was utterly alone on this island. No one around who knew who I was. An odd feeling, but I enjoyed slipping through the throngs of tourists anonymously and being able to stick to my own schedule, should I chose to make one.

I did, and booked a dive for 6am the next morning. Last chance to dive so I might as well. The rest of the day I had no idea what the hell I should do so I grabbed my Rollei camera and sat on the beach watching the sunset. It was actually the first time in my life I had ever watched the sun physically dip below the horizon. The colours were stunning and, for the first time of what would be many on this trip, I was kind of disappointed to be enjoying this by myself.

I went to bed early and set the alarm on my ipod very thoroughly. Of all the challenges I've faced on this trip, waking up before 6am would be the toughest. I knew this and took appropriate precautions. 5:30 am alarm, headphones out, volume up, ipod next to my ear. No room for error.

I woke up at 6am, the exact time I had to be 500m up the beach at the dive shop. One factor I didn't account for: the type of alarm. I should have picked the James Bond self-destruct sequence alarm, but instead my ipod was set to that quaint Danny Elfman-esque marimba tune. I hate that tune! Instead of waking up I probably fell further asleep and dreamed I was SCUBA diving with the Desperate Housewives. And why the hell is it that when you have to be somewhere, you always wake up at the exact time you have to be there? At least for my lazy ass it's like that. Of course the lights in my room were not working either, so at 6am sharp I awoke thrashing and swearing in the dark, trying to throw my failure of an existence together while Danny Elfman's picadilly soundtrack played in the background.

It was the 500m dash. About halfway, I threw off my flip flops and continued on the beach. The sun was just coming up, and in any other circumstance, it would have been quite a lovely jog, but in this instance, it was a panicked scramble laced with curse words, I got there at around 6:15. Everyone else was late too thank god. I was actually able to pick up breakfast and lunch for later at 7-Eleven before the rest of the divers showed up. They casually strolled in, "Sorry bro, took a long shower" or whatnot. I showed up frothing at the mouth for Christ's sakes. Maybe I'm not aligned with the island's laid back list of priorities. Whatever. I made it. Let's hurry up and dive dickheads.

We did two dives and they were excellent. The particular shop I went to booked a double-header at Chumphon Point, allegedly the most beautiful place to dive around the island. And it was beautiful. About 18 meters down, a vast coral reef unfolded all around us. So many fish. There were barracuda, angelfish, lionfish, groupers and a fish that looked like an honest to god cube. Everyone in the group was a dive master except for me, so I burned through my oxygen quicker and had to ascend earlier. Some French guy seemed miffed because he had a lot of oxygen left I guess. I think he thought that I couldn't understand him too.

I took a nap and decided that I would "go out" that night. I ate dinner by myself on the beach and afterwards ducked my head into a few bars to check out the scene. The most packed place I found was also the most horribly trashy. Huge shirtless dudes drinking out of sand pails, and drunk, unstately girls slurring absurdities. "Gettin' Jiggy With It" played and a group of girls bopped around like drunk relatives at a wedding. It was pretty embarrassing. I actually stayed there longer than I care to admit. Regardless, it ended up being a bad idea, and a terrible place to be if you were by yourself and not a total dudebro. I went to an internet cafe and hung around outside for a bit, leeching wifi to see if anyone was on Skype. No one was so I went to bed.

Next day I packed up and left. Done with the island. With islands. I longed for the city again. For more variety. Different types of people. Places. No more tourist town cliches. I would be in Bangkok in less than two days. On the boat, I drowned out the insipid chatter with music.

Beautiful sunset.

Fire show on the beach.

Ko Pha Ngan

From beach to shining beach.

We were ready to fight for a seat on the bus if necessary. It was a long haul, up off the island then across the peninsula to Surat Thani. The bus clerk said four hours, but that reeked of BS. There was no way I was spending that indeterminate amount of time standing or sitting on a rail or stuffed in a luggage compartment or whatever. We got a seat thankfully, and it's a good thing too as the ride cut close too around seven hours. I'm not sure. I kept dozing off, occasionally waking to the sound of a young boy howling after being slapped upside the head by his grandmother.

We were deposited next to a tourism office in Surat Thani filled with other backpackers. Everyone appeared to be fixed in position, waiting for something. We knew what we wanted. At 11pm, a handful of boats left the Surat Thani night pier for the three main vacation islands on the east coast: Ko Samui, Ko Pha Ngan and Ko Tao. We wanted the boat to Ko Pha Ngan. "750 baht" we were told, but our healthy skepticism kicked in and opted to leave the other entranced travelers and walk to the pier ourselves. "Ticket same price at pier!" We'll see.

On the way to the pier, we grabbed dinner at a night market. It seems like every town has one of these, and they are always sinfully cheap. At the pier we saw the boats loading up. A man in front sold us our ticket: 400 baht. Traveling tip #1: NEVER arrange transportation through a tour company! With our tickets bought, there was nothing left to do but whittle away the next three hours buying snacks and finding cheap Internet.

The boat was interesting. It was a rickety wooden number, the inside lined with bunks. An overnight boat. I wondered how it would hold up against some serious waves and that scene from Amistad aboard the slave ship kept coming to mind. It was a seven hour ride. God help us if they overbooked this thing too.

Thankfully, it was underbooked and I had a good amount of space to spread out in. The lights went out as the boat left the harbour and almost immediately, I fell asleep. I awoke only once, during a particularly turbulent patch. In the long list of my waking up "where the hell am I" moments, this one ranked high. The room was moving and it was pitch black. I regained my bearings and went back to sleep.

The boat pulled into Thong Sala on Ko Pha Ngan just as the sun was coming up. Anyone who off-the-cuff travels knows that arriving at your destination is only half of the battle. Next came actually finding a place to deposit our heavy, heavy backpacks. Adam's sister told him of a wonderful place called Eden located on a beach called Hat Yuan. So off we went in search of Eden.

Ko Pha Ngan has always been a popular stop on the banana pancake trail. It has the distinction of being the premier party island due to it's notorious full moon parties. These parties can attract an upwards of 10,000 people, all getting completely screwed out of their gourds and dancing to psy-trance, a genre of music whose name alone is enough to make a sensible man's balls retract into his abdomen. Sex and drugs are rampant, and, for a time, the island seems to exist outside of the law. Of course, and island known for it's parties is not content having only one party a month, so numerous half-moon parties and black moon parties have taken root. Really, if the moon happens to exist that particular night, people will party. It is Ibiza East.

Thong Sala is the islands administrative capital and main port. The whole island is about 12km in diameter and very very mountainous, making even road travel difficult. The beach we were heading towards, Hat Yuan, required a trip to the other side of the island followed by a short boat ride. As we each rode on the backs of our own motorcycle taxis, the island's, uhm, "culture" became apparent. Signs advertising parties every 10 meters. Bars named "Purple Haze" and "Bar Rasta". An emphasis on red, yellow and green. Ugly, swirling font. An art gallery selling paintings of Bob Marley with a fat joint in his mouth. Tattoo parlours everywhere. An African drum store. So help me god, everything but unicycle rentals. I felt a bit worried. An entire island procured and emblematized by the epitome of Western laziness.

Our taxi bikes stopped on the beaches of Hat Rin, ground zero for the full-moon parties. It was 7am and the town exhuded a certain calm, but remnants of trash and various signage hinted at the debauchery which regularly transpired here. Tiny cramped stalls lined the beach, advertising booze buckets, each trying to outdo the other in sheer vulgarity. Not even clever vulgarity. Just the kind that would maybe tittilate a high school student. Apparently the denizens of Hat Rin have smoked their brains back into adolescence.

From the beach, we caught a boat a few fathoms up to Hat Yuan, where we would finally be able to rest after 24 hours in transit. by then, the sun was high in the sky and the beach was beautiful. We seemed worlds away from the vulgarity of Hat Rin, and much of what we saw seemed downright classy by comparison. Of course, there was a healthy handful of Che Guevara posters and billboards advertising "happy shakes", but just enough to stay within certain boundaries of tastefulness. Like the right amount of bacteria to curdle milk into yoghurt.

Eden was full unfortunately, so we set up elsewhere and I immediately set to work doing nothing. And so it went. For three days straight. Sure, Hat Yuan offered snorkeling and kayaking and all the other fun vacation stuff, but it also offered a quiet beach, a stunning view and a true feeling of time standing still. No one else on the beach could tell you if it was Monday or Saturday. The occasional boat would roar by, but otherwise it was all ocean. Not even a seagull. There's something about the sound of the ocean, especially for someone who rarely gets the opportunity to hear it. The soft swell, lulls like a siren's song, and with each wave it pulls away a layer of burden, bit by bit, until you succumb to it's grand reverie. For three days I listened to that ocean.

When Eden had a vacancy on day 2, we got on board. The pathway to Eden was a cleverly constructed boardwalk that wound up the rocks that lined the outer fringe of the bay. Around one bend that appeared to go nowhere, our lodging gradually revealed itself. It was perched high, overlooking the bay, yet it seemed to sit outside of view from everything else. Like a little secret that we had been let in on. The lodgings themselves were tiny A-frames seamlessly integrated into the hillside, like someone blew them there as seeds and they took root and sprouted up. We met the proprietor, Kang, and he made sure from the getgo that we all remained on a first name basis. No "sir"s, no "man"s, and think Christ no "mistar"s. After we settled, I resumed doing nothing, this time in the hammock thoughtfully provided with our A-frame.

At night, the nights of the bay glew faintly, almost naturally amongst the environment. From the balcony of Eden, they clung to the curvature of the bay like sugar on the rim of a glass. Just around the way, there was undoubtedly some kind of arrant depravity taking place in Hat Rin, but we seemed worlds away. I met another older gentleman from England who was traveling alone. His name was Phil, and he was also a teacher in Korea, however he was only on holiday. He had been teaching on and off again since he was my age, and spoke with an informed knowledge as to why it eventually became his calling. He had been a ratshit kid well into his twenties that was eventually dragged kicking and screaming into adulthood. It took him a long time to realize what he wanted to do with himself, but since he made his decision to teach abroad, he hasn't looked back. Very interesting perspective to say the least.

On day 3 I actually started getting a little restless. The aformentioned reverie eventually turned into ennui. Listlessness. I think I was getting a bug too. Fatigue. But I had to do something. Someone told me that there was a dirt road that led back to Hat Rin, so I set out trying to find it. I honestly didn't think it possible for a road to cut up the steep mountains that encased the bay, but after a little searching, lo and behold, there it was. I followed it. It kept climbing and climbing. Red dust and dirt garnished my legs from the shin down. It was horribly hot that day too, and I had exhausted my 2 litre bottle of water too early. High up, the sea and sky seemed to blur together, no visible horizon, like entire island was floating in a void. I was so very tired. The descent proved to be much easier, but the road didn't reach Hat Rin. It was a further 5km walk to get there along the steep coastline. By then I could officially say that I had been walking all day long. I made it to town, stumbling in like a wounded villager who had just survived an encounter with Grendel. Just then, Adam sped by on a motorbike and picked me up. He had been whizzing about the island all day and was just about to return the bike.

By then, the sun was beginning to set and bodies were amassing on the beach. Stalls were already starting to sell their booze buckets, and it looked like some people were already drunk. The beach itself was beautiful, albeit strewn with cigarette butts. Exhaustion had become frustration with a tiny dose of heat stroke thrown in. I knew I had to get back to Hat Yuan before any psy-trance elevated my mood to full on indignation. We boarded the boat.

I decided that that night would be my last in Ko Pha Ngan. there was still so much more to do, and time was standing a little too still for my taste. Adam wanted to stay however. He had already booked a dive for the next day. So we agreed that we would part ways, making no discerned plan to meet up later. I figured that we'd at least be able to meet in Bangkok. Until then I would go it alone and see if my sanity would hold. Traveling is all about trying new things right?

So at 9am, with Adam already departed for his SCUBA trip, I woke and dutifully packed for my next destination, Ko Tao. Another beach. After bidding Kang farewell, I wrested myself from the island, leaving Adam and the rest behind to further revel in it's capsule.

The path to Eden.

Boardwalk.

Kang, our hotelier.

The higher reaches of Ko Pha Ngan.

Adam's majestic motorbike.

Phuket

Phuket is, in many ways, the Acapulco of Southeast Asia. You would have never heard of it had it not been such a huge tourist hotspot. The whole island is practically lined with beaches and those beaches are lined with beach resorts. Lots of tourists going in which means lots of money. I wanted to check it out mainly to see what all the fuss was about. Plus, it seemed fundamentally wrong to go through Thailand without seeing the pulsing core of the Andaman Coast.

By land you can only enter Phuket from the top. We wrapped around the Gulf of Phuket and landed in Phuket Town in the center of the island; a trip that took a modest 4 hours. However, it should be noted that for 3 hours of the ride, neither Adam nor I had a seat. Adam stood then sat on a hand rest. I sat on the stairs. The floor was hot and had an uncomfortable lined pattern etched into it. By the end of the trip I probably had grill marks on my ass. I already missed Malaysian buses.

It was sinfully hot in Phuket Town. Summer of Sam hot. We walked a good 20 minutes before arriving at our hotel. Thankfully it welcomed us in with a host of amenities and a few bonuses thrown in. It's always sweet, as a backpacker, when you pay for a dorm bed and the entire room ends up being completely empty. Pants. Off.

The entire first day, I unapologetically did nothing but revel in the pleasantries of the Phuket Backpacker's Hostel. Internet, Wifi, Skype, air-conditioned commons area, a huge DVD library. We met a Dutch guy named Bartjan whose face was frozen in a state of perpetual excitiement. His shirt had a picture of himself making the exact same face along with a link to his blog. That evening we went out to the night market in search of food, and managed to pick up a few more traveler along the way, one of which was Yasuhiro from back in Krabi. Nothing else noteworthy happened that night other than the fact that I tried every flavor of Fanta and got a stomachache.

Phuket Town kind of sucks. Well, there are no attractions there, but that's great because it's allowed it to become an oasis of cheap in the middle of an island that does everything but shake the fillings from your teeth to try and get your money.

Day 2 on the island. Time to see these world famous beaches. Adam set out before I did and we made haphazard plans to meet up "where the bus drops you off at the beach". So basically we never ended up meeting. We went to two entirely different beaches actually. Adam explored the shores of Kata while I went to the long, luxury hotel-lined sands of Karon. It sounded like he got the better deal. My beach was by no means lousy, it's just that after the spendour that was Raylay and the Perhentians, the long expanse of yellow sand that was Karon felt a little mundane. It was quite empty though, an unexpected surprise for Phuket, and I enjoyed a swim and a nap completely unbothered by touts and gleaming white flesh (other than my own). Actually, come to think of it, I remember spotting some guy sunbathing with his ass hanging out. Otherwise, a decent time.

To get out to the beach, I had to hop on a bus that cost a modest 30 baht. "Transportation figured out" I thought. Unfortunately, these buses stopped at 5, and when I ran for one and narrowly missed it, I had no idea that it was the last one of the day. As it rolled off, the tourists riding in the back watched me falter with blank expressions on their faces. Much like I don't like them, it seems they don't like me. We all don't like each other really. No one wants to share the paradise pie.

No one told me it was the last bus of course. I didn't figure that out until after I had waited a good 40 minutes. "That was definitely the last bus" I deduced. So it appeared that taking a taxi was the only other option. I let out a sigh of defeat and accosted the grinning men in the taxi stand. They knew they didn't need to hassle anyone for business anymore. The tables had turned. They sat and eagerly awaited me. "700 baht" said one, confidently. That's over 20 times the price of the bus. $21. I tried to haggle him down, but he knew that I was sewered and just smiled at me. It was these precise conditions that compelled me to hitchhike for the first time in my life. This taxi driver with a smug, shit-eating grin on his face, confident he fleeced another dippy tourist. I refused to be that dippy tourist. "Boy that's expensive" I said, "I guess I'll have to hitchhike". And off I went. The last thing he said to me was "600 baht!". Jackass.

So I walked to the edge of town and sheepishly stuck my thumb out. The problem with hitchhiking in Phuket is you keep getting those damn taxi drivers slowing down and expecting a fare from you. And they never say a price or even ask for money until AFTER the ride when they can charge whatever the hell they want. I would gesture them onwards. The first car that picked me up drove me only halfway. The man seemed terrified of me. My second ride dutifully took me back to town, as if he were fishing for some good karma later on down the road. The whole process took about an hour at the coat of free. My turn to wear the shit-eating grin.

That night Adam and I explored Phuket's sordid nightlife. It was loud, flashy and expensive. Some very disreputable people prowled the streets. Ruddy old white men, and I'll give you one guess as to what their companions looked like. It was a circus. Thankfully a handful of songthaews were ready to take us home at a moment's notice. I'll never forget the sight of Adam, completely exhausted, managing to fall asleep as the bus zipped around mountain corners, hurling him left and right.

So ended our Phuket experience. A solid B minus all in all. As a backpacker, I'm blessed with the freedom to hop on a bus and float wherever, without having to worry about bookings, itineraries or the real world. Perhaps if all I knew of Thailand came from the flashy brochures in a travel bureau in a suburban mall, I would be happy escaping to the far-flung island of "Foo-ket". But I'm young and unhindered, and it's best to continue on and see the rest of the world, and leave places like Phuket to those whose workaday lives impel them to appreciate it more.

No photos due to broken camera.

Krabi

We decided to visit Krabi based on the suggestions of other travelers. Before then, it was nothing more than a funny name on a map. Existing along the eastern rim of the Gulf of Phuket, Krabi inhabits what I have dubbed the Phuket-o-sphere. The entire Andaman coast of Thailand is home to some of the best beaches and islands in the whole continent, with the island of Phuket serving as a convenient jump-off point. Every day, hundreds of tourists pour into Phuket's airport, bleached and besandaled. A select few make it out to the surrounding environs. These few, along with a handful of backpackers, make up the general foreigner contingent in Krabi.

Krabi is both a town and a province, but rarely is any specific distinction required. When one speaks of Krabi, you usually envision a coastline of white sand beaches flanked by dramatic limestone cliffs, all within a short hop of the eponymous town. Accommodation was pricier along the beach (funny how that happens), so we opted to station ourselves in town.

The town itself is quite quaint. Cheerful townsfolk hustle and bustle about, and a healthy dose of bars and restaurants cater to the backpacker community. Songthaews ply the streets offering fast and convenient transportation to the surrounding areas. We caught one early in the afternoon to Ao Nang, a nearby beach. Our fellow passengers were North Americans; cocky, confident and more enamored by their own presence than that of those whom they were talking to.

The beach was well-developed. Taking a page from the European book of beach building, a long esplanade ran the length of the shoreline, dividing the sand from the shops and restaurants. Surf shops, Irish pubs and tattoo parlours mingled with Starbucks, McDonald's and Subway. The crowd, a mixture of the young and thin and the old and bulbous. A dynamic young Thai accosted an ungainly white man wearing a banana hammock, vying for some of his disproportionately large wealth. We weren't planning on staying. Instead we caught a boat to the isolated peninsula of Raylay.

The limestone cliffs jut out of the Krabi landscape, at times forming impassable barriers. In this instance, a rather large formation separated the peninsula of Raylay from the rest of the mainland, thus the need for a boat. We sailed along cliffsides until they eventually broke from the coast revealing a stretch of beach sheltered amongst their looming crags. This beach was also quite developed, but much less frenetic, so it made an excellent choice.

Adam set off in search of a place to rock climb, while I plopped myself down on the beach in an attempt to give my ghostly carcass some colour. Time went by. Boats came and went, collecting and distributing tourists. Tiny sand crabs flitted in and out of holes. I took a swim. After about an hour of this, I got a little restless. Living a year in a stimulating environment like Seoul can whittle away one's attention span, so I sought out a new activity to pursue.

Kayaking seemed to call to me, so I jacketed up and set put to see some more of the rugged coastline. After about 5 minutes of paddling against the current, it became clear how physically demanding kayaking could be. My supple girl arms began to throb, but I pressed onwards. I was rewarded with two towering islands rising from the sea; a narrow corridor of shallow water separating them, as if a guillotine had sliced it, specifically for me to pass through. I floated in between for a bit, then it was time to head back.

I walked the neck of the peninsula over to the other coast and bumped into Adam who was preparing for his last climb of the day. The sheer cliff overlooked an emerging tidal flat, so I seized a few shots. The seas were getting rough and the boats were making their last runs, so we headed back. In the songthaew, we met a Japanese vacationer named Yasuhiro who accompanied us to dinner at the night market. He was classic Japanese. Very polite, a little awkward, no eye contact. I called it in early later that evening.

The next day was a very special day. It was the last day of Songkran, Thai new year, and to celebrate, the whole town filled up buckets and water pistols and took to the streets dousing literally everyone they saw. It didn't matter if they were drunken backpackers or Thai businessmen in tweed jackets, they all participated and they all got soaked. I was lucky to squeeze in breakfast before the first deluge. People would set up huge barrels of water by the road and pummel oncoming traffic. Flatbed trucks filled with young Thais brandishing water guns prowled the streets doing drive-bys. The real hardcore kids used ice water, talcum powder and even paint. It was pandemonium. Loud music blared from every caravan and soak station. I joined in on the fun. Adam was already well embedded. A few things got broken in the fray. My sunglasses, and worst of all, my camera. There was so much damn water everywhere.

Growing tired of the corner we stationed ourselves at, I decided to rent a motorbike and roam the streets observing the festivities. It got even wilder as I drove along. Narrow streets became a gauntlet of water, talcum powder and paint. Driving behind a truck full of kids was just asking for a soaking.

After my (not so) dry run of the town, I swung back and picked up Adam so we could administer our own drive-bys. We got decimated. At one point, a girl poured red paint all over my sunglasses. I made a point to stop at the next soak station a few meters ahead so they could wash it off, but it was even worse there. A dude poured ice-cold water directly on my forehead eliciting the most punishing brain freeze I've ever had. Realizing that we were just getting our asses handed to us, I opted to return the bike. By then it was about 5 and the constant bedlam around us was starting to grow tiresome. We retreated to the inner sanctum of a bar until the sun went down and people started clearing the streets. Soon it became safe to don dry clothes again.

That night, over drinks, someone spoke of this local club that was always packed and completely free to get into. My desire to know more eventually led to us hopping into a car full of strangers bound for the fabled "Room 69". The driver was a Thai girl named Wee Wee. Things were starting to look sketchy. Thankfully the place was a pretty on-the-level establishment and yes, it was packed and completely free. Up front, a Thai DJ played a mix of Thai and English popular songs and the crowd ate it up. He pranced about the stage like a rock star. As I made my way through the swell of people, it became immediately apparent that we were the only foreigners there. I guess Lonely Planet hasn't picked up on it yet. A few girls shot me smiles and a few guys shot me scowls. Adam left early while I got roped into a table of dudes who poured me free drinks for the remainder of the night. I suspected that they were using me to pick up girls. Like, come on guys, I can't even use me to pick up girls. Needless to say it didn't work, and their generosity went to waste.

The house lights came on and I staggered out into the streets, realizing that I had no idea where the hell I was. Looking like the saddest sight in the world. I ambled in the direction I suspected the town was until one of the bar staff passing by offered me a life back into town. "Back into town? I thought. Jesus that would have been one hell of an amble home. He dropped me off at the main town intersection and wished me good morrow. It still took a white before I got my bearings and found my way back to the hotel. It was 5am. Of all the places for me to pull the first all-nighter of the trip: Krabi Town.

The next morning my mouth was so damn dry that I would have welcomed the jackass with the ice water if he happened to bound into the hotel room at that moment. It was time to eat and leave. Thankfully we were only going to Phuket, a mere four hour drive away. Krabi surprised me in the end. It was from a mere suggestion that we decided to stop there, and I left soaking wet, sore and hungover with a broken camera. Still had an amazing time. Hey all potential backpackers: go to Krabi.

Limestone cliffs overlooking Raylay Beach.

Adam's final ascent of the day.

Adam at the height of his climb (if you can spot him).

Why riding a motorcycle is a bad idea during Songkran.

These guys are loving it.

This may or may not have been how my camera got broken.

Good work Adam.

Butterworth/Hat Yai - a day in motion

Some altruistic local politician decided to make the ferry off of Penang free. The same politician may have also been responsible for making the bus station, train station and pier all close together; something that surprisingly few cities think to do. It was shaping up to be an easy day on the roads. Read on however.

The ferry arrived on the mainland in a town called Butterworth aka Buttwerf aka Butt Whiff. It was a pretty shabby place, but like I said, all major transit stations were conveniently lumped together so I wasn't about to complain. It was unfortunate however, that we had to wait two hours in Butt Whiff for the next bus out. Not much to do except buy snacks and enjoy an air conditioned ATM.

Our next bus pulled in and out, giving us just enough time to hop on. All but two seats were full. It was a double-decker bus and my seat happened to be on top at the very front, providing me with a windshield and a great panorama of the journey.

These frequent bus rides punctuate the journey and offer temporary moments of solace, depending on the comfort level. An excellent opportunity to sleep, listen to music, read, write. I would alternate between these choices, different combinations to maybe make the trip sail by faster. So much time spent in transit. When I was back in Canada, I remember a five hour ride to Toronto seemed daunting. Here, our long rides have attained the rote bearabity of a commute. I might visit Toronto more when I get home.

It was mid-afternoon when we reached the Thai border. It was a zoo of course. A truck exhaust filled zoo. Monkeys swung around the rafters above us as we waited in line at customs. Literally a zoo at that point. The lady stamped our passports. 14 days in Thailand, not nearly enough time. Looks like we'll be dipping into Burma for a visa run after all.

The second we got into Thailand it was like someone pulled the bug out of Malaysia's ass. More colours, more chaos, more playful advertisements. In a nutshell, more swirl. We cruised through the little border town, onward to Hat Yai, our next transfer point.

When we arrived, it became apparent that we walked into something special. Streets were closed off, food carts were rolled out and revellers were singing, dancing and spraying each other with water. It was the first day of Songkran, Thai New Year, and people were celebrating. We felt compelled to stay, but had to press onwards.

The touts tried a new technique on us: tell the disembarking tourist that the bus to their next destination is leaving RIGHT NOW, forcing them to hurry and not take time to consider the price or other options. Didn't work. After Indonesia, our scam radars became finely callibrated. We hopped in a songthaew to the bus station and as we drove off, a young girl blasted us with water. Yep, definitely more swirl.

Turns out we had another long wait ahead of us at the bus station. I seized the opportunity to change my ringgets into baht. I knew that the exchange rate was 10.06. Always know the exchange rate because they try to fleece you if you don't.

Anyways, the bus station offered 9 which was total crap, so I looked elsewhere. Another place I found offered the same, but the lady seemed to have arbitrarily concocted that number. Sensing a chip in her armor, I grabbed a calculator and went about showing her how much money I was losing with her daft exchange rate. She offered 9.2. I countered 9.5. We settled on 9.4 and a free Coke. More swirl.

The sun had gone down back at the station and we bided our time by observing some of the ridiculous buses that passed by. They were all nothing compared to the one we would eventually ride. It rolled up like the belle of the ball, calling everyone's attention to it's arrival. It was two stories tall, adorned with embellishments and wacky fonts and lit with alternating green and hot pink lights. On the inside of the bus. It looked like Willy Wonka's mobile sex disco. "Jesus, is that our bus?" I thought. Yes it was. More. Swirl.

At 2am our bus creaked into Krabi, our final destination. We were pretty damn sick and tired of traveling at that point. We slogged through the dimly lit streets while the garish monstrosity that was our bus drove off in the distance. We landed a hotel room after finally finding a front desk that was being tended. After that it was lights out. Thailand had just begun and it would prove to be a country that would require plenty of rest beforehand.

Outside of the bus to Krabi.

Inside.

Malaysia roundup

So Malaysia is done. We never got to see anything on Borneo, but we did scour the peninsular part quite thoroughly.

The highs:

- Excellent bus transportation. In Indonesia, the buses drove me the closest I've been to sheer madness. We had to pay a bit more, but considering the massive chunk of our trip that's spent in transit, this was definitely an acceptable concession.
- Perhentian Islands. Everything about them. The weather, the beach, the scuba, the restaurants, all gorgeous. It was unfathomable that such a perfect slice of paradise could be as uncrowded as it was.
- Scuba diving. Like I said, something I never thought I'd do, but so thankful I did.
- The weather in the Cameron Highlands. A welcome change from the crock pot that was KL.
- All the amazing Indian food. Seriously some of the best I've had in my life, and so cheap.

The lows:

- The price of beer. Same price as back in Canada at times. Kind of made it hard to drink when you knew it made up close to 50% of your daily budget.
- Social repression. Not many people seem to know how to cut loose and have fun. Islam kind of has a lot of people in a chokehold and it would have been nice to see more than just Chinese dudes out on the town at night.
- KL Tower. What a tourist trap! 9 ringgets to play Playstation for 5 minutes in the guise of an "F1 Simulator". BS!
- Bees in Taman Negara. Probably the most intimately I've known bees in my life.
- Red Dragon Backpacker's Hostel in Kuala Lumpur. No idea why it was so big and popular. Boiling hot room with no window, expensive and they put carpet in the shower.
- Durians. The vilest fruit borne from the earth.
- How everything was closed. Petronas Towers, half of the canopy walkway, the National Mosque, and a handful of other things I can't remember.

The meh:

- Georgetown. It was alright, but a lot of the attractions were painfully boring. The best thing to do there honestly was to eat.
- Taman Negara canopy walkway. It was what I expected, but if I had come there just for that, I surely would have been disappointed.

I'm already a good distance into Thailand as you read this, so hopefully I can play catchup in the next few days or so. Malaysia, done! Five more countries to go!