Life As Canvas

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.