la gorn nah

Yesterday, I left Koh Pha Ngan and Greg and headed to Bangkok by way of Koh Samui. After two boat rides, I found myself balancing all of my luggage on the back of a motorbike taxi and whipping around narrow island roads from the beach to the airport.

A brief stop for some Geng Keow Wan Pla (green curry with fish) and a last cooling of toes in the ocean.

Now, in Bangkok, the city stretches out into the night, buildings interlaced with roads framed with expanding and contracting light, a kaleidoscope of relentless motion.

Tonight is our last real night here. I worked at a conference today that ends tomorrow at noon. Then, I will head to Lumphini Park and onto some shopping before taking off.

See you soon, Seattle.

Sanctuary

Yesterday, we took a taxi, plane, bus, and two boats to a secluded beach on the Eastern coast of Koh Pha Ngan. Sanctuary is a village of bamboo and wooden bungalows tucked into the side of a cliff and climbing up toward the ridge above. Our room has a sliver of a view from the balcony, and the bathroom is built alongside a boulder. The water is warm, the food is good. Last night for dinner: fresh fish, lemon slivers, shallots, and Thai chilis all lightly fried together. Paradise. Pictures to follow.

Mai Bpen Rai

I sent Greg off into the jungle alone today, and I'm staying in town to rest and to let my feet recover from too much walking in flip flops. Tomorrow, we will fly to Koh Samui and then will take a boat out onto the azure waters of the Gulf of Thailand, docking at Koh Phen Ngan. I will stay for four days. Greg may stay longer. We're aiming to rest our heads at Sanctuary, where my friends Ethan and Shannon recently spent some time.

I've been away for not even a week at this point, and already I can feel the stress melting away. Feeling as though a New England August day might offer some relief from the oppressive midday heat, I take refuge in the gardens of wats, in the shade of palm trees, and in the magic of Just Kids, a memoir by Patti Smith which focuses on her lifetime affair and friendship with the photographer Robert Mapplethorp. I am enamored.

lok tik means traffic jam

It is Monday, March 12. Yesterday, after a weekend of markets, riverboat rides, a massage at Wat Po (the birthplace of Thai massage), and a jaunt through Chinatown, we flew to Chiang Mai. Arriving just in time for the Sunday Walking Market, we settled in at a guesthouse tucked away in a relatively quiet corner of the old city. It is comfortable, clean, and convenient, but my favorite part is Bum who works at the front desk. She is kind and witty and offers us honest advice. Right now, I am sitting in the main hall of the house (see below) with its wooden floors and glassless windows listening to geckos cackle and looking forward to sleep.

We have walked our asses off these past few days, not wanting to miss an ounce of the quiet, breezy charm of Chiang Mai. Last night, over a few beers, we met several expats, one of whom has been living here for nine years. He's Dutch, and his Thai is very good. Expats are slightly better integrated into the fabric of the community here, or so it seems at first glance. Bangkok is just littered with scraggly, white-haired, leather-tanned westerners losing themselves in hedonism.

Monday began with a bowl of noodle soup with ground pork balls and spare ribs and iced thai coffee at a place around the corner (50 Baht!). I was determined to eat somewhere that actually looked like a Thai person would want to eat there. It's proving a little difficult to avoid tourist restaurants, but we're mostly doing alright with getting great food wherever we go.

Today, on advice from Greg's coworker, we ventured into the jungle for some ziplining and gibbon-spotting. We finished off with a waterfall hike and dinner in the main village where Flight of the Gibbon has its home. Now, I love the thrill of coasting along underneath the jungle canopy, but what really made this was the sly antics of our guides, Woody and Scott. These two had apparently been at it since 6am, and they still managed to scare the living shit out of us once or twice, just for laughs. Between zipping along an 800 meter line running smack into a giant net and careening toward the ground with a caribiner tacked to my back, arms and legs flailing, I swear I felt like Indiana Jones in the Temple of Doom. Jealous?

Here is a picture of Greg taking off:

Tomorrow, we are going trekking (elephants! hiking! rafting!) and will hopefully make it to Koh Pha Ngan on Wednesday for some yoga-laxing and beach time. In the meantime, I am trying to see how many different kinds of fruit juice I can sample in two weeks. Sanook!

Initiation

Days 1 and 2 have mostly consisted of getting our bearings, meandering around the Banglamphu district, and taking in the glorious humidity and aromas of the city. While Khaosan is nearby, we're staying in Rambutri Village, where it is quieter and there are trees.

Yesterday, while taking refuge from the sweltering heat, we walked through a park next to the Chao Praya river. Boats plodded along the water, one with what looked like it ought to be a truck motor hanging off the end. The water is muddy, but colors on either side and above saturate the view with white-beamed bridges, a crystaline sky, and temple grounds boasting red, blue, and gold spires.

It is hot, and the city smells of curry, incense, and urine. With little expectation of personal space, Bangkok pushes you toward calm resignation. Thai herbal whiskey, coconut scallion pancakes, and massaman curry are your reward.

Pictures will follow! This afternoon, we are venturing toward Wat Po and the Sukhumvit.

To begin again

I'm about as unprepared as I've ever been for a trip, yet, feeling calm, I'll rest easy tonight.

Tomorrow, Greg and I will make our way to the airport:

Seattle --> Dubai --> Bangkok

Bangkok --> Chiang Mai

Chiang Mai --> ??

?? --> Koh Samui

Koh Samui --> Bangkok

Bangkok --> Dubai --> Seattle