June 24, 2005
Flashback…February 26th (?), 2003. I arrived in Bangkok after a week alone in Beijing, China. My good friend, Emily, just happened to be spending a year in Thailand when I decided to travel there. Emily and her mom met me at the hotel, and the next morning, her mom went back to the states at the same time Em and I boarded a short flight to Phuket. I really wanted to see Koh Phi Phi. Before heading out to Thailand, I rented every movie I could find to see what it looked like. I had rented The Beach (not one of Hollywood’s finest) and desperately wanted to see the island it was filmed on. I knew it would be overrun with tourists. I knew that there would be things there that would make me cringe, but the beauty of what I saw on film had to be seen.
We boarded the ferry, and found a spot at the front of the boat, feet dangling over the side. It had been snowing in Beijing, and 12 hours later, I was slathered in sunscreen, hotter than ever. The ocean was more beautiful than I had imagined, with monolithic limestone karsts jutting straight out of the azure water, tempting fantasy. As we approached the harbor of the island, I was dumbfounded with the beauty that was in front of us. It seemed unreal. So did the amount of tourists! There were no cars on the island, so the ‘streets’ were narrow. One souvenir shop was followed by another selling the same goods, then a restaurant, and another, and another. It was amazing how many businesses were operating in the same breathing space. Apparantly, these narrow walkways caused quite a problem during the tsunami.
It was also high season, so a bit of a challenge to find a place. Eventually, we ended up following a friendly Thai man, carrying our luggage, across a narrow footpath to our little oasis- a bit of a hike from the main area, but that’s about my style. The brochures we had looked at pictured our hotel, cabanas standing alone, decks facing the bay.
Aesthetically, I was pleased. . I took a deep, wet breath, and could smell the plumeria caught in the dense heat, the salt in the air.I stood out on the rickety deck for a while, listening for the gentle sound of the ocean, the wind whistling through the palms, birds chirping amidst the hibiscus and bouganvillea. We were on a hill, and could see the flat stretch of land that met the bay. The water was so clear, it started out white at the shore, and gradually became green, then turquoise, and finally blue as it reached the coral reef. Decorated longtail boats bounced around ever so slightly, anchored several yards off the shore.
I really could hear all of those things if I concentrated hard enough, but many of those sounds were somewhat trumped by the motors of the boats, and an inconsistent “fwap fwap fwap” of the ceiling fan in our room. It was hung at a rather odd angle, giving us respite from the oppressive heat, yes, but I couldn’t quite figure out where on the bed I would have to lay to make sure it wouldn’t land on me if it chose to be airborne. There was no mosquito netting over the bed, yet I could see the ground below the cabana through the slats in the wooden floor. Now, I am a ‘when in Rome’ kind of girl, and giggled at these oddities. That is, until Emily went to take a shower. I heard a grown, and figured it a response to a cold shower, which I was anticipating indifferently. “Is it cold?” I asked her.
“Hardly. It’s quite warm….and salty.” Hmmmm….ocean water. Sounds refreshing.
We checked out the nightlife-firedancers, and a slue of twenty-somethings drinking mixed drinks out of buckets. If I didn’t look at the menus and restaurant names, I could have been in Mexico, Greece, anywhere touristy that draws college-aged kids. It was absolutely gorgeous, but one night was enough, so we left the next day.
So why am I compelled to go back to this island? I saw the news, and the pictures. My jaw dropped. I cried. I became fixated on the TV for a little longer than I would call healthy. And it wasn’t long before it was clear to me that this island was absolutely, positively WRECKED.
I am not interested in vodka and red bull buckets. I am not interested in firedancers. I am not interested in partying with 22 year-olds looking to find themselves in another country with 32 people from their hometown. But, I am compelled to join them, in all of their heartfelt intentions, in rebuilding a once-beautiful island for the locals, who have been all but overlooked by the Thai government. I am nervous about it, really, on some very deep, and also completely superficial levels. I have been desperately searching for adjectives that feel right about my apprehension, but it just isn’t worth the time. Four days. That’s it. When all is said and done, I will be in Thailand for about 40 days, and I am dwelling in about the first four. Hmmm….I think that is a reality check that it is time to go to bed and let it go. But I wanted to make sure there was something to compare and contrast once I actually get there.
Less than two days to go, and counting…..
-Rebecca
P.S. I caught a glimpse of the front page of SUnday's Chron- I think Phi Phi is on the front page. I am going to have to get one to bring over there.
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