When Good Beaches Go Bad – Koh Pha Gnan, Thailand
Sunday, June 10th, 2007After 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.
I decided not to go out last night and instead slept soundly, waking around 6:30am to the hurried sounds of heavy rain. It’s 9:00am now and I’m sitting outside our hotel waiting for Erika to get back from the tattoo shop where she’s saying goodbye to her new Thai friends. The road is drying out slowly in the sun and the hotel guy plays with his baby boy, smiling and naked from the waist-down, little bells ringing on golden anklets about his pudgy baby feet. It’s already hot outside and the air is heavy, pressing down on my sticky skin, saturating my clothes, which cling to my sweaty body.
The heat is the one constant that ties this island town together. Everything else is constantly changing shape. Stores open and close at strange hours, some seem to disappear altogether. It’s almost impossible to give someone directions to a place as the little shop next to it is sure to exist at night but may morph into a wall during the day. And the periodic rains bring out the eaves, the reflections, and the smells. Crowds of “farang” (foreigners) pulse through the streets in clots and then, a day later, it’s quiet again. But never completely quiet as each restaurant catering to the Western masses plays pop music and episodes of Friends on loop during the day and a string of movies at night.
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.
bonniecaton