a beach bum, no more

My last two days in Koh Tao (I don't know why my English guide insists on calling it "Ko Tao" when it's not how the locals spell it) were my favorites on this trip. My vacations are usually not vacations, in that I'm zipping from one place to the next, rarely, if ever taking the time to chill out; I have a difficult time spelling the word "relax" (and for that matter, "moderation"), if you know what I mean. That's why I was eager to take this trip: to see lands I've never been to, to actually try and embrace relaxation because I think it's my next evolutionary step, so to speak. And I've succeeded enough to be proud of the progress I knew I was capable of.

Two days ago (I know it's the 6th but I'm not even sure what day of the week it is), the sun finally came out and I got myself scorched and scorched gooood. I read a bunch on the beach and scribbled a lot when not snoozing. When I wasn't doing that, I just stared out into the beach or waded in the waist-high water (the stinky thing about Sairee Beach is that coral outgrowths begin very close to the beach) and sifted through all these thoughts that have been plaguing me lately. Sure, relaxation is a goal, but when I'm on the beach, I naturally default to two principles: comfort and contemplation. Chasing butterflies, like some of the stray pooches around here, isn't quite my thing, but ruminating about my life and who I am, oh yeah; that's my chocolate sundae. Even looking at young attractive women (and gawd were they plentiful on the islands, thanks to the locals y las turistas) gets boring after awhile. A perpetual hard-on has never done humanity any good.

After watching some BBC News loops and a couple of naps, I rolled myself a joint, toked up, and went out, armed with my camera, determined to capture the beauty that is sunset on Koh Tao. It was outright stunning. I burned through an entire roll of film, just walking down the beach and along pedestrian walkways along Sairee Beach, snapping pictures of the sunset, the island, silhouetted people and children playing in the sun, dogs sitting on piers, and a couple of crafty self-compositions that I'm eager to see how they turned out. I continued on, walking at least a kilometer along the closest thing to a freeway here, past all the trucks and scooters that zipped past, to the pier where I came in my first day here. It was amazing to behold. I walked out to a pier, sat at the edge and just marvelled at the colors of the sky, knowing I may never, ever have the great fortune to come back here again. My favorite part, besides the multitude of photos I took, was walking past this cute Thai kid, probably five, wearing an orange and navy-blue striped shirt and shorts. He had a fluffy, don't fuck with me cuz I'm cool Bruce Lee-ish kind of hair-do, and he held a toy gun which he used to shoot the scooters, vehicles, and pedestrians like me, who crossed his path. He noticed that I saw him and with my back to him, I heard him make a "boom" sound. I clutched my chest and staggered a bit and heard him giggle.

That night I went to this neat Australian pub with Wyn, my British/Chilean homie, and listened to this ex-pat sing and play songs with his acoustic. He was not bad. For a young 'un, he displayed a decent range, playing a few old Oasis songs (let me go on the record and say I loved it), a Simon and Garfunkel tune, some Coldplay and Radiohead. We kept drinking these sweet, sweet mojitos, which they had a dos por uno special on. It was so good to just hear some damn music. Now, depending on what mood I'm in, I just play whatever song I feel in my head, so I'm not so absent (not the same, though).

My last full day in Koh Tao I went snorkeling for the first time. I was just a libbo frightened because I have put a gas mask on and felt incredibly claustrophobic with something that tight on my face, seemingly impairing my respiration. For the equivalent of 20 smackers, we got a boat ride from 9 AM - 4 PM around the island, to five different snorkeling locations. An outrageous price (as in good for me).

The first time I plunged in with my big neon flippers, and tried to breathe through the snorkel, I freaked out. I waded and told myself I could do this and went again and it was so simple.

It was absolutely amazing; if I had the energy (which I did), I would have snorkeled the entire day. I have never seen or felt that underwater world. I saw no sharks, no moray eels (I was extremely tempted a few times to dive deep under to some dark, coral outgrowths where I thought trouble, like a vicious moray eel, might lurk; but even I was not stupid enough to chance it!), but I saw two barracudas and this HUGE, two foot long, super chubby fish that could have easily bitten a nice chunk out of my now burnt and bronzed body. I did follow it closely, but started giggling with fear whenever it even turned in my direction! Giggling and burping through a snorkel, by the way, if you haven't had the opportunity, is a neat experience in my book. Today I noticed both of my ankles are noticeably swollen from snorkeling.

The last night I had dinner again with Wyn, grabbed some beers and watched these fire-twirlers bedazzle the tourist crowds, called it a night, hugged, and wished each other happy trails. And today has been nothing but traveling, I nearly (should have) lost my camera just before my bus to Bangkok left. Once I noticed it was missing, I pushed through all the other tourists who were crowding their buses to board. Once I got to the toilet, the last spot where I know I didn't take it with me, I screamed my head off, assured that someone had stolen it. But I must have left it somewhere, while waiting for my bus, and some decent, good spirit had the kindness and presence to take it to information where I retrieved it, antsy and shouting at the woman to hand over my camera (she insisted on taking my passport to photocopy to "file a report"), just when the buses were leaving. I can't believe I got it back when I should have lost it, and I feel bad that I was so flustered and galloped off to my bus without apologizing and thanking her. I did end up losing my pocket notebook today, which the beers I picked up at the 7-11 are helping me to ease over. I had just put some great James Baldwin and Sherman Alexie quotes in there, so I'm still upset at losing it. I'm doing too many stupid things here, sober or drunk, for my liking. I'm frustrated with myself.

Tomorrow I'm either off for Khao Yai National Park in Thailand, a massive, well-preserved monsoon forest to do some hiking, animal-watching, maybe camping, or, if the land crossing from there to Cambodia is too unreliable (both countries are still having a stand-off in Northern Cambodia, now over 3 weeks) from Thailand, I'm flying off to Phnom Penh. I'm staying clear of the hookers (bountiful over there, from what I've read) and heading straight to the firing range! I checked my bank account yesterday and I'm loaded so I maybe chucking a grenade and firing a rocket launcher or two in a few days. Too bad I can't document it with my voice recorder. This world we've crafted is sheer madness and I want to cautiously embrace that (seems like those most human experience, really), while we're still here. I really don't think we have long.

Before I left, I was at Dolores Park and absolutely marvelled at how bees inherently know that they must fly from flower to flower, to pollinate them. This, in turn, is a piece of a process that other beings depend on. Every thing in this world has a given purpose, thus, we're all inherently connected. In those terms, I can't help but see brief glimpses of our collective history (because I'm not a historian, so I know my perspective is limited), how we're acting now and not think that humans came about to destroy, ourselves and everything around us. Because of that, this world is too sad and beautiful for me sometimes. Sometimes I look out into these beautiful sunsets, to these beautiful worlds beneath the ocean's surface, and think, okay, I've had enough. This should be enough. I've been blessed, too, too blessed, but it's only going to get worse from here, and part of me wants to go out and remember this world when there was still hope that we'd come to our senses and change...