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From my computer I can see the sea, it's shades of turquoise and other blues melded into one another, the coral beneath the surface of the clear water creating little islands inhabited by cities of sea creatures. The constant breeze is gentle and cool, rustling the palm trees and creating gentle swells and ripples in the otherwise calm sea. The sky is a bit overcast, so it's a cool day without the beating tropical sun here in Koh Tao, one of the smallest islands on the East Coast of Thailand.
No one hurries here, except the taxi drivers and speeding residents on their motorbikes. Tourists lounge on the beach and locals rest in their shops, barefoot and in sarongs and old t-shirts. It's quiet, the only noise being the sea and the breeze flowing through every open window. Small boats scurry across the water, their colorful bows sticking up out of the water while dark skinned, shirtless men steer the crafts towards their exotic destinations.
From my secluded bungalow I have a perfect view of the small, private white sand beach that our inexpensive resort lays claim to. It is a three minute walk to the water and the air is so mild here I have no need of air conditioning, which is good because I don't have any. It's six USD a night for me to have what in America or Europe would be a multi-million dollar view that can be reached only through a lot of traffic on Highway One and steel gates with angry guard dogs one either side. Lizards run around and sea birds caw in this land of wild vegetation and clear, unpolluted blue skies. To get here, you have to take a two hour boat and that's the fast one. It's a long train ride from Bangkok to get to the boat that takes you here and you have to get to Bankok before anything else. In short, I'm away from the cell phones and blaring music and rampant materialism that assaults every city in the world from Los Angeles to Bombay. This peace is priceless and it depends on a delicate balance between locals, tourists, and the Thai government. So, in a sense, we lost our paradise, which had crumbled beneath the weight of our conscience and our aspirations. It's still beautiful and relaxing and fun, but we can't enjoy it as much as the other beach bums and we know we can only be here temporarily.
From here, we plan to volunteer in a refugee camp on the Burmese border and then get to India sooner rather than later. Maybe, by avoiding Phuket and Angkor Wat (and their tourists by extension), we will have more time and funds to discover the real Thailand and the real India, ditching the big cities and famous sights for the small villages and forgotten poor. Maybe then we will really understand and grow as world citizens and we'd still have the pictures and stories that go along with adventure and travel. They would be ours and no one else's and we wouldn't need a guidebook to tell us how to have them.
previous travel blog entry
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