Parasol (2/3)

Living in Thailand from 2003 to 2005, I survived the tsunami that ravaged Southeast Asia. Importantly, however, this is not a tale of heroism. I did not save any children from drowning, nor lead a group of survivors down a gnarly trail to salvation. I just slept-in one day.

(Continued from Part 1/3)

We were settled in a little shack on the east of Phuket island, an old fishing village far from anywhere tourists dared to venture. We were right by the ocean, but, due to the rocks and mud—and the general aversion of the locals for watersports—not a part that was popular to swim in. It was inexpensive, raw.

We had never visited this mountain temple, though it was square in our backyard. (I always felt out of place touring temples, feeling it to be disrespectful.) The road to the temple was steep for the two of us on our underpowered motorbike. I was more thin at that point of my life than I may ever be again, yet scooters stacked with four schoolgirls were still passing us up that hill.

Atop the mountain was a beautiful outlook, I would later realize—a lone temple cresting this satellite of the main island, known as Sirey. Months later, after moving to the center—Phuket City—I would return to visit this temple often. But that day it was not so peaceful, the parking lot as crowded as a Mission bar on Saturday night.

I can’t say we suffered during this time. Though we didn’t realize it, we were completely safe. We were just bored, confused, and felt cut off from everything. No one had any answers as to why we were there or what was happening. Not knowing where to focus my fear (exacerbated by the remnants of beer I’m sure), I kept getting little panic attacks, like we were all going to be suddenly wiped out. Was there an asteroid? A terrorist attack? Is this happening all over the world? Is it even really happening here?!

My girlfriend made me eat something. Snacking is a pastime of all Thais, fat and thin alike—eating when bored, or nervous. Multiple vendors had showed up with their wares, either because they too were told to head for higher ground, or, being the savvy business people , just came to where the crowds were.

After a few hours of this, I decided we had to leave. Longing for an explanation, and feeling like this all might be a big misunderstanding, I couldn’t take it anymore. No one had any more information about what was going on, and I (naively) concluded that if the earthquakes were hours ago, the threat must have passed. So we trekked back down that little mountain—a more unnerving version of going up, the brakes on Thai motorbikes not well suited for the weight of a farang (foreigner).

Safely down the hill, we drove along the main road from Sirey, to Phuket City, headed for my girlfriend’s coworker’s house safely nestled in the middle of the island—far from shore. The monkeys, usually out on that road begging for bananas from passersby, were not to be seen, hiding deep in the trees. Everything felt different.

I was afraid it was a calm before the storm. It was really just the land itself giving a long sigh, the worst having passed. While I slumbered, tucked away in a shack just shy of the sea’s reach in the east, the western coast had been laid waste.

(Continue reading Part 3/3)