Liz…By: Nick

DAY 11

Today, the plan was, to attempt a journal entry from Liz’s point of view. I tried but we were travelling and I encountered too many interesting things to focus solely on my guesses at Liz’s thoughts. We hurriedly packed everything this morning at 4:30. As we waited for our ride to the airport I (Liz) worried about the taxi being late to get us. A wave of relief passed over me (Liz) when our car pulled up. K was so awesome, I thought in the car; I loved getting to know her. We rode in silence albeit the ringing of caffeine withdrawals in my ears. Boy I could use some coffee. The airport was small and check in was easy despite having to pay to check our large backpack. As we walked into the terminal, I spotted a coffee kiost. I made a bee-line for it. Nick seemed hungry but he didn’t get anything from the kiosk. He seems a little hangry. Oh great, now he’s playing pokemon. Ha ha I’ll snapchat a picture of him and send it to everyone. That’ll be funny. As we exited the Don Meung Airport in Bangkok, we walked directly onto a bus to the Bangkok bus station. Nick and I had to sit apart. Gosh, he’s good looking. We almost got off at the wrong stop but were stopped by one of the bus drivers. She made sure we made it to the bus station. She was so friendly. She was the first to help us. As we exited the bus she vaguely motioned for us to walk down a dimly lit alleyway. This sure doesn’t look like a bus station, I (Liz) couldn’t help thinking. Our confusion was palpable. Within ten strides a woman approached us and asked if we needed help. She was wearing a bright red skirt, and a cute white blouse. She looked like she was shopping. We extolled our lost lamb-itude and she motioned for us to follow her. Our guide led us like pack horses. After showing us to a ticket window for buses to Trat, which is where we were going, poof! She was gone. In her place stood the driver of our bus. He took our reins and showed us where to buy food, then to the bus. Every once in a while our bus would stop as if winded. Like carrying passengers wasn’t what it was built to do. Not too long out of Bangkok, the bus stopped for one final breather. Instead of pushing onward, our bus collapsed in a heap. I don’t know what was wrong with it but either way our bus broke down. The bus gave up at a highway side restaurant. The food was hot pork soup, ordered for us by two kindly older ladies from the bus. They were on their way to a funeral in Trat. Our conversation with them was a bit of a friendly mess. Their English was a little hard to understand, but we managed. One of the women gave us her card for her jewelry business in Bangkok and said to call if we needed anything while there. We had been steeling ourselves for a potential night at the roadside when a replacement bus showed up rather quickly. The bus was totally full. Like peas in a sweltering pod. This was the first bus I had been on that didn’t have the A/C cranked to 11. 11 degrees Fahrenheit that is.

I sat next to an interesting man from California. We got to talking about his time in the peace corps in West Africa where he learned to speak French. He used his French to do work in West Africa and globally, mostly for non-profit organizations. He has friends who started an organization in East Africa to raise awareness for HIV. He worked on many projects after Africa. One project was taking emotionally disturbed youth boogy boarding off the coast of California. The kids loved it and so did the organization sending them; this caused the excursion to grow exponentially. He said they grew too fast and had to disband the outings due to the logistical nightmare. This was his way of cautioning against growing too fast, as we had already discussed my involvement in starting a non-profit organization. I told him stories from our paddle forward trips and my time pursuing a career in Law Enforcement. He was blown away by my experiences and took down our websites. After a stop I was able to sit next to Liz again and that man’s name frustratingly escapes me. A taxi took us from the Trat bus station to a pier. Supposedly we could catch a ferry from this pier to Koh (which means Island) Chang. It took us a considerable amount of time to figure out that it was the wrong pier. The taxi dropped us at one of the many run of the mill ‘travel agencies.’ These agencies’ sole purpose is generally to charge way more than necessary in a totally uncalled for, pushy way. We turned from the agency and were greeted by a street jam packed with food, clothing, and trinket stalls. We did a lap and were enthralled with what turned out to be a festival honoring the king of Thailand. It’s cool to be somewhere with a king. Storybook cool. I don’t know enough to say whether or not it’s real life cool too. (Now that future me has been to the Thai National History Museum I can say that, I’m still not sure). We were searching for the actual ferry when a young, teenage couple pointed us towards an older woman who was just closing up shop. She stayed open to help us. Turns out we needed to catch a ride to the actual ferry dock; we needed to wait for that ride. Even though she was about to close, she went back to a kitchen and made us pad thai with chicken and mango. Our driver arrived to take us to the ferry. She spoke English. As we waited for the ferry, the sun set a gorgeous orange-red fire in the sky. The ride over to Koh Chang was uneventful and dark. I couldn’t help but wonder whether I could swim to shore if the ferry happened to go down. I’m pretty sure I could have, but never needed to find out. Turns out Liz was thinking the same thing! We taxied our way to Paradise Palms, the resort we are staying in.

Last Day in Krabi Town

DAY 10

Ao Nang beach had an extremely low tide today. Way low. Silhouetted figures squat (presumably to look at things) out where the surf used to be (they might be pooping). We searched for a chocolate shake after walking the beach. Chocolate shakes are hard to find here. Eventually found some ice cream and a blender. After hand gestures and drawings we communicated the combination.

Met a man named Eros (air-rroash) in the lobby of our guesthouse. From Slovenia. Sandwiched between Italy and Switzerland. I have to note the country’s geographic location, as I couldn’t recall where it was when he asked. And, he seemed pretty smug about that. Went to get dinner with him at the night market. He talked a lot about Slovenia, which sounds like a lovely country. Eros told us about how a Pakistani immigrant lives with him and his wife. This man wakes up and takes hours longer than anyone else to do everything: make food, get places, sleep, etc. Eros couldn’t understand this lifestyle. ‘How can he not watch TV?’ Eros told us about how he made a joke to the Catholic Pakistani immigrant. The joke was about how the Catholic sacrament is a form of cannibalism. The Pakistani man did not understand the joke. Eros is 41 years old. When in Bangkok, he spent the night with a friend. He was kept awake by the noise of his friend throwing a party. He told us about how he was also kept awake by the incessant knocking on his door by three women trying to have sex with him. He’s married so naturally he refused. One of the women’s husbands was there. He wanted to split the money Eros would hypothetically pay his wife for sex. After dinner, Eros said he was going to buy a little whiskey to help him go straight to sleep because he was very tired.

We got to know K, the owner of K’s guesthouse where we were staying. She spoke English well. She was helpful, nay integral, in planning our Krabi adventures. K went to New Zealand and had a terrible experience. She rented a car which turned out to have bad brakes. She was driving a little crazily, because the brakes were only working when they felt like it. Someone called the police to say she was all over the road. So, she got pulled over. Her thought was to take off her seat belt and step out of the car to talk to the police man. She ended up with a ticket for not wearing her seat belt. At this point she was very distraught. She didn’t like the food much either, said there’s only so many times you can eat a burger in a week. K gave us both a big hug before we left.

Tiger Caves in the Haze

DAY 9

Visited a place called the Tiger Cave Temple. This place has that name because a well known tiger used to live in a cave on the premises. The roar of the tiger, boosted by cave-acoustics, could often be heard in the nearby village. Buddhist Monks live there now. Monkeys moved in after the tiger left, as well. Steep, tall steps end in a lookout. An ominous haze blotted out the horizon. Supposedly there is an ocean and islands beyond the haze. There were many bells to ring. I know almost nothing about Buddhism which leaves me with a lot of questions every time we visit a temple. Beyond the temple there are more caves and jungle trails. A Polish dad and son excitedly pointed out a monitor lizard to us. I traded in my David Sedaris book for “Norwegian Wood” by Haruki Murakami. Night seafood market. encouraged to sit and eat. that’s how they get you. Next to the estuary. Great place for people watching. A man from California asked how much we paid for our beer. He then went on to tell me that he has been here for a couple of days with his wife and moustache.