when the music's over

In Koh Tao, the island that I now find myself on, most, if not all of the Internet joints charge 2 bahts per minute, so this blog will have to suffer for it until I get back on the mainland.

This island, like Koh Pha-Ngan, is achingly, achingly beautiful. The only way to really get around the entire island is by scooter (taxis suck shit here because they usually just drop you off at certain points, not specific ones) or if you're a poodle-walking, rich tourist and want to show it, an APV. Riding around on the island today from the port to Haad Sairi, the gorgeous beach I'm staying at, I felt like getting one and just riding around to explore every nook, every vista from this island. If it weren't for the damn mosquitos (one nearly bit me on my left buttock! I'm getting tagged everywhere.) I could really like it here. I'm constantly impressed by how warm the Thais can be.

I've been here in Thailand for a little over a week, but at times it feels like it's been longer. Hearing the locals converse in a language I haven't a clue about, getting stared at everywhere I go (less so here than Bangkok or Surat Thani, since there are so many tourists here), and having people pitch their restaurants or pancakes or taxis has become a normal soundtrack by now, almost as if this is how life always is. It will be strange when I get back to the States and hear people converse in English again.

Now that I'm only hanging out with Wyn (mispelled his name previously), who I spent far less time with than Matt, I'm retreating into myself again, now finally able to have the time (well, make the time) and space to reflect on everything I've seen and done the past five days. My wrist will be hurting from writing in my journal by the end of tonight. Today was my first day I really, really missed my iPod, and consequently felt stupid about the actions I did to fry it. I don't have any means to drown out my silence, others, and most especially my thoughts without it. I've been feeling out of balance lately from all the dancing and partying I've done, and it's times like this when my music really centers me. Music will always be like oxygen to me. I already feel at a loss here, at times overwhelmed with this reality I've never seen (traveling, at times, is like constantly dreaming to me), and even more so now without my music. On the other hand, I'm devouring the books I've brought (reading Sherman Alexie's "Reservation Blues" which has, at times, exploded my mind and the way I see things here) but the bus rides to and through Cambodia are going to be rough without my lil' partner. When I get home, I'd ideally like to go hole myself up in my room and just blast my tunes for an entire evening. I don't think I'll feel quite right until then.