Southeast Asia Part V — Thai Islands, Koh Samui and Ko Lanta
Read: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV
Koh Samui
I arrived in Krabi, a pit spot before going to Koh Samui, and checked into a hostel for the night. I walked along the waterfront and began reflecting on the next chapter of my journey. Three weeks remained, and I’d be traveling alongside Sydney once again. I was struck with the realization that I had never traveled with a friend for that long before.
I was excited to be hanging out with each other again, but also worried about potential fights. Not because we had experienced any extreme drama before, but because arguments are an inevitability when existing in close proximity with other humans. When my dad was a few years younger than me, he went on a long backpacking trip with his best friend at the time, and they eventually ended up separating during the trip because they were fighting and needed a break from one another. Whatever would happen, I hoped for the best.
Sydney texted me that she had arrived at the hostel, and I made my way over to meet her.
The next day, we booked a ride to the airport and rode the short flight to Koh Samui. Upon arrival, we took a cab to the small hotel that Sydney had booked for us months prior. What we hadn’t realized was that this hotel was pretty far away from the bustling parts of the island.
There is a main road that circles the island, and there is no sidewalk. Because we hadn’t rented a motorbike or car, our hotel required an uphill walk to get to. Although we were pretty far away from the action, the hotel was nice and clean, and that was more than enough to be grateful for. The distance was simply a silly detail that we could laugh about and reminisce on. “Can you believe we didn’t notice beforehand?” I could retell this at a party, though I probably never will.
Getting around the island without a bike turned out to be a hindrance. We had to walk down the long hill where our hotel was located, and then wait by the side of the road until we spotted a cab to flag down. The costs stacked up, and we quickly realized that we had to tell drivers to not drop us off at our actual hotel because they would charge us extra for riding up the hill. The original vision of spending a lot of time on the beach had to be revised because the weather wasn’t on our side either. As it turned out, it would be raining on and off almost the entire time.
The Muay Thai Class
One of the rainy day activities was going to a Muay Thai (Thai boxing) class. Sydney, a fitness teacher and lover of competitive sports, had already taken classes in recent weeks, gotten super into it, and wanted to do it more. I was intimidated by the prospect, but wanted to challenge myself to try something new. I think I started crying about 10 minutes into the class.
I’ll back up a bit. We arrived at an open air gym that smelled of stale sweat. We were greeted by the owner and observed a few chiseled abdomens, which were attached to bodies, hitting each other in the rink. They were regulars I figured. A few other travelers, including a guy from the Netherlands, and a girl from France, eventually trickled in to try the open-level class too.
The instructor owned the gym and had done Muay Thai for a long time. As we were going through the sequences of movements, my brain was getting mixed up. I moved the wrong foot or arm and flubbed the combinations. The instructor kept stopping me to fix my technique, and dramatically scoffed, cartoonishly flung his arms, and rolled his eyes when I wasn’t getting it.
And in that moment, my inner child bubbled to the surface. She felt stupid and embarrassed for not getting the movements as quickly as the other people there and for slowing down the class. She also didn’t appreciate the instructor making it so obvious that she wasn’t getting it.
I tried hard to hold it all in but my inner girl needed to release and the tears came out. This part is even more humiliating for my child’s soul, but it couldn’t be helped. I’ve never been too skilled at holding things in, and it always comes out eventually. Sydney and the French girl were quick to come to my aid and comfort me.
“You’re doing this for the first time ever. It’s okay to not get it immediately,” Syd said. I thought about how she was probably well practiced at encouraging people in this way because of the fitness classes she taught. The French girl, who I had met just moments ago, offered her support too, which moved me. She put her hand on my shoulder and said gently, “Don’t worry. Nobody is looking at you or judging you.”
I was feeling embarrassed to receive all this attention and comfort, but also grateful. The instructor softened. I think he was feeling embarrassed too and told me that there was no need to cry. I hadn’t wanted any of that to happen, but it did help me break the ice within myself and the remainder of the class felt much better. I had already caused a scene that made me want to slingshot myself into the burning sun, so the only place left to go was up.
I kicked and punched and blocked to the best of my ability. Towards the end of the class, I was sparring with one of the other instructors at the gym and felt the sweat slipping down my body. I was starting to get why this was fun. I felt myself being watched by some of the guys training there, and wondered if I was being made fun of, but tried to put it out of my mind.
After my sparring, one of the guys who had been watching, clearly a regular based on his physique, came over to me and said, in what I think was a Korean accent, “you fight so cute!” It was an unexpected comment to receive, but I rolled with it because it was way better than my original assumption that I was being made fun of. My anxious fighting style was apparently amusing and even “cute.” So I laughed and said “thank you,” because what else do you say to that?
Birthday
My birthday happened while on Koh Samui, and we had a jam-packed day planned. In the morning we booked an ATV tour, which I ended up hating. I had never done this kind of activity before and we did it with a group. We trekked through beautiful tropical forestry, but everyone (including myself) kept getting stuck in rocks and mud. The engine also gets extremely hot, which I didn’t know beforehand, and I accidentally burned my legs a couple of times. I was glad to have a new experience, but was relieved when it was over.
We had another activity planned that Sydney’s friend, who had gone to Koh Samui before, had recommended, which was paddle boarding at sunset. Before that though, we had some time to kill and hung out at a nearby beach. Luckily it wasn’t raining, and I was able to enjoy the striking clear and warm waters of the island.
The paddle boarding company was a one-man operation run by a middle aged British man who had moved to Koh Samui years ago with his wife. They hadn’t planned on staying that long, but life happened that way. He worked in tech and did his paddle boarding passion on the side.
I’d only ever gone paddle boarding one other time in my life, so I needed a refresher on what to do, but once we got started it was lovely. The water was very still, apart from the occasional ripples from boats that passed by, and gazing at the sunset along the ocean was stunning.
That night, we ate dinner at an Indian restaurant, since it’s one of my favorite cuisines, and we ordered a slew of dishes to celebrate my new year. I ended the day feeling full and sleepy from the sun.
I celebrated the beginning of the last year of my twenties. It felt very symbolic. I was in a cool place and having the kind of experience I had always dreamed of. I didn’t know what the next step of my life would entail but it was pretty damn cool to have that next phase start during a backpacking trip on a Thai Island.
Ko Lanta
The next island stop was Ko Lanta. It was a long travel day. We boarded a flight back to Krabi, then got into a van which drove onto a ferry that could hold many other cars, and then were dropped off on the island. Unlike Koh Samui, Ko Lanta was larger, but more untouched and less commercially developed. I loved it immediately.
We checked in at a hostel with a strange and unique energy to it named “Slacklines Hostel”, which did in fact have several slacklines that one could practice balancing on. It is located about a kilometer from the nearest main road, and is owned by an Australian man named John who, like the Brit who had moved to Koh Samui, had also ended up living on a Thai island without planning to. And somehow along the way he started a hostel.
This place immediately felt like a fever dream. In part because the second we arrived, a guy who was staying there greeted Syd and I and asked if we wanted to join in on the joint he just rolled. There were a few other hostel guests in the circle too. It made me feel like I was in college again. I said yes.
This hostel had a relaxed energy so extreme that it was difficult to comprehend. It wasn’t the most well-kept. I could feel metal springs as I sunk into the thinnest mattress I’d ever laid on, and I could never manage to take a shower that wasn’t cold, but nobody seemed to care much. Being at Slacklines was about the vibe.
Some, including the guy who first greeted us with a joint, who had been staying there for weeks, had started to help John make changes and improvements. The current project? Digging a deep hole in the ground that would eventually become a small pool. He was passionate about digging this hole, and he and a few other guys worked on it every day while I was there. I guess it gave him joy to do physical labor and see the obvious impact of his work. I later learned more about his story. He had worked at Amazon for years, in a management level role, gotten completely burnt out, quit, and now he was in Thailand.
This hostel seemed to attract that kind of story. I also had met a girl a few years older than me who had worked in D.C. politics for years but who then abandoned it all in order to travel the world for as long as she could manage. She didn’t know yet if she was going to return to Capitol Hill once her travels were over, but she didn’t seem too pressed about it.
It was like nobody really knew what they were doing there, but it was a holding place to relax until you decided to move on to something else. I related to this feeling in many ways, but I definitely did not have any desire to stay there for weeks or to dig holes.
The next day, wanting to remedy the mistakes of Koh Samui, I walked the kilometer to the main road and rented a moped. I loved that bike. It felt so freeing to ride it along the sparse island roads, plus it would have been really difficult to get anywhere without one. However, even on empty streets, I had to stay alert and keep reminding myself that Thailand drives on the left side of the road. I drove back to the hostel, and then realized upon parking that there was no license plate. Since John had lived on the island for a few years, and was the only person in my proximity, I asked him for advice.
“Should I go back and ask for a different bike?”
“It probably isn’t registered yet. You’ll be fine. Just don’t crash it.”
And that was that.
The Beaches
I asked fellow hostel goers where the best beaches were, and got a recommendation to route to a restaurant called, “Diamond Cliff Beach Restaurant,” and then take the stairs down to the shore. Sydney and I hopped on the bike and scootered down the island until we arrived.
The beach was stunning. The water was calm, warm, and glittered like jewels under the beating sun. Like much of the island, it was also empty. There were a handful of other people, but that was it. It probably goes without saying that there weren’t any lifeguards either. For a beach so breathtaking, it felt like we were in on a secret.
After being under the strong sun for long enough, Syd and I walked up the steep stairs to the restaurant to get shade and order cold drinks. Looking at the ocean from that high point felt so magical. Maybe it’s dramatic, but seeing that twinkling, expansive ocean felt like one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. My wonderment, however, was contrasted with a veil of sadness.I knew that this moment would end, and that I might never be back there. And, even if I did go back, it would be different. It would never be what it was in that moment — that fresh moment of awe.
This was a problem I had experienced throughout the entire trip. Whenever I felt my strongest emotions, I also felt the pain of knowing that the moment would end. Appreciating the present moment, regardless of inevitable endings, is something I desperately want to self-correct in this lifetime. In these moments where I felt this juxtaposition, I reminded myself of a Dr. Suess quote I’ve carried around with me for years — “Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.” I usually end up doing both though.
During the following beach day, we rode further down the island to get near the tip, and came across another idyllic, empty, beach. Sydney has the unique ability to fall asleep anywhere, and this beach was no different. While she snoozed, I enjoyed the waters, walked along the shoreline collecting rocks and seashells, observed miniature crabs doing their cute crab walks across the sand, and climbed a rock face. Into the evening, we got the delight of seeing cows being herded on the beach.
We watched the sun set over the horizon, and then rode back on the empty and dark road. Sydney played music on her phone, and I heard the sounds of Willow Smith in my ears as we sped through the night with only the light of the moped to guide the way. I felt wild, I felt young, and I felt free. I would never have this moment again, but I was happy because I reminded myself, “I have it now.”
The Scuba Dive
Timon, one of my new friend’s I had met in Chiang Mai, had already been to Ko Lanta before he came to Chiang Mai, and strongly recommended that I scuba dive when I went to the island. I was excited about this idea, and mostly because I was already scuba certified. Or so I thought.
My first semester of college, I added a scuba class into my course load because I had a few extra credits, and I thought, why not? I went through the class, and eventually got certified at a murky lake in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, and then never scuba dove again. I had been wanting to do it again, but I suppose the opportunity had taken a decade to present itself.
I tried to find my certification in an online database, because scuba certifications last for life, and allegedly the records are out there, but I couldn’t find mine. I even went through the trouble of finding my old school email and changing the password so that I could try to remember what my professor’s name had been to ask if he might know how to find my cert, and then emailed him. He was pretty old when I took his class ten years ago though, so I wasn’t even confident that he was alive. But even if he was, he probably wasn’t still teaching…
Ultimately, I found a scuba shop where I could sign up for what is basically a beginners scuba experience (good for ages 10 and up!), and I didn’t need a certification for it. I didn’t know when I’d be around such clear waters next, and I wanted the chance to see beautiful coral reefs and tropical fish up close.
I was paired with an instructor named Ricardo. I was already happy about this because he shares the name of one of my best friends, so my association was already positive. And this Ricardo was so cool too. He was from Italy, but had lived in Panama for years. I learned that he, along with most (if not all) of the other scuba instructors, all worked on Ko Lanta seasonally and taught scuba in other places during the remainder of the year. I also met an instructor who lived in Barcelona, and who told me that it was her “second season” instructing in Ko Lanta. Pretty cool gig to have if you ask me.
At the scuba shop, I met some of the other people who were going to be diving that day, and met a girl who lived in Brooklyn like me. I’d met very few Americans throughout my travels, so it was extra funny to meet someone who lived in the same borough.
I hopped onto a large boat with all of the other people set to dive that day and we rode for a while before reaching our first stop. I put on my gear and jumped into the water. Ricardo coached me through all of the important stuff and tested me to make sure I was comfortable with everything, and then I went down.
Looking at the coral reefs of Ko Lanta was way cooler than the lake in Bethlehem. As a person raised on Finding Nemo, I rejoiced when I recognized fish species from the movie. The experience of swimming next to huge schools of fish was amazing too. They all swam together and I felt the current shift as they whizzed past me. Ricardo had a small flashlight, and sometimes if he spotted something extra cool, he would flash his light onto it for me to notice.
Scuba diving is an uncanny experience. It’s a world where humans cannot live in, but where we can artificially exist for short periods of time. As I was there swimming and observing the multi-colored corals, starfish, crabs, and fish I’d never seen before, I laughed to myself and thought, I’m not supposed to be here. And it is incredible that I was.
After the first dive, we all got back onto the boat and rode to the next stop. We also had to wait on the boat for a period of time before diving again to prevent decompression sickness. While diving at this next stop, I saw the Nemos themselves in their home. Ricardo directed his tiny flashlight at an anemone attached to a reef that was gently swaying, and I saw two clown fish shimmy into the folds.
When I was back on the boat, I was sitting next to a few people, and we were all sharing what we had seen during our dives. There was also an instructor who had a book of fish from the area so that we could identify what we had seen. I told everyone about the clownfish in the anemone. Nobody else had seen them on their dives, and told me I was lucky to have spotted them. It felt special that I had gotten to see something that no one else had.
After the second dive, we hopped back on the boat and rode back to the mainland. It was a really special experience, and definitely reignited my desire to dive. Now I’ll just have to figure out where my certification card is hiding…
The Massage
It was my last evening in Thailand, and I wanted to get a Thai massage before leaving. I had already returned the moped earlier that day, so I had to walk down the long road from my hostel to get to the massage center. A girl on a bike saw me walking, stopped, and said, “need a ride?” This is the kind of thing I would never do in regular life, but it felt normal on an island, so I hopped on.
In the short ride down the road, I learned that she was a remote worker from Germany and that she had been living on the island for the last couple of months. I was very inspired by this and told her as much. “Well it’s not all perfect,” she said, “but it’s also pretty nice.” I wish I could have asked her more questions, but the ride was too short for that.
We reached the end of the road, I thanked her, and hopped off the bike. It was already dark out, so the massage shop was pretty empty. I flipped through the book of offerings and made a selection. I couldn’t really tell what the difference was between all of the massage options, so I just picked one with a title I liked.
I had to strip to my underwear and laid on a thin mat on the ground. This massage completely wrecked me. It was very painful, but I gritted my teeth through it because I wanted to get all the tension out. My masseuse was very amused by my unshaved legs and laughed joyously saying, “haha, like man!”
Much like my experience with the Muay Thai fighter telling me my fighting style was “cute,” I was okay with this masseuse laughing at me. My legs had been a subject of some anxiety before traveling. I wondered if I would experience any negativity because of them. But at this moment, with a woman laughing, I was at ease. I mean, I don’t love being laughed at, but it was certainly better than a reality where she may have expressed disgust instead.
After the massage, my silly masseuse told me that I really needed to stretch my body more (true) and told me to come back more. I was leaving the next day, but maybe I would have if the opportunity had been available. After the initial high from the painful massage, my body was incredibly sore for days afterwards. It felt like the kind of pain when you haven’t worked out in a long time and then go too hard at the gym. I never knew that massages could do that too.
Overall, I had a lovely time soaking in Thai Island life. As to my initial fears, they started to be quelled. Syd and I had our tiffs here and there, but my fear of the tiffs were always much larger than what actually ended up occurring. Whatever happened, we were always friends at the end of the day. It was impactful to notice the tendencies in myself that go on immediate high alert whenever any sign of tension arises and attempt to rewrite these gut reactions.
The Panic
Walking back from the massage, aching and body cracked to hell, I was floating. As I walked down the dark streets and looked up at the stars, I marveled at what a marvelous life I had. Then I got the text from Sydney, “We don’t have our visas printed and I’m stressed.” Crap.
This was a detail I had forgotten about. We were going back to Vietnam the next day and needed printouts of our visas. Luckily we had both already been approved for re-entry, but we also needed to present hard copies at the airport.
There wasn’t a printer at the hostel we were staying at, and we were leaving for our flight in the morning. Time was of the essence. I scanned my brain, which luckily works more efficiently when there is panic involved, and I thought about a travel office I had passed a couple days earlier that had advertised, “visa extension,” services. They would definitely have printers!
So I pulled up google maps and searched for all the travel agencies nearby. I texted a few of them on WhatsApp, and eventually got a response. They could print it. Success!
The next day we got on the ferry and traveled back to Krabi airport, and then got on the first leg of the flight bound for Bangkok. At the Bangkok airport, Sydney and I separated. She went straight to the gate for the flight bound to Da Nang, Vietnam, but I had to go through security again since I had booked my flight last minute. It wasn’t a problem though. There was still time.
I presented my passport and visa to an agent, and she pointed to my piece of paper and said, “this date has already passed.” My brain began to melt into my mouth as I tried to make sense of what she just said. It couldn’t be. I had just gotten the visa approval in my email just days before. But as I looked at the paper, she was right.
“So I can’t get on the flight?” I asked dumbly, and she, of course, said no.
For a split second I started to go through the stages of grief in my mind. “Maybe it won’t be so bad if I have to stay in Thailand. I can have another adventure!” But I didn’t actually want that to happen. I then snapped out of it enough to tell the agent that I knew I was approved for the correct dates and could prove it.
I logged into the visa website and showed the proof that I was approved for the correct dates but, like the piece of paper in her hand, the document attachment was wrong. Because she saw that the visa website showed my approval, however, she searched for me in her system. Eventually, she found it and told me she would print it. I probably said “thank you,” about a dozen times in a row.
She disappeared for some time, probably only a handful of minutes in reality, but it felt like forever. I had to board soon and time was ticking. Eventually she came back smiling with the new visa in hand. My hero! I might have even said that to her out loud. I ran to security, sprinted to my gate, and then got onto the flight.
Well, that’s all for now folks. Next up I’ll be releasing Part VI — the final installment of this series. Thank you to everyone who has been reading, and to those who take the time to text and email me your thoughts and reflections. It is always appreciated. Love you all ❤
Read: Part VI
