Although I’m working on less than five hours of sleep—I would set insomnia on fire if I could—I am here, at my keyboard, bringing you another installment of Suddenly Farang. That’s how much I care, people.
Besides, I figure you all want to hear about my long beach-weekend that was undoubtedly sandier and more picturesque, despite the monsoon season, than your typical-length weekend. So now that I’ve jammed my stomach with a minced shrimp omelet, it’s time to describe.
Last weekend was extended thanks to Wan Khao Pansa—or what’s translated as ‘Buddhist Lent’—which gave us off on Friday and Monday. The association with Lent seems like a mildly silly and denuding connection, but such cross-cultural borrowings are for a post where a four-day weekend isn’t involved.
The short teaching-week was much appreciated and fairly easy, since the bulk of my students had only in-class presentations. On Thursday, one level had to present a business plan for a predetermined type of company. Two of the more standout plans worthy of a blog were for a massage parlor and an airline company. The former named their business “Climax Massage Parlor” and began their PowerPoint slideshow with a picture of a woman with an especially red O-face. Their slogan: “Our Fingers. Our Palms. Your Climax.” I’m thankful these students are so good at English; otherwise, my lack of professionalism would have been very unprofessional.
The latter chose to make their airline company a luxury line, catering only to the wealthiest in Thailand. But, because of one student’s heavy-ish accent, I couldn’t quite make out his tag line. I could have sworn he said, “Our airline will get you high like Jesus?” I was rather proud of the oblique Beatles reference and sheer audacity of the statement, even if slightly confused. But, when I pressed the student further, I realized he said “high like a G6.” So much for my knowledge of popular music said through a heavy Asian accent.
Enter Friday, a day jam-packed with getting ready for the beach. I took the university’s free shuttle bus to Bangkok with my beach buddy to crash at another friend’s apartment close to the Ekamai bus station. Settling in, we got some amazing food at Coconuts, a place with an extensive vegetarian menu. And the food was about half the price of what I pay on campus. Bangkok definitely does have its upsides.
After a total lack of sleep (which is becoming a trend, apparently), the four of us
woke up at 6:30 a.m. to be to the station by 7 a.m. It took us about five hours to arrive at the pier, where we picked up a fifth member. Once on a ferry, it was another thirty minutes to reach the island. The whole trip was pretty easy—just a mix of interrupted naps, reading, listening to music, and vamping a playlist on which I’ve been working (cough NERD cough).
We left this early in the morning so we could eke out a day at the beach, but we were beach-blocked on Friday. About halfway through the bus ride, we began to drive into periodic and heavy rains—rains that didn’t stop until sometime on Monday, when we left. The rain didn’t preclude either time on the beach or awkward sunburns, but it did lead to a change of plans on Friday. Instead of a forced beach-day, we walked around our area—we ended up staying along White Sands Beach—and ate and ate and ate. Things could have been worse.
Because it was Buddhist Lent, however, obtaining alcohol over the weekend wasn’t a guarantee. I’m not a huge drinker—and have been described as a teetotaler—but I did want a beer or two on the beach. While most shops and restaurants didn’t mind selling booze, more regulated places—7-11, for example—had signs posting their refusal to sell alcohol because of the holiday. One wine store had its doors shut entirely. But if one could finagle and proffer a charming, demure smile—two of my specialties—one could enjoy an aforementioned beer or two on the beach.
The beach buddy and I rested in the same room all weekend: a 350B hotel room with an industrially powerful fan (I would wake up cold), two large beds, and detached-but-private showers that was across the road from the beach and our favorite place to eat, Cookies. The hotel was completely without frills, but for that it was perfect.
We all went to bed early—probably between 10 and 11 p.m.—with full stomachs and overwhelming exhaustion. We had big plans for Saturday, anyway.
But before the big plans could kick off, I woke up at 4:30 in the morning and was unable to fall back to sleep. DSLR in hand, I decided to walk around town and take night photos; I love dicking around with long exposures and insomnia lends the perfect excuse to do so. There were even potential sunrise shots in my future, at this rate.
The photos, as you can see didn’t turn out so great. Because it had been so rainy, there were few surfaces on which to rest my camera. Sunrise pictures were phased out as well since I was beginning to remember that it was 5:15 a.m. and my ass was actually tired.
All was not for naught, though, since I got to enjoy a 7-11 breakfast on a plastic chair outside of the store while bathing in the luminescence of the storefront sign. There was a weird kind of serenity to it, my probably strange tableau.
Back in bed by 5:45 a.m., I grabbed three more hours of welcomed sleep.
Once again, I had the privilege of traveling with Tor, my friend’s Thai boyfriend. Another benefit of Tor I discovered regards travel: in Koh Chang, while other people were renting and wrecking motorbikes, we got to rent a badass pick-up truck. Aside from allowing a sequel to farang truck, our car proved to be much more reliable than the motorbikes on the switchbacks from hell, regularly slick with fresh rain puddles.
After negotiating the often unbelievably winding and mountainous roads, we ventured into Bang Bao, a quaint—albeit touristly expensive—fishing village with cool piers to walk along and explore. There’s not much to be said about Bang Bao that isn’t conveyed better in pictures, so indulge below.
Piers ventured, we drove to Khlong Phlu Waterfall. Thanks to my university ID, which somehow makes me a resident of Thailand that somewhat compensates for my skin-tone-and-language-based farang status, I paid only 40B as opposed to the 200B mandated from foreigners. Cha-ching.
The 400-meter trek to the waterfall would have sucked if it wasn’t kind of funny. All of us were wearing sandals and the ground on the way to the falls was muddy, mossy, wet, or all three—making the steep drop to the left all that much more comic. I was happy we pressed on, though, because what was at the end of the 400 meters was pretty motherfucking spectacular.
Although I didn’t like sharing the Khlong Phlu Waterfall, the crowds eventually faded into the background. All I really remember was taking the first jump into the water and floating around for not nearly long enough, the sound of water crashing down behind me.
The waterfall was a huge victory, but Saturday had another surprise in store. Who goes shopping for prescription eyeglasses while on an island vacation in a tropical climate? Cool kids, obviously. Beach buddy needed eyeglasses something fierce and a shop on the island was having a 2-for-1 sale. She felt bad for taking up a portion of my night with eyeglasses, but I was perfectly content—and she would have been stupid to pass up the sale. Besides, I was treated to free juice and a sedate feeling of atemporal presence: high and relaxed. The eyeglass shopping was, oddly enough, as good a part of the weekend as any other.
Sunday was another early morning; two of our friends were leaving at noon and we had to walk to an island from our island.
Once on Kai Bae beach, it was probably a quarter- to half-mile walk to a nearby island, accessible by foot only at low tide. One of those in the group had been to Koh Chang a month or two earlier, so she told us about this walkable island on the bus. Needless to say, all of us had been excited about the possibility of marching to an island from the start.
The walk itself took about twenty to thirty minutes and, once we hit the coral, became like walking on stilts—underwater. Much like the waterfall, the walk was a pain in the ass, but, unlike the waterfall, watching the island become increasingly closer was a persistent motivator.
Once on the island—which is for sale, if you’re interested (although non-Thais can’t own land in Thailand)—we kind of traipsed around the shore, taking photos and climbing on driftwood. I wish I could better convey what it was to walk to island from an island, but I think that clause conveys what we did quite nicely:
We walked to an island from an island.
And while a ton of people tried to follow us path, maybe only a handful made it. Poseur wannabe bitches.
Such an achievement meant it was time for street food. Admittedly, though, I’ll be goddamned if I know of an hour when it isn’t time for street food in Thailand. This meal was particularly tasty: a whole fish grilled on a skewer with two sides of sticky rice, or khao niao. I ordered the whole thing in Thai before hopping back into the truck and sharing the feast with my beach buddy. She and I sat in the bed of the truck eating moist, smoky, grilled fish and khao niao as we drove back to our beach—and loving the shit out of life. By noon, I was rocking a super-sweet tank-top sunburn, but whatevs. There was no opportunity to stress.
After some time in a café with coffee, tomato juice, and pineapple fried rice with my beach buddy, we spent the rest of the day hanging out, watching Fashion TV—it was really rainy and/or overcast out and we were effing exhausted—and taking pictures of the sunset over wine, the beach buddy and I met with the third friend for dinner, as the other two had since left. Once again, I ordered street food—two orders of som tom and two of sticky rice, all for 80B—completely in Thai. Ego inflated, we sat down to dinner with our third and were treated to an impromptu fire show. Check out these shots of the sunset and fire dancers.
Monday morning was spent on the beach—laying out, running up and down the shoreline, and romping in the ocean. (Walking into the waves, I said, out loud, “This is so irresponsible,” a fact for which I was thankful.) Plus, although I spent only a few hours on the beach, I was able to soften my awkward tank-tan into an overall redness. Score one for me? Hell, the whole weekend was score-one-for-me.
The bus ride back sucked—100% sucked—but I was able to play back the entire weekend in my mind. Not bad, kids. Not bad.
Next up: a trip to Chiang Mai, an area I’ve hyped up so much in my mind that I expect nothing less than a haven interspersed with elephants, vegetarian food, and colorful tapestries.
See you all then.