Traveling the World

The van with the other people arrived to collect us and transfer us to the port, where the massive boat was waiting for us. There were Germans, Americans, Chinese, Russians, and French people on the boat. We were given instructions on how to scuba dive. This lasted 15 minutes, and at the end, we were given scuba diving gear to put on. While I was listening about safety, I was also preoccupied with taking pictures using the underwater camera I rented from them.

During the 45 minute trip to the island, we faced a beautiful blue sky, a perfect breeze, and amazing views which I captured in full detail on the camera. We weighed anchor and people started diving. Lily and I were among the last to go because we had never dived before.

Wet suit, check. Mask is tight, check. Breathing apparatus clear, check. Flippers looking sexy, check. Hold mask and apparatus, put one foot out, and walk off the boat. Splash. Underwater, then resurface. Someone is pulling me and telling me to kick my feet. It took a few minutes to get used to the idea of not being allowed to breath through my nose while kicking my feet and equaling the pressure in my ears while taking pictures and enjoying the experience!

The visibility was amazing, and as I swam around I forgot all about everything else in the world. All that mattered was how beautiful the world was underneath all the bullshit politics, relationships, work, war, and everything else that weighs down our hearts, troubles our souls, and stresses our minds. I saw schools of fish big and small, colorful and beautiful. Some were nibbling on the coral and others just swam around. I saw jellyfish and sea grass and a wide array of other things. Everything moved to it’s own rhythm, but it still felt like as a whole it ebbed and flowed in perfect harmony.

My dive instructor moved me to where Lily was and I saw she was freaking out but in just as much awe as me. She hasn’t seen an ocean in 8 years, and can’t even swim. When she realized it was me tapping her on the shoulder instead of baby shark looking for it’s next meal, she grabbed my arm and wouldn’t let go no matter how hard I tried to escape her grasp. The instructors took pictures of us and finally I was released from the jaws of the shark unwilling to let me go. When freedom was attained, I kicked my feet as fast as possible and continued my solo journey looking down on my brethren.

When you are underwater, you lose track of time and space, which at first is disconcerting, and then blissful. My thirty minutes being up, I had to resurface and simultaneously rejoin the hectic world around me which was so full of noise. I shed my protective outer layer and returned to my human form. Baguettes with butter, sliced tomatoes, sliced cucumbers, and coffee were a few feet away from the ladder, and I tucked into them. Damn were they delicious!

We returned to shore, bused back to the dive center, got my pictures permanently etched into my mind and a CD for safekeeping, and went to lunch with two new friends: a German and an American. We had seafood, and a lot of it. Sadly, my stomach didn’t agree with some of it and I had to dash to the bathroom several times.

After my stomach was feeling better, the four of us grabbed Indian food and met up with Anta, Bobo, and Pepe. We went to a bar with a pool table and I wrecked the competition, who were stupid Frenchmen who didn’t know the rules. By 1:30am, the place had cleared out and we left. It was my intent to buy Pat the American a drink, but he told me to buy it on the street so it would be cheaper. We found an old woman selling beer and food from a cart. She had tables and chairs set up, so we sat down. As they drank, more people passed by and joined our foreigner party: A Canadian, An Australian, A Brit, and 2 Italians.

I planned to go back to the hotel to sleep after Pat finished his second beer, bit being drunk made everyone order more, which meant going back so “early” would mean I would miss out on the stereotypical banter our peoples always exchange when socializing. I did my impression of Aussies, Frenchies, and Italians to much accord. The Aussie bashed derelict Australians as well as Brits and Americans. We all bashed Pat in good fun, because no matter how many countries he has been to, he’s still very much a typical loudmouthed American who doesn’t think before he speaks, even at the age of 37.

This photo was taken on a tiny beach in the southern Thai area of Ao Nang, near Krabi town. You can see the boats moving with the waves as their owners are behind me taking a break from work to enjoy a nice meal. During the day, they act as flat-fee taxis, bringing people from one tiny beach to another upon request. It doesn’t pay well, but if you can pack people onto your longboat, you could earn probably $20 usd a day.

That is what life in southern Thailand is like: slow and poor. You make all your money when the tourists come around, and survive on that until the next season. They don’t show signs of weariness, as their work isn’t so hard or complicated. I think they might just enjoy that kind of life.