Life As Canvas

Or, Incarnations of Myself 

Ever catch yourself feeling sad that the past was a bright, exciting place and the present seems so gray in comparison?

I do.

But even if the past really were that great (and it wasn’t quite what I make it out to be in these moments), it’s a ridiculous thing to get sad about.

That I lived something amazing should be a reason for daily celebration.

Why do we do amazing things, anyway? Certainly not so that the future will seem dull in comparison! No one scales a mountain to be able to say, “Tomorrow will be boring compared to this!”

No!

We do great things to live fully in the moment, to have something splendid to think back on, and to bring the better elements of our experience into our present lives, where they will color our personality and touch everything that we do.

We don’t do them to lament the moments that feel less intense, but to carry more meaning and understanding of the world into everything that surrounds us. To seed each moment with something we have already lived so we may watch it continue to grow with us.

How else can we, ourselves, grow?

Not by mourning the things we used to have, but by integrating everything we’ve had and everyone we’ve been into right now, giving us a lifetime to pull from as we create who we are, from minute to minute, every day.

Home again, I’m still struggling a little to fall asleep at a decent hour. Anyhow, there are so many things to think about – the what’s next of life – that sleeping is difficult. I never stop wondering at the way time really does fly by. What a trip. Six months of travel seems to have blinked by as fast as night turns to day. But it wasn’t a dream! I’ve got the photos to prove it, they’re all there, I’ve gone through them, and I’ll post a “best of” somewhere on-line in a week or two.

Here’s a quick recap of my journey.

10 Best Sights:

1. Machu Picchu, Peru

2. Perito Moreno Glacier, Patagonia, Argentina

3. Bamboo Island, Southern Thailand (no photo of Bamboo Island – this is the island next door)

4. Salar de Uyuni, Bolivia

5. Iguazu Falls, Argentina

6. Fitz Roy Mountain in Patagonia, Argentina

7. Angkor Wat, Cambodia

8. Palenque, Mexico

9. Lake Titicaca, Bolivia and Peru

10. Colca Canyon, Peru

10 Most Annoying Experiences:

1. Getting ripped off by a Mexican self-proclaimed tour guide
2. Waking up to find credit cards and money missing from my backpack on the night bus in Thailand
3. Having food poisoning and being sick for 2 and a half days in Peru
4. Hiking and camping in the pouring rain for 2 days and a night in Patagonia
5. Feeling harassed by tuk-tuk drivers and being cheated out of money by the exchange in Cambodia
6. Waiting for tourist buses in Thailand, taking days to travel a few hundred kilometers
7. Slipping on a rock in the river in Thailand and getting an infection on my foot
8. Pushing the bus that was stuck in the mud on the way to Machu Picchu, Peru
9. Fighting off mosquitoes
10. Walking with my huge backpack in the sweltering heat, Mexico, Argentina, Thailand, Cambodia

Best Food:

1. Green Curry, Thailand
2. Chicken Coconut Lemongrass Soup, Thailand
3. Steak, Argentina
4. Coconut Lobster, Mexico
5. Beans, eggs and tortillas for breakfast, Mexico
6. Kimchi, South Korea
7. Roadside tacos, Mexico
8. Coconut banana shakes, Thailand
9. Mango and sticky rice dessert, Thailand
10. Garlic trout, Lake Titicaca, Peru

I technically traveled through 12 countries:

Mexico
Argentina
(Paraguay)
(Brazil)
Bolivia
Peru
Ecuador
Spain
France
Thailand
Cambodia
(South Korea)

Though I only spent a day or two in the countries in parentheses, I also technically went around the world, always flying east. So I’ve done it! I’ve been around the world, though there are so many places I still want to see (like India and Africa). What’s next? I don’t know. Here’s what I figure… life is so much more fun when you fill it with things that interest you, things that draw you out and make you take risks. If you’ve dreamed it up and you find that you can do it, then do it. So what will I do? Where will life lead me? I guess I’ll follow my heart – it hasn’t led me astray yet.

Eleven hours layover in a country you’ve never been to can be looked at two ways. Either you can resign yourself to walking up and down the glossy corridors and occasionally riding the moving walkway from duty-free to duty-free until the lack of sleep catches up, zombifying you, -or- you can get a new stamp in your passport and go out on the town to see the sights and test the kimchi.

Well I only had a few hours once I figured in transit time, customs, orientation, etc. So I strolled over to the tourist info booth where I was handed a brand new shiny guidebook and map. Smiling, the information lady thoroughly explained everything for me and then wrote it all onto little post-its marking the pages that would help me most. After months of chaos, days upon tired days of taxi drivers yelling in my face, people from hostels and guesthouses harassing me at the gate and having no access to anything do-it-yourself such as a map, once I got to Seoul, the ease of it all blew me away.

Though I only had an afternoon, Seoul didn’t awe me with its sights. It’s a large city with plenty of sky scrapers and traffic but for being so big it is relatively clean and everyone I met was patient and friendly with me. In the food court of a large shopping center, I was the only Westerner around, which was unsettling at first. I felt looked-at, which I was, but to me it’s worth it to feel a little uneasy in a place that doesn’t cater to tourists. Seoul may not have wowed me with flashy displays of cultural history but it felt like a place I could stay for a while. I was immersed in Seoul as it is today, the way the people living there like it, and not made up to look a certain way for those who might visit. The best way I can think of to describe it is that it felt real.

My glossy new guidebook described Korea as “old meets new.” While it’s a pretty broad statement, I couldn’t deny it. In Seoul, a very modern city, there are still ancient palaces and old quarters to visit. I went to Deoksugung Palace, right in the center of the city next to city hall. It’s a collection of wooden buildings with huge, sweeping rooftops.

From the outside, the buildings look simple, painted in a deep red color or left unpainted. But once you approach, you can see colorful detailed paintings under the eaves and inside the rooms.

From the courtyards, over the traditional curved tile rooftops, skyscrapers pierce the clouds and a changing of the guards procession shimmers in their colorful clothes under the city skyline.

Next to the large, impressive front gates sits a Dunkin’ Donuts, and there’s an Outback Steakhouse across the street. Old and new certainly do meet, they’re practically shaking hands, and I like that a large city such a Seoul can advance and keep up with modern times while preserving important cultural sites right in the middle of it all.

In street markets you won’t find too many touristy souvenirs, but shops of shoes, toys, auto parts, clothing, or old Chinese cures, bottles of ginseng, and animal parts you don’t see much in the States. Food isn’t everywhere like it is in Bangkok, but it’s easy enough to find cafes or tea houses (or Starbucks, if you want). Back in the airport, I noticed that the food court is divided into two categories: Korean food and Western food. On one side sits Burger King, Pizza Hut, Subway. On the other side you can buy noodle soups and pumpkin taffy. I decided to sample the kimchi noodle soup, and was glad I did. Just spicy enough, I slurped the stuff down happily. Next to me, two Korean men sat at a table chatting. One of them was slurping his soup like me. The other was finishing off a whopper and fries. Old meets new.

Then it was time to take another long plane ride. I’d finished my book and was going a little crazy by about the second hour, knowing I had 9 more to go. I read the tour guide to Korea for a while, looking at the pictures of the mountains in the countryside. I’d like to go back one day to see them.

P.S. If you ever get a chance to fly Korean Air, you are one lucky traveler. We’re talking cushy seats, lots of foot room, snappily-dressed friendly attendants, fresh juice, lots of food, little fuzzy socks. They give you stickers that say “Do not disturb,” “Wake me for meal service,” and “Wake me for duty free,” which you can conveniently stick to your headrest. You’d think you were in business class. What do the business and first-class fliers get, a massage?

P.P.S. I went so crazy in the plane I made a silver-leaf picture of a bird out of a Wrigley Spearmint gum wrapper.

Tonight I’m leaving Bangkok and I’m still just as hot and sticky as the day I got here. It’s the kind of place that overwhelms to the point that after a few hours in the street I want to run and hide in a cold, dark room. But all in all, I like Bangkok. All corners of the world come together here, mixing to make harsh sounds, strange smells, and rude t-shirts.

Bangkok (and watching Erika bargain with tuk-tuk drivers) is teaching me to stick to my guns, to be suspicious but smile, and to get what I want out of a place where anyone can get anything. Or be anything, for that matter. Men are women, poor people walk the streets with flashy “Rolex” watches, Thais dress like Westerners and Westerners dress like Thais. Where Cambodia and its contrasts made me uneasy at times, Thailand’s non sequiturs just make me laugh. Men with dread locks down to their waists in Bob Marley shirts preach freedom from oppression in a country that has never been colonized. Then they tell you how much they love their king.

Yesterday Erika and I decided to see the more traditional side of Bangkok and toured the Royal Palace, along with the temples of the Emerald and Reclining Buddhas. Though many people “kindly” stopped us along the way to tell us the temples were closed today and today only and we should really go with them to see something else instead, we walked on and what do you know? Everything was open. Both places were flooded with people longing to get a peek at one Buddha or another and ogle the ornately decorated temple walls. Light flashes from mirrored or golden surfaces wherever you look.

As usual, the heat got to us eventually and we chilled out in the air con for a while before hitting the night market where, if you’re very slick, you can get a vendor to take out his our her bag of fake Rolex’s, fake designer handbags, and many many other high-quality questionable items. So many shiny things! There is also an abundance of silks, souvenirs, wooden carved Buddhas, clothing, shoes, almost anything one could want, and way too much of it.

I’d say we took advantage of our time here and home is starting to sound inviting. Green forests, rain on the roof, my squishy bed, cool nights, fresh air, and the faces and voices of the people I love.

Goodbye Thailand, see you again someday.

It’s been a lazy few days here on Koh Tao, one of Thailand’s smaller popular islands. Koh Tao is known for scuba diving which becomes very obvious as you step off the boat and are accosted by smiling, sign-holding men who come up between the guidebook you’re reading and your face, practically screaming “You want scuba tour? You need bungalow??” We swatted at them. Like flies they scattered, then came back. The trick, I find, is to either look them in the eye and, with a cold face, say “no” to everything they say, even if it’s “Where you from?” Or smile and yell “Go away, go away, go awayyyyy!”

After the initial frenzy was over and the crowd had dissipated, we made our way (again, clumsily, stumbling, with our big swaying backpacks) over sandy beach upon sandy beach to a little cluster of bungalows on stilts.

For a few days we did pretty much nothing. We went to the beach, swam, got a massage, watched fire dancers on the beach and sipped lots of fruit shakes. We needed to soak up as much beach as possible before heading back to the crazy city life in Bangkok.

Yesterday, though, we went on a snorkel tour just along the outside of the island. The first stop we made was at a place called “Shark Point.” This is because it is teeming with sharks. Normally, the idea would make me nervous but our guides told us they don’t bite and that sometimes you could see them swiming around in the shallows. With that, I was the first one off the boat, speeding through the water with my fins and snorkel, scanning the bottom for sharks and then, a familiar flick of a tail… a shark! It was only about 3 feet long but I got excited and looked back to the boat to see if anyone else was nearby. They were all still on the boat. So I slowly paddled on, letting the warm water lap up against my skin, admiring the little fluorescent blue fishies below when I saw something big and grey. With a start I realized it was another shark. This one was about 6 feet long, though, and fat. I blinked in awe. Then it turned a little too suddenly and started to move in my direction. Panicked, I turned and swam, slowly, slowly away. No need to be nervous, I reminded myself, but when you see a big shark for the first time, warning lights go off in the brain.

After checking out a few more friendly sharkes, we stopped to snorkel around choral and see some other colorful fish. I felt like I had plunged right into another post card. The deep blue water, the yellow fish, blue anemones, and oddly shaped hills of choral, all so clearly visible in the water, which is incredibly warm and calm, here.

Though we didn’t want to pay for the course, it seems like the perfect spot to get your scuba certificaton and maybe one day I’ll come back to do so.

Today we’re off to Bangkok again! That giant hub crawling with people, smells, loudness. It’s overwhelming sometimes but I like it in short doses. From Bangkok I’ll be making my final move – home – and on the way I get to stop off in Seoul, Korea for 6 hours. Stories about the Seoul airport coming up!

Thus far in my travels, no place has marked me quite like Cambodia. The very moment after crossing over the border from Thailand, I feel that it’s different from anywhere I’ve been. Even before making it out of Thailand, a young man dressed in black follows us around the border control, trying to be “helpful,” asking us where we’re from, where we plan to go. He loses us as we walk through customs and finds us again on the other side.

Trying to shake him, we ignore him as he continues to talk to us. We stumble through the mud streets, swaying under our heavy packs, stepping over piles of garbage and mangy dogs. This is a border town in a poor country. Kids with protruding bellies run around barefoot, in fact most people aren’t wearing shoes. Peddle carts and motorbikes are everywhere, making for noise and commotion, fumes in the air. People approach us from all directions in dirty torn clothes, asking us where we’re going. They’re persistent. They get right in our faces. “Where you go? Where you go? Hey lady!” Somehow we make it to the bus station but the last bus to Siem Reap is gone. Finally we jump in a taxi for a whopping 20 bucks each for 3 hours along an all-dirt road. It’s a bumpy ride. It’s dark outside and lightning reveals the horizon like a flash bulb. I ask myself what I’m getting into.

In Seam Reap, things relax a bit. It’s a tourist town, after all, with paved streets and less trash. There’s plenty of Barang (foreigners) to go around so the tuk-tuks call to us from a distance. I feel my shoulders drop and my jaw de-clench.

Here, the tourists are a bigger mix of Asians with Westerners. There are many Chinese, Koreans and Cambodians as well. We Occidents are few in the crowd. There are no McDonalds, no 7-11’s (quite popular in Thailand), nothing that screams “home” for me, and I like that. There are plenty of pretty things to buy, though, and we make our way through the dark, hot markets, our eyes widening at the silks and statues, the opium pipes and the artwork.

The first thing on our to-do list, besides nabbing a few scarves, is Angkor Wat. It’s a collection of stone temples from the 12th century, sometimes Buddhist and Hindu in the same temple, spanning over a few square kilometers. We start the day at sunrise, when the air is cool on our clammy skin.

Stepping into the magnific structure feels like walking through Indiana Jones or Tomb Raider (which it should, because the latter was filmed there).

Thick roots and vines hang down over huge stone blocks, some in ruin, others still quite intact. Sculptures dance, fight and meditate in the shadows on the walls while real monkeys scramble over the rooftops.

From some places you can hear monks humming in meditation and shrines to Buddha pop up in every other corner, the smoke from their incense adding to the mystic feel of it all.

Though we’re in awe of the immensity of it, by noon we’re burnt out and hot.

The next day we’re off to Cambodia’s capitol, Phnom Penh. From the bus window, rice patties float by, broken up with clusters of palm trees and houses on stilts. It’s in Phnom Penh that we see the dark sinister side of Cambodia’s story, over 5 years of civil war, forced labor, and genocide under Pol Pot and his Khmer Rouge Regime, which took over the capitol and then the country in 1975. When we arrive, I’ve already started reading about the atrocities committed not 30 years ago in a book called “First They Killed My Father.” It makes me cry. It’s strange to me to read a personal story about a girl as she witnesses her family members’ deaths and endures work in a forced labor camp while I’m traveling through the country where it happened. Anyone in their 40’s on the bus with me went through the same thing and yet they look so normal to me. They’re going about their daily lives, smiling at their babies, chatting and eating snacks. 30 years ago the majority of them were literally starving.

We settle in to our Guesthouse and set out to see two things that will actually widen my view of the world in an important way. One is the Killing Fields, a place where people were executed regularly and thrown into mass graves. The other is Tuol Sleng, a high school turned prison, where the communist Khmer Rouge Regime tortured people for many reasons, including being involved in the former government, being a doctor, being educated, wearing glasses, speaking another language, being related to one of these people or for no reason but being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Walking through The Killing Fields, if you didn’t know where you were, you might think it a pleasant place to be. Soft breezes bend flowers and leaves in the sun while big butterflies flit by. There are grand, leafy trees surrounding a grassy park where a tall stupa stands in the middle, its golden rooftop gleaming. But a closer look evokes a chill as it reveals the thousands of skulls piled on shelves inside, a tribute to those who were murdered here.

Look even closer and you can even see pieces of clothing still sticking up out of the dirt in places and shards of bone in others. A guide tells a group of people how the Khmer Rouge killed babies and again, I cry. I walk around slowly, trying to take it in, and spot two little boys just outside, hanging on to the chain link fence. They smile at me and say “hello!” I say “hello.” Then in unison, they sing “Picture? One, two, three, smile! One, two, three, smile!” When I tell them no picture, they ask for some money. I give them crayons instead, which they take with glee and skip back off into the fields next door.

Tuol Sleng, the prison, is gruesome. Though it still looks like a high school on the outside, rusty iron beds and torture instruments remain in their original rooms, sometimes with a blown-up black and white photo of the people found maimed and dead in them on the wall. Thousands of mug shots fill a room, black and white photos of the faces of people, all ages, who know they will die. After Vietnam chased the Khmer Rouge away, many people were missing family members. Some of them learned of their death by seeing their picture here in the museum.

The Lonely Planet calls Cambodia a “land of contrasts.” This annoys me. It seems the Lonely Planet is always calling places this. But this time I can’t help feeling that it is a place that deserves to be branded as such. Before going there, the word “Cambodia” didn’t evoke much for me. Now, I think of gigantic stone faces smiling serenely at me from temples in the jungle, delicious curries, and friendly people. Sounds nice, and it is, but once you know of it, it’s impossible to ignore the recent past full of genocide, war, torture, and terror that goes along with the impressive ancient culture. Everyone over 30 in the country saw death and ruin on their own soil. They lived in constant fear and hunger under a regime that outlawed such things as cars, jewelry, watches, personal possessions, love, music, or anything that might encourage individuality and spirit. People walk in the streets of Phnom Penh with missing arms and legs from stepping on land mines as children. The economy is still struggling to make up for the loss. But in time, they’ve rebuilt their homes, their families, their lives. They haven’t forgotten, yet they go on.

If you’re interested and can stand the gruesome details, I suggest reading the two books I’ve read while here:

First They Killed My Father, by Loung Ung, and
When Broken Glass Floats, by Chanrithy Him (who now lives in Eugene, OR)

Both are first-hand accounts by women of life (and struggling to keep it) as a young girl during the Khmer Rouge Regime.

Wikipedia has all sorts of info on Cambodia

There is also the movie “The Killing Fields”

And then there’s the Campaign for A Landmine Free World

I was so sleepy and the seats on this particular night bus were so cosy. The blankets were fluffy and I had two seats all to myself, so I spread out. I threw my bag on the floor since no one was in the seats around me. I slept well that night. Too bad Erika and I were both missing credit cards and cash the next day (and my new favorite bubblegum pink beach towel – the nerve).

This is the kind of lesson that needs to be learned each time. I don’t know how many times I’ve been told to keep my bag on my lap and squeeze it to my chest as I sleep on the bus. But this bus felt safe. It had a big painting of The Hulk done in professional airbrush on the side of it with plush curtains and friendly staff. But by the next day at least one person on that friendly staff charged over 2,000 dollars on Erika’s credit card. She’s protected against theft, so she’ll be alright but damn. They were sneaky enough to move things around in our wallets, taking only one card and some cash and when we ran into some other people from the same bus, the same thing happened to them. Even our luggage in the lower compartment had been searched through. We were lucky to notice it early on and we were lucky not to lose our passports and other things.

So again, to those who might want to put their bags on the floor just that one time in that really nice snazzy-looking bus, don’t do it. Take your bag in your arms like a long lost lover and hug it all night long.

After milling about the jungle for a bit among the leeches and the monkeys, Erika and I decided that a few days away from the beach merited one thing: to get back to the beach. Cousin Joe advised us on an itinerary and Koh Pha Gnan, (pronounced koh pa nyan and known for crazy parties) was next on the list.

Getting there, as with getting anywhere in Thailand, was a little tricky. As usual, we had the choice of trying to find the connections ourselves or just giving in to the tourist circuit and booking the whole thing through. We were tired, so we booked it, which turned out to be a bad idea, as we were dropped off at the same crazy tour agency who made us wait 4 extra hours last time and this time they were claiming we’d have to stay in town an extra night. Lies, all lies! We stormed out of there, found our way to the dock, and bought a ticket on the night boat, easy as pie.

A long night passed as we rocked in our big wooden boat on thin pads on the floor, trying to sleep through the heat and mosquitoes. By 7am we docked at yet another beautiful island with glowing teal waves and white sand. Unfortunately for me, though many seem to like it, it’s also infested with tourists looking to drink, smoke, and drink. The shiny clean beach atmosphere sags under their presence. An excerpt from my journal describes it best:

My mouth fills with sweet coconut cream and crushed ice and I wonder what these daily banana-coconut shakes that so happily replaced chai could be doing for my cholesterol. Oh well. I’m only here for a few more weeks so I relish the silky white stuff and decide not to think about the fat.

These islands have been turned into a playground for the drunk and painted over with thick, chipping Americana. Little pieces of the original Thailand show through the cracks but for the most part, it’s missing. Places like this are enjoyable for the beautiful beach and the existence of peanut butter and crepes but also make me mourn the loss of something older that has retreated into the deep side streets and unknown towns. Why travel thousands of miles only to feel like you’re home, or worse, in the thick of Saturday night in a college town? The beach alone is nice, but less lustrous when full of hung over honkeys.

Erika had a good birthday on the island, nonetheless, spending it in the tattoo shop getting a bamboo tattoo. We went on a snorkel trip but found that they, too, were catering to the masses and passed around buckets of alcohol and pot. I just wanted to get in the water and see some fish but most of the snorkeling gear was broken.

Koh Pha Gnan is a partiers’ paradise. But to everyone else, it’s just partiers running amok on a beautiful backdrop.

Today we’re back in Bangkok, busy as ever, and tomorrow it’s off to Cambodia to see if we can find some tradition.

I was alone in the blinding sun, squinting for having lost my sunglasses, my bare feet slipping along soft white sand, my naked belly and legs delighting in the breeze. Everything was brightness where the midday sun found the sand and made for a surreal heavenly feeling while storm clouds collected on the horizon and let out the occasional grumble.

The day started early and filled up with snorkeling through waters I can only describe with names of gemstones. Emerald, turquoise, jade, aquamarine all moving and sparkling, glints of yellow and blue fish flickering below the surface.

By late afternoon we were kayaking to Bamboo Island, a little, round, jungle-covered mound wrapped in bright white sand dipping in warm shallow ocean. And I had it all to myself. I found some shade below a gnarly old tree and sat on a rock and just tried to take in the reality of it. You see these things in books and movies and on shiny magazine covers and being there just feels unreal in a delightful escapism sort of way. I was sitting in one of the very spots that inspire those posters in offices meant to help us escape for a minute or two. I felt like I’d climbed right through the wall.

During the day we saw where “The Beach” was filmed (and understood why), swam and snorkeled, kayaked around into hidden coves and lonely beaches.

When one of the Thai guides brought around fresh pineapple and watermelon we sat on the edge of the boat eating the cool fruit, swinging our feet, contemplating the things we’d seen.

The concept of “reality” keeps coming up in conversation with the different people we meet. They like to talk about getting away from it or going back to it but that idea bothers me. This is reality. It knocks you over with its beauty as the ease of life shuffles by and smiles and says hello. Though it may seem like something you’ve made up in sleep, it’s real, it’s there before you, and you’re experiencing it. It also leaves mad sunburns on your upper thighs which are pretty real for the next few days. I have no photos of that perfect beach and so it enters into my memory to set the scene for future dreams.

After relaxing under full moon tides in Thai Rasta bars and falling asleep spread eagle under the oscillating fan in our room on stilts, we left the islands and headed for Krabi, known in the rock climbing world as a laid-back climber playground. And it lives up to its name. We stayed on secluded Ton Sai Beach which can only be reached by boat at high tide or walking over slippery rocks at low tide. As we wobbled over those rocks muscly climbers struggled on overhangs above us. By night, Thais with dreadlocks were fire dancing to Bob Marley on the beach.

Ever the curious and giddy explorers, we kayaked the next day to find more secret coves, jungle-lined white beaches, and mounds of limestone with stalactites seeming to melt into the ocean. This was all lovely but it was time to get down to business and do some climbing, which is what we’d come for.

Our guide’s name was Him. Him climbed barefoot, telling me to belay (secure him with the rope) without really checking to see if I knew how. (Thanks for all of the years of safety lessons, Dad, I see you squirming already.) After he set up the anchor, he came down and told me it was my turn. I pushed and pulled my way up as he said slangy American things from below like “good move, man” and “nice.” When I got back to ground level, sweating and grinning like a crazy woman, he said to Erika “Okay, your turn,” then turned to me and said “You belay, I going to buy some thing” and took off into town to buy water and cigarettes. Nice lessons.

When he got back he gave me a back massage while I belayed and yelled to Erika suggestions and advice. “Move your foot where you right knee you. No! Right knee you!!” Then he gave me another back massage. That evening I was so tired I told the big spider in our room he could stay wherever he was hiding and hit the sack, though a few geckos scared me with their sudden movements across the wall. Ah just a gecko.

Spider Story:

Entering our little cabana at night, I reached to put the key down on a beam and saw something big and leggy scuttle by my fingers and into the curtains. When I peeked in behind them I saw eight legs sprawled out to the circumference of a tennis ball and shuddered. “Oh Erika! Big big big spider!” I said, prancing across the room in disgust. “Lemme see it,” she said. I shook my head “I don’t think you want to.” But she looked anyway and started freaking out with me. Minutes later we found a very nice Thai lady and meekly asked if it might be removed? Please? She said “I’ll get the men.” Still minutes after we were watching the big fuzzy black thing streak across the wall as a boy from the hotel reached for it with his bare hands. He hit the wall with a whack and the spider came flying off into the center of the room straight for where Erika and I were standing huddled together, trying not to shriek. Then it disappeared into a corner somewhere. “Don’t worry,” the woman said with a smile, “I have many in my house.” And we bore the heat well tucked tightly into our blankets all night.

Oh I have so many things to say and show about these last few days but I’m sitting in a very slow and expensive internet cafe on a beach that is only accessible by high tide where the electricty is only turned on at night. So, I’ll give you all a sneak peek at what’s to come…

Snorkeling in turquoise waters and finding emerald coves and white abandoned beaches that look nicer than that Microsoft background you may have with the palm tree and the island.

Kayaking through (again) turquoise greeny waters that lap gently up against jungle-covered rocks sticking up out of the ocean.

Erika getting peed on by a coconut.

Rock climbing at the beach with a Thai guide who gives shoulder massages as you belay.

Seeing all sorts of animal life, including a curious little monkey, stray cats, flying fish, and one big, juicy, hairy, jumping spider about the size of a tennis ball. (shudder)

So don’t touch that dial, we’ll be back in service once the electricity is a little more consistent.