Rainy Days and The Sterilization of Be Heard

Rain rain go away come again some other day, like when I'm back in America!

Rain when in a tropical paradise is a bummer, but I suppose if we love those lush green picturesque postcards we have to deal with a little rain.

With rainy season having only ended a number of days ago, and the Bananas Bungalow opening it's doors just this month a little rain is bound to fall and, when it does it is absolutely going to effect one's trip.

It seemed that the mornings were safest and with drizzle on the horizon, literally, I decided after a breakfast of pancake, banana and honey (quickly becoming my new fave) that I would rent one of the relics in the driveway known as a bicycle and take a spin around town to take some photos and clear my mind. This loner excursion quickly became a couples activity as my dorm-mate by way of Germany, who reminds me of someone from my past, and no that is not a compliment, invited herself along.

When someone says - you're going for a bike ride? I am going to come along. Is that ok? - what are your options, really? So off we went on wobbly wheels and rusted frames. Speaking of frames, home girl managed to make we way into 90% of mine, photographically speaking, not through any fault of her own, but with not standing behind me and not understanding the concept of a wide angle lens, you may see a very pale woman with short shorts and surgically enhanced pectorals in some of my shots. There was just no way around it.

I sort of just wanted to wander the winding roads.

The grass is so green, the cows so brown, the dirt so red that it appears as if a box of crayolas have spilled out onto the hills, grown damp and smeared a kaleidoscope of colors along the countryside.

Clearly I was after a poetic experience but Fräulein short shorts was a bit more regimented and was determined to get us to the lounging Buddha about 15 kilometers from our humble abode. However, on a bike that is unsafe for both your joints and your reproductive system, and the narrow seat is rearranging my remaining eggs, 15k seems like forever.

We rode for about 2 hours before giving up or merely choosing to head back in the direction from which we came. I made a quick stop at a local restaurant for a pineapple/watermelon shake and some empassioned business calls back home and, much like the day before, the bulk of my day's activities were done before 2 and I was left to shower and hide from the rain utilizing both my laptop and the few books I brought along to keep me occupied.

After several hours of paying bills online and alternating between books Klaus, the patriarch to the German family staying here (there are a lot of Germans here) suggested a field trip to the local Tesco, almost an hour away. He needed supplies for his girls and wanted to save on cab fare so he somehow managed to get 8 other people on board who didn't really need to do anything in town bu,t who had cabin fever and were eager for an adventure of any sort.

We loaded into an open sided bus for an hour long cab ride and, just to prove how familial this hostel had become in the rain, or simply how much I've given up, I didn't even bother putting on a bra to go shopping.

Shopping proved fruitless as all of the books were in Thai and all of the food stuffs were indistinguishable, but the Target adjacent superstore layout was fascinating.

Perusing the latest fashions while smelling the district smell of fish, and lots of it just inches away which, next to it had colorful octopus cookies kitty corner from dozens of dead lifeless fish bodies was an experience to say the least.

A small package of cookies at one of the kiosks was all I could muster the energy to buy and most of us left empty handed as we headed home for dinner, a spicy shrimp curry tonight that left the crowd pleased with mouths on fire.

Being lazy is almost as exhausting as being left alone with your thoughts so I put scrubs on early and after some text chatting with my big sis, I was out like a light.

My alarm was set for 5 am the following morning and by 5:15 I was on the back of a bike with Klaus at the helm and we were determined to climb the Tiger Cave Temples' infamous 1300 steps to the top. We wanted to beat the heat and he wanted to get back before his family woke so they could all start their day together leaving us with no choice but to get on the road before the sun rose.

We hadill  fitting helmets and a shoddy map to help decipher the appropriate road to the temple. Perhaps it was these two factors that led us in the opposite direction and attempting to climb any stairs we could find. We did end up at the lounging Buddha near the state park I had attempted to locate the day prior. We hadn't thought that one out clearly and after a couple quick shots of the gilted god we hopped back on the scooter and headed through Krabi to the Tiger Cave Temple.

Needing to inquire as to the appropriate direction on more than one occasion we finally made it and it was still early and cool.

1300 steps didn't sound so tough to me seeing as I became a triathlete in the not so distant past, but trust me, when stairs were built in BC they are as high as your knee and you will quickly discover what an American fat ass you are.

Klaus was kind and patient as he hopped along like this was some school yard game. We made it to the top in under 30 minutes and man was it worth it.

A 360 degree view of the vibrantly green surroundings, a random dog guarding the top and a lot of monkeys I was pretty sure wanted to be my friend were to be found.

I had never really encountered monkeys in the wild and I quickly became an excitable school girl at her first One Direction concert. If the monkeys and dog hadn't had beef and the master monkey in charge didn't look like he could tear my flesh from bone I for sure would have bonded with the primates.

It soon became clear that the dog was here to protect us and that my love for animals transcends language, as the black and white pup followed us all 1300 steps down and cut any potential monkey encounter off at the pass, like the protective older brother I always wanted but never had, it was frustrating but sweet.

After our extended experience and second day of vehicular sterilization in a row, my crotch needed a break and we had to get back to the hostel for Klaus to meet his family and me to wash the mountain funk from my increasingly freckled face.

Seeing as I had the motorbike rented for the whole day I thought, why not face my fear and ignore my lady part pain and actually drive one of these bad boys - and that is exactly what I did. After a quick change and a quick tutorial on gas and break, I was off. First to get gas which required the help of a local and the off to Ao Nang.

As I've stated before when I am traveling is likely the only time I am at ease and the fact that somewhere along the way I seem to have missed the turn off to Ao Nang didn't bother me a bit. I took the added time on the road to get comfortable with speed and take in the sights.

There were small villages who's children came rushing out to say good morning, in English, as they don't see many folks like me in these parts and there were many, many stray dogs, some of whom seem to have been Aronofsky fans as they were fully ass to ass.

I even got picked up on while in movement on the highway by a man who turned  his bike around to talk to me yet didn't talk to me at all, as he didn't speak or understand a single syllable of English. Thank you strange man for making me feel like I still internationally got it!
It was a lovely experience and though I didn't have a destination per se, after lots of back and forth I ended up in Krabi Town which looks very different during the day.

I stopped in for some lunch, ordering whatever the waiter recommended and, in turn, having my first green curry.  It had chicken and a vegetable I couldn't pick out in a lineup - nonetheless it was delicious.

A long ride back with the 'Begin Again' soundtrack in my ear was when I really hit my stride on the bike and the sun came out in appreciation.

With my first chance for vitamin D in days, once I returned, I dropped trow and headed to the pier for some reading and relaxation before the storm inevitably set in again.

Family dinner was bland but the little girls here have really warmed up to me and when playing with children I don't actually think the language barrier poses much of a problem. Or I am learning German through osmosis.

Every so often, waiting out the rain reaps rewards and when I woke this morning the skies were clear and the sun was calling, beckoning me to the sandy shores and tempting me with promises of bronzed skin and pre-cancerous melanoma.

The Bananas has directions to two local beaches in it's lobby and feeling as though I should take advantage of the sun as long as I had it I was off with laminated instructions in hand to find either the Coconut Beach and the Secret Beach. When faced with those two options I think the choice is pretty clear.

Secret Beach was more descriptive than clever because as I walked for about an hour in the increasing morning heat, schlepping my two bags I couldn't find the bastard. I walked down each and every 'dirt path' I could find and mostly they just led to nowhere.

Defeated and more than a tad annoyed I headed back 'home' to consult the trusty Lonely Planet that I have barely cracked on this voyage but that I always like to tote around for good measure.

Just as I began to leaf through the newsprint pages Andrew, a volunteer here at the hostel by way of the UK, offered to drive me there on his motorbike - my prince in shining tank top.

As I was led down the road, up a hill and through the forest to grandmother's house it became quite clear that there is no way I could have navigated this path on my own and, after some sneaky barbed wired scaling and descending from the side of a mountain - there were were. At high tide.

11 am is high tide and that leaves about 6 inches of beach to enjoy. Andrew was kind enough to go exploring for rocks and shells as I took some photos of the orange and lavender speckled rocks and bathed myself in the Adaman Sea. After an hour or so he offered to drop me at Coconut, which he insisted I should be able to locate myself from the road side, on his way back to work.

Usually possessing a keen sense of direction, this place is bonkers with people literally gesturing in a general direction as an aid in times of navigatory trouble.

I did find a beach, nestled behind an outdoor bar and as I laid in the sun and enjoyed the breeze for several hours I had nothing but sad music and happy crabs to keep me company. It was quiet and serene and beautiful and, just like all good things. It came to an end. An end by way of torrential rainstorm that set in almost the moment I stepped off the beach to walk the several miles back to my hostel.

I took cover next to a couple of beautiful peacocks, all of us ready to bolt at the first sign of clear sky and, after 30 minutes or so I decided to just go for it - put my clothes in a bag, wrapped myself in the Thai fabric I had brought as a beach towel and, doing my best Gaugin impression, looking more like a native Thaitian woman wandering down the roads in thongs and a colorful wrap, long brown locks hanging low in the rain.

With the kindness of a local bus driver I was deposited back at Bananas in time to shower, put on my MJ sweatshirt and get ready for some grub. With only one day left in Krabi, and having fallen a bit in love with the place, I feel confident saying that this is on my 'may return someday' list.

50 Shades of Thai

So I'm sitting on a wooden pier off the gulf of Thailand. It's warm, but the late afternoon breeze makes it bearable and just then, the call to prayer come wafting through the air like the sweet smell of Jasmine.

I'm reading The Alchemist, per the suggestion of a friend, and they are speaking of omens, signs from God.

I am not a religious woman but in great pain I find people seek solace in many ways, and I choose to believe the chanting, echoing off of the mossy rocks of southern Thailand is speaking to me, and telling me that as badly as I want my father to be here with me, he is.

And just like that, the prayer is over, and he is gone.
And it is quiet.
And I am alone.

But I digress...

Having to hoof it to the train station because my chucks carry me faster than the wheels of the bus not going so round and round, the I made it in the knick of time to catch my night train to Surat Thani, which would take a total of 12 hours, and would force me to lay in a cocoon known as an upper sleeper for the better part of that time. Sadly, this midnight express experience made me feel nothing like Jack Lemon or Tony Curtis larking about in drag.

Off the train and onto a bus to Krabi, where I came to the following conclusion: Anyone drinking beer at 6 am is suffering from one of two afflictions: alcoholism or douchebagism. The young Brits at the front of my bus, presumably heading to the Full Moon Party in Kho Pagnan were likely suffering from the latter. Though I know people come from all around the world just to attend this all night beach rager, I will be avoiding it at all costs.

Once in Krabi Town is apparent that there are some things back at home to which I need to attend immediately and spend many hours and many Skype dollars attempting to remedy.

At one point 'it just is what it is' and I am forced to pull myself away from WiFi and hop on the back of a motorbike with a strange man who will be taking me to The Bananas, the accommodation I have booked through to next week based on lush photos of the location and not its proximity to city center.

An hour later my left shoulder is a rosy brown and my ass numb from the vibration of the vehicle's seat. Being met with this beautiful little hostel situated on the coast, consisting of a series of bamboo huts and run by a jovial German man, I quickly forget about my nearly 17 hours of travel to get here and hastily put on a swimsuit and head to the pier and enjoy the beautiful day in the jungle.

A lazy afternoon in a lounge chair with a book and my camera is not only welcomed - it just might be necessary. It is difficult for me to relax and whenever I attempt to do nothing I am struck by overwhelming amounts of guilt - maybe it's the New Yorker in me, maybe it's the or maybe it's the MTV Culture in which I was raised - either way, this was an exercise in patience, with myself, and I was flexing.

With a communal dinner every night at The Bananas I was able to get in on that evenings shuttle into town for the Loi Krathong festival where families light lanterns and send them into the river, sometimes with money and often with nail trimmings (don't ask me) to rid themselves of bad mojo. Along with some fellow travelers and a German family with two little girls who were hard not to fall in love with, we were off through the chaos and noise that is a celebration in Thailand.

Wanting to join in on the festivities I purchased my own design to light looking far more like a loaf of bread than the ornate floral arrangements most seem to have selected from the families fastidiously making them river side. I selected a fun offering in the form a turtle with a bright red shell and chocolate chip eyes as as I lit it's candle and incense sticks and sent it down the already polluted water way I hoped with it I sent my bad energy as well.

Sleeping in the silence offers a deep sleep and some strange dreams.

As I adjust to Thai time the hour at which I rise gets later and later and on this particular morning it was almost 8 before I dressed and dined on a single pancake with banana and honey. A coke for breakfast, because calories or health concerns are irrelevant when abroad and I was properly hyped up to go kayaking for the day.

A group of 6 of us from the hostel took a quick bus ride to the local pier to embark on our adventure that morning, which would be a 2+ hour kayak trip around the bay led by a local.

The company was lovely and everyone, with the exception of our guide, spoke English beautifully. Also beautiful was the scenery. Secluded beaches, tall mossy caves and mangroves offering a unique landscape to this breathtaking, if not labor intensive, adventure.

All of the aforementioned items should have been my focus, but from the moment our very young and very petite guide disrobed from the waste up all I could think of was how much I longed to be in a harlequin novel about an older white woman on holiday who gets in touch with her sensuality with the help of a small Thai boy.

Turns out when you kayak in the tropics for a living you become quite lithe, quite sinewy. The sun makes you a dark cinnamony brown and the sticky air leaves a shimmery film of sweat on your body, giving the sun tendons and muscles and movement plateaus off which to happily bounce.

Perverse as it may be. It was beauty.
It was natural AND it was local, so by my estimation it was part of the tour.

Midday we were deposited back at the hostel, this time by sidecar Tuk Tuk. With the rain beginning to leak from the heavens we were left with limited entertainment options: Eat. Yes. Chat and socialize with the brother and sister doctors from Malaysia. Done. Catch up on American television somehow bootlegged onto YouTube. Check.

The sunset had been gorgeous the evening before and with the rain lessening to a drizzle, having broken the thick humidity, I decided to go on a walk.

An evening walk to watch a beautiful sunset and listen to songs that matter

Another communal dinner, family style - this time with curried vegetables and some pleasant conversation with the proprietor and his staff left me contended for several minutes on a row and I chose to savor that.

As the guests decided to take a late night dip to see the bio-luminescent plankton I took a dip, of another kind - to bed.

Sometimes moving slow feels good.
And sometimes that's ok.