So I've been in the land of Juicy Green for about three weeks now. I'm nursing a slightly damaged left leg as a result of taking a corner a little too fast. Apparently 125 CCs is just too much. Perhaps the pirate's life is not in fact for me.
Before arriving in Thailand I spent 40 hours in airports and planes. My flight from LAX to Taipei was delayed an hour and a half, so I was stuck bored in Los Angeles longer than expected, but the delay resulted in a frantic push to connect to my flight going from Taipei to Bangkok. At the terminal in Taipei there was a corridor of staff escorting, nay, forcing us with commands from one landing jet to one about to take off. They were yelling run run run gogogogogo Bangkok hurry hurry. Little old ladies practically abandoned their canes in order to save weight for the sprint. It will probably be the closest thing to the tour de France I will experience. There was a farcical security check where the lady that was supposed to monitor the x-ray screen was too busy ripping off belts and backpacks of travelers to actually watch the screen the belts and backpacks passed by. They know how to move people in Asia.
But I finally got to Bangkok in the wee hours. I've never been to find a truce with Bangkok. For one, there are almost no attractions for a city that 15 million people call home. Sure, there are huge outdoor markets, and massive modern shopping complexes and a Buddhist wat or two, but try as I might, I can't find anything to actually do in Bangkok. Bangkok's main attraction is Bangkok itself. How does it stay together? How does it hum with such a pitch? How can so many moving parts interact without tearing itself apart? And why, for shitssake?
After sleeping off the jet lag and relearning (it's always relearned, never known) what heat and humidity is, I hopped a flight down to the islands and beaches area of Thailand. I didn't have a plan. At the little airport in Krabi I split a cab to town with a couple of strangers from Europe. We all quickly became friends, and with no real idea of what to do while I was in what many consider to be tropical paradise, I went with Sabine, a woman from Munich, to the island of Kho Phi Phi to learn how to scuba dive. Yeah, why not right?
Kho Phi Phi is a small strange destination in the Andaman Sea. It's composed mostly of cats, five inch millipedes, and reckless tourists. It's just a theory, but I think there is some kind of special island ecosystem wherein careless, reckless tourists leave garbage for the millipedes to eat, then the cats eat the millipedes, and then more tourists flock to the island to experience this deluge of cats. It cycles like that. Again, it's just a theory. The island got hit pretty hard in the tsunami years back but none of that is very obvious. It's been rebuilt with uncharacteristic speed, which is all the more impressive when you realize there are no roads or vehicles or heavy equipment on the island. Everything created (resorts, restaurants, docks, etc) is hand built....with hands. And without any roads or vehicles there is no need for space hogging things like parking lots or gas stations or mechanic shops. Despite having quite a lot of tourists and workers on the island, it'a all fairly contained and intimate. One of the beaches had a Vegas party feel to it, but if you went around the corner you'd find yourself in a classic honeymooner's cove. Oh, and there would definitely be a cat waiting there.
I've never really had any desire to learn how to dive but the island's heat compelled me into the water. Plus, it was a gorgeous environment with five hundred foot limestone cliffs jutting straight from the water, where above, some kind of Thai eagles would circle. On the Roy G. Biv sprectrum, the water was the the horizontal dash that completes the G. Clearly this place was more about the ocean than the land. Anyway, Sabine and I signed up to for a 3-4 day certificate course. At the time, and still now, I felt like it was a scam to force a person to take an official course to go diving. I always assumed that doing something potentially dangerous pitted your ignorance, knowledge, and boldness in a three-way battle. So if you want to cross crevasse laden glaciers, you read some books and buy a rope. The dude at REI that sells the rope doesn't ask for your credentials. Why can't you just ask your buddy to teach you how to dive and get a no-questions-asked air tank fill up? I'm trying not to rant, but I thought this was America!
Where was I? Ah, diving was a lot like I imagined it would be, but with the extra imagination dimension of actually doing it. In other words, there is no substitute for really being 60 feet underwater and removing your regulator. Or spooking a big ray, Or being totally submersed in the non terrestrial world, in crystal clear bath temperature water for 45 minutes with all those crazy fishes. It wasn't at all zen, but it was....neat....? I remember thinking the very slow, surging, elementary thought of "huh, this ocean world sure is different from the one I'm used to." I felt silly down there, thinking that. Don't most people figure that out when they are five years old after watching a NOVA special?
I like to combine activities. Which is why my life feels like a never ending picnic: I like to eat and I like to do other stuff. Doing a little diving made me wonder what activities could be combined with it. I've been dabbling in falconry the last couple years and it occurred to me that with just a little tweaking, you could combine diving with falconry and viola, using all the same principles of falconry you are now hunting underwater with a shark. Seriously. Birds and fishes are practically the same. Sharkonry. Trust me, it's only a matter of time.
A complaint with what seems like a simple remedy: one aspect of diving that I didn't imagine before actually doing it was how preposterously loud it was. For the duration of the dive you get a ceaseless blubobublubblouboblubble that is magnified by the constant psychological reminder that you are underwater and that you have to breath. Why can't they put a muffler on the regulator? Or a couple of exhaust stacks that extend up beyond your ears? Any enterprising inventors want to partner up on this problem?
After a week on Kho Phi Phi and four dives and some new friends, I flew up north to meet up with Steve and to check up on the farm. Last night Steve threw a little Christmas party for his friends in the village (they don't care about Christmas, but hey, let's be merry). It was great to see all the little kids, some of which I had met six years ago, getting bigger and less afraid of me. There is a major language barrier between me and most of the people I've gotten to know over here, but I've worked with a lot of them over the years, and the reunion is always exciting. This farm in this village feels a lot like a home away from home, and the relationships built here mean more to me than I previously realized.
The time here up north on the farm has been pretty low key. I knocked the cobwebs off the hut. There is an almost eternally raged battle of strategy and malice against a deceptive, possibly immortal rat that I'd be cool with if it would just be quiet at night. It never ends. It is so goddamn smart and loud.
After catching up with Steve I left for a five day bike trip through the overgrown mountains near the Laos border to the east, in Nan and Loei provinces. The scenery deserves much more attention than it receives from outsiders, but I'll keep that little secret to myself. The little towns I stayed in required that I speak Thai, lest I might not find a place to sleep for the night. But the roads were windy and steep (sorry, left leg...) and the guesthouses the right price ($8).
On the 29th I zoom over to Delhi. The picnic continues.
