Khao Yai National Park

Day 22

Large Sambar Deer roamed the campsite. Liz and I hitchhiked to the park entrance so we could rent a motorbike just outside the gates. We biked to a scenic overlook. Took pictures. The male sambar deer reminded me of American elk, with elk size antlers. There are market stalls dropped next to a cafeteria of tables and chairs as if by crane from a city center. The uniformity of food service differs only in form from the United States. In the US there would be fast food as if dropped by crane from a city center. Here it is market stalls.

A trail head starts next to the cafeteria. We set out on a jungle hike, supposedly 5km. I say supposedly because scale and distance sometimes doesn’t mean (on the maps) what one might think it means. We saw giant trees but not a lot of fauna. We were lucky to see one of these giant trees playing host to a nest of giant hornet/wasp/bees. Just as a sign had said, a short distance ago. That sign wasn’t lying; I say that because sometimes signs do. Unfortunately, the trail seemed to run a gauntlet. Right past the hornet/wasp/bee nest. Liz remarked on a newly worn side path, “oh let’s go this way,” to empty air. For I was already hurtling through the buzzing air next to the angry swarming nest, and could not hear her. Adrenaline stepped off the neuron train before pain. When pain arrived at the station four seconds later, I was already 40 yards down the trail. Well, I had definitely been stung. Why the air still buzzed, I wasn’t sure. Out of breath, another pain shot out. I was now in pieces. My pupils dilated. My arms flailed. Out of the chaos falls a hornet/wasp/bee. From inside my shirt-sleeve. Much stomping of the feet. A general, murderous dance was directed at the wayward source-of-my-pain. Throbbing, stabbing aches rhythmically shot through the sting sites. Each pulsation a reckless confirmation of stupidity in action. Jungle floor decomposition fomented lamentation. Time folded and shortened. Jungle gave way to Thai Savannah. A wall of unimpeded sunshine replaced wayward rays. Tall grass sashayed with unity unmatched, its partner unseen. The heat hit as quickly as it was swept away by the swift lover of the grasses. Antlers dropped into the grass and rose again. As we ascended the hill top, antlers revealed their owner. Twelve hands of Sambar Deer fell away below those very elk-like antlers. Memories flooded my synapses. Dendrites tickled with calculations of distance, safety, a standing shot, and tales told within the circumference of a wood stove’s heat. Two stories of wildlife viewing tower stand ahead of us. Looking out over the newly afforded 360 degrees we see the shining reflection of the coming sunset on the calm surfaced watering hole in one direction. The grassland we passed through took on red, yellow, and orange hues in the other direction. We sat. Still and silent. A tiny wake appeared behind a tubular constrictor swimming along shore. Whispered excitement. Pointed fingers. In straight line formation, Great Hornbills cut through the sunset air over the lake. Three flaps and a glide. Consistent. Darkness ushers us out of the tall theater. A trail flyover of two large hornbills sent us on our way. Our two wheeled, open-air chariot whisked us back to a surprising site. The previously empty, silent campsite was filled with side-to-side tents. The song of the crowd hit our ears. Bangkok empties into Khao Yai National Park on Saturday nights during the cool, dry winter months. Take heed.

Khao Yai or Bust

Day 21

Got a late start out to the Mo Chit Bus Station. We are on our way to Khao Yai National Park. It only took us until the third taxi to get one to run the meter. The drivers who accept the system and happily meter tend to be friendly. Bus stations here have been easy for us. In the USA, bus stations are chaos without considering the opium den atmosphere. We got out of our taxi and a uniformed station employee asked us where we were going. She pointed us to the proper floor. There were three floors to choose from. We crested the stairs and were immediately asisted in finding a ticket window. Next step: getting to the bus. We followed behind yet another bus station employee. I wondered if all this assistance was due to us being foreigners. That, plus the constant perplexity plastered on our faces.

The bus ride allowed excitement to build. Our first National Park in Thailand! Our bus dropped us off in the town of Pak Chong. Here’s where the vagaries began; the line where planning and knowledge ended. We wandered. We asked. People pointed, mostly directional, not at anything in particular. After some searching we found the bus that would take us to Khao Yai National Park. Packed full of kids returning home after their school day in town. It was now 5:00 PM. We were planning on renting a tent and camping tonight. Thankfully it was Friday and not Saturday; Bangkok empties out into Khao Yai on Saturdays. Anyway, time was running out. The sun was on it’s way to setting. Our bus dropped us a short walk away from the Park gate. The visitor’s center is 17km from the front gate. We asked the gate keeper if there were buses up to the center. He said our best bet at this hour was to hitch-hike. We had not hitch-hiked yet in Thailand but someone had recently told us that hailing a passing car is not done the way it is done in America. You do not hold out a thumbs up, you flap your hand up and down with your fingers out-stretched and your palm facing down. This is a common Thai gesture meaning, “come here.” We were not walking long when a couple driving a pick-up truck pulled over. We hopped in the truck bed and off we went.

The sun set as we bounced down the road. From the back of the truck, the twilight jungle whisked past. A great hornbill flew over the truck, startling us with its massive wingspan and sudden appearance. As the driver switched on the headlights, I immediately started laughing. So much was still up in the air. We needed a tent, a campsite, food! We hadn’t eaten since breakfast. As long as we were alive and together we would be fine. That realization banished all anxiety. I reveled in the wind rushing over the cab. Slipping into a moment knows no equal feeling. Obscure moments. Fresh moments. Every moment holds elements. The moment the lights went out in the sky and the lights came on in the truck. Riding in the unknown, not into but in already. I have come to respect and adore the occasional complete lack of preparation in travel. Arriving at the visitor’s center, we were informed that the campsite is 7 km farther on. Back to the road, into the back of a another truck. We had a map and knew the next turn would be a left one, the truck turned right. My chest was instantly too small for my heart. Sweat beaded on my brow in the cool air. Before exiting the park we expressed our panic to the teenage hitcher next to us. He glanced at our map and leaned over the cab and communicated the need to turn around. The imagined danger borne of anxiety left me. Once again I knew we would be fine; not before noting how quickly reckless abandon can go from bubbly laughter to sweaty palms. We set off at a brisk walk for the turn we knew we had to take. At this point we are surrounded by pitch blackness and the sounds of a jungle at night. The headlamp was summoned and we steeled ourselves for a creepy walk in the dark. Two Thai guys that looked our age pulled up and offered a ride in the back of their truck. We knew the drill by now. We pulled up to the park police station, very near to where we were picked up, they stopped the car. The passenger walked back to us and asked, “polit, polit, yes?” We had never told them where we were going. Liz and I blurted out at the same time the name of our camp area, “ohhhh sorry, ‘Lam Thakong?’” They responded, in Thai, with what I assumed was, “why didn’t you say so?” (accompanied by laughter). They were actually going there as well.

We easily rented a tent, sleeping bag (for me), and sleeping pad (also for me). The process felt more loosey goosey than US National Parks, especially when we asked where the campsites were. The park official patiently told us there are no campsites and to camp wherever we would like within the camp area. It was at this time that our hunger levels decided it was time to be addressed. We found dinner in the form of noodle cups and chips. We dined with two older Thai men and a Thai woman. None of them spoke English well but after a while we realized that they understand the language better than they may have been letting on. Despite communication difficulties, they told us stories about the park. I gathered that one of the guys fell of his motorbike once and fell directly onto a porcupine. I think. This interpretation was backed up when he brought out two porcupine quills.

Learning What They Want Me to Learn!

Day 20

Bangkok has sapped energy. Empathy followed energy to the wings. Grappling for fair tuk tuk prices no longer holds novelty. The lack of conversation and understanding placed a blanket of distrust over monetary interactions. I hated having to be suspicious of everyone hawking wares and transportations.

Randomly saw our Canadian friends, Alex and Vanessa, down at the tourist side streets today. I’m glad our meeting was serendipitous. I didn’t really want to reach out. I’m not very good at putting myself out there in such fleeting circumstances. Especially when there are good books to read. They are going to watch a Muay Thai fight. The Golden Mound, occasionally misrepresented as the Golden Mountain (definitely more of a mound), is a Buddhist temple not far from Bangkok’s tourist district. On our walk to the mound we passed a hip height, wrought iron gate blocking off an alley which lead to a canal. The alley itself wasn’t interesting, but what was in it, was. Two massive, water monitor lizards were canoodling in the alley. If I had laid down on the ground next to one of the lizards it probably would have bitten me. It would have also been about as long as I am tall. Our stares unnerved them and they split off into the alley’s bushes.

This morning we went to the National History Museum. Right next to the National Theatre, which is technically part of the National University. I had no idea previous Kings of Thailand had been so victorious in battle or that Thai people might be genetically unique to other humans. Thanks National Museum! It was nice to get a curated, nationalistic look at the anthropological and governmental history of Thailand. As we left the museum, our legs grew heavy from the museum lead we had picked up from spending too much time standing and looking. The novel element museum lead is rarely identified as such. Let me enlighten you: Museum lead gets in your eyes and makes you spacey and sleepy. It then travels through the body. Naturally pulled by gravity, the heavy metal comes to rest in the legs. This makes it exhausting to walk normally. Two treatments exist: an extended nap or vigrous exercise. We walked through door number one and into a drooling slumber. Museum lead secretes from the body in the form of nap-drool. A drool-some sleep is a powerful sleep.

In waking, I began reading Terry Pratchett’s, Strata. The first published novel pertaining to his intricate Discworld series. It was some of the best writing I have ever encountered. I finished the book in about 4 hours. The book was written in the 1970’s. I have so much catching up to do. There are a lot of books I have not read. This is the opposite of a problem.

I talked about writing with Liz. I mentioned the ever present, tiny creatures I see soaring on thermals out near my ears. Flight is possible for these creatures for their bones are made from doubtanium. Paper thin but stubbornly strong. She told me to ignore their infinite cackling. Their vulturistic tendency to feed on the mere thought of failure makes them formidable imaginings. When I sit down to write they perch neatly on a shoulder or a nearby shelf, but my fingers touch keyboard and they leave me alone. Immersion without thought kills the creatures. Or maybe they just flew off…

Addition over Subtraction

Day 19

I felt a crescendo of restless energy buzzing through me today. I needed to channel that energy into the present situation I was in. I kept channeling it into this anxiety I have about not doing the most awesome thing, which of course never happens to be what I’m currently doing. That might mean running off into the city, divert power from the brain and into the legs. I realize now that I was struggling to embrace an unfamiliar setting. I dealt with that struggle by belittling it. Then I blamed myself, Liz, and the place itself for putting us in such a/an [insert negative descriptors here] situation. I was able to overcome this feeling to enjoy the vast majority of the trip but it colored gray far more of my time there than I would have liked. Maybe that’s just the way it is

I’ve been doing my best to type this honestly, from my journal. Although, it’s hard to decide whether I’m editing something out to make it more enjoyably readable (grammatically) or because it makes me cringe but would actually be interesting, in a worst-definition-of-juicy way. I have to describe the negatives and the positives, not the resulting difference. There is no context, or reality. In subtraction.

Anyway, we got Thai massages today. Those massages are magical. They cast spells on you. I saw a cauldron in the back room. I came out feeling much better. Then we went and got our fancy clothes fitted. I will finally have a suit that fits like sweat on a hot day. And Liz’s cashmere/wool coat is cashmere/wool.

Asking the tuk tuk drivers how much they charge before going somewhere is a bottomless pit of hilarity. One driver threw out 600baht. That’s more than a room for a night ever cost us. Price gouging my eyes out. The best alternative would be the buses, but we don’t know the routes. So, taxis are cheapest, when the meter is running that is. We got snacks, drank beers and played cribbage; it was glorious. Later that night, or earlier, (my journal is not exactly chock full of continuity) we went to a couch-surfing meet up and hung out with some other travelers and people living in Bangkok full time.

Surprised? You Shouldn’t Be.

Day 18

Woke with a sure plan to see the Grand Palace. Oh before that. The manager of our guesthouse, picture the land lady from kung fu hustle, roughly tossed us at an American man possessing of indeterminate old age and long beard. Her idea was, “you’re both Americans, you probably grew up in the same town.” Not surprisingly, he was less than thrilled with the sudden social pressure reserved for holding the hand of an unfamiliar child. We just wanted to know where to get breakfast, not adopt a new grandfather. He suggested a stall restaurant down the street which we went to. We awkwardly saw him there like 10 minutes later. Didn’t talk to him.

There is a river running through the center of Bangkok. Chao Phraya, is the name. Bangkok treats its river like a highway, only you can dump refuse on the permeable black top which swallows it magically; clap the dust off your hands, it’s taken care of. As for it being a highway, there are water taxis, water buses, and normal barges. We hopped a water taxi, the orange line, to the pier right next to the Grand Palace. Stalls choke the exit from the pier. As we looked for a map a policeman walked up to us. A well dressed man with a hat that said, “police,” anyway. He was very helpful in telling us that we can’t go to the palace wearing shorts or a sun dress. My sun dress billowed indignantly. He grabbed our map and ripped it to pieces while unintelligibly yelling at the top of his lungs. Just kidding. He called over a tuk-tuk driver and showed him where to take us. So, we hopped in the friendly driver’s tuk-tuk and were noisily off to sights more tolerant of skin-flashing barbarians.

First stop, Wat Indrawihan. Or, as everyone called it: The Big Buddha. Oh it was big. But, honestly, it could have been bigger. Seriously, much bigger. Once you have a thought like that it just doesn’t leave you alone. This wat was worth every penny; it was free. Our delightful driver was patiently reclined in his tuk tuk on our return. We crunched into the cramped back seat. We were transported to the Tourism Authority of Thailand (TAT). Once shuttled inside, a fast talking Thai man from Texas quickly put together a plan for our remaining time in Thailand. “Do this! Oh yeah, you should stay a couple days here! Definitely check this out! No, no, no, never mind that won’t work….etc” We didnt’ have the heart to tell him that we had plans of our own. So, we took a quote for all the logistics and left with promises to return. We didn’t return. He was not receptive to our own thoughts about our trip and clearly had a preordained tourist trip he markets to everyone. Hiring this tuk tuk for the day only cost 30 baht. We soon realized why. He is sponsored by two tailors. Part of, nay the reason for, his sponsorship is that he asks us to spend 5 minutes looking around the shops. We didn’t mind, he was so courteous and friendly we wanted to help him out however we could. The first place, was lethargic and plush. It was clear from the start that the employees hate the ones that come in for 5 minutes then leave. We left with a bad taste in our mouths; not excited for the next set of bored sales people to half-heartedly try and sell us finery. I had made the decision to buy a three piece suit before we arrived at this shop, on one condition: the people working there treat me like a legitimate customer. We get fitted tomorrow at 4:00 pm.

Then we got dropped at Wat Pho. A man outside the gate to the Wat offered a giant python to a group of tourists near the gate and none of them accepted it onto their shoulders. I was offended that none of them would jump at the chance to have something that large and life-threatening around their necks. There was no way in hell that snake wasn’t going on my shoulders. The enormous snake inched its way around my body. Every movement, every shiver, elicited a shockwave of muscular response in the body of the python. The sensory relay of muscle to brain was noticeable as the snake sized me up. It was exhilarating. Well worth the 100b which hopefully goes towards buying the snake proper food. Unfortunately, I didn’t ask the guy about his snake care. I realize, [(now)], as I am evaluating my trip day to day: I should have asked more questions.

Wat Pho was thailand’s 1^st public university. The university consisted of engraved tablets laid in the walls. The tablets describe trade skills, art, medicine, political science, poetry, and literature. Notice I used the present-tense, “describe,” that’s because a large quantity of them are still there or have been restored. How awesome is that!? I was floored when I realized we were in such an early example of truly public education; which was really a library. An open-book library. I had no idea coming to the Wat that it was the first public university, no idea that it was going to be that cool. Libraries and reading are how I learned a great many things. Reading has molded and shaped me into the person I am today. Books put me in the shoes of others, let me ride shotgun in the adventures of others, and nurtured an always growing imagination.

That night we tried to take a tuk tuk to chinatown; they wanted to charge 200baht for a 75baht drive. We laughed in their faces and they in ours. Don’t look up the currency exchange because that would make us look like assholes. You looked it up didn’t you? In that case, let me explain. We stopped converting everything in our heads in order to effectively barter. If everything is super cheap: why not go for that pricey hotel, buy those shoes, order tricky cocktails every night, and generally go bananas? Because you will run out of money and you won’t realize it’s happening. Conversely, there’s no reason not to pinch pennies so we just tried to do that whenever we could. This seems to be the attitude of tuk tuk drivers, ‘you’re outraged by our prices? Go find a metered taxi, some other tourist will pay this price.’ They are absolutely right, so we found a metered taxi.

Chinatown here was amazing. The lonely planet completely undersold it. Stalls everywhere with all sorts of goods. All of thailand’s many fruits can be found in chinatown. We still haven’t tried durian fruit or “stink fruit” as it smells awful but apparently tastes good. I wonder who discovered that. We happily walked and snacked. Everyone was genuinely kind. People helped us order. Thailand being a Buddhist country, coupled with everything I had heard about Thai people, gave me the false idea that all Thais would be fair, helpful, and friendly. Not that people are rude or angry but sometimes they were. The ratio just happens to be the same as everywhere else. When viewing my experience objectively, I am once again humbled by the folly of my preconceived notions.

Bustling. Bronchial. Bereaved. Bangkok.

Day 17

Left island life behind today. Next stop: lots of little stops, then Bangkok. National Library fever. We are going to be staying on the same block as the National Library. A lot of my hopes and dreams are floating on this Library being cool. I fully expect a map room. Hopefully there are scrolls. In all seriousness, I hope to clear up the fog that is my knowledge of Thai History. By talking to someone most likely, I’m not disillusioned enough to think they will have books in English. I do assume, however, that libraries attract the multilingual. Libraries say a lot about a city. How they’re treated speaks to the respect of history. History repreats, parallels, perpendicts, provokes itself. Especially when ignored, or worse. Worse being: burned, molded, changed (attempts at change anyway), or spited. History sucks. It doesn’t care much for us in the present. But, if we don’t care for it, it can be a right proper bastard.

I started reading Joe Simpson’s harrowing account of his and Simon Yates’s near-death first ascent of the Siula Grande’s West Face. In the Peruvian Andes. I started this book before our six hour bus ride to Bangkok. I finished five hours later. Joe Simpson put me right there with him and Simon for their victory on the summit. Followed quickly by crushing defeats. The undulating account was as inspiring as it was hair-raising and emotional. The book is called, “Touching the Void,” and starts with this quote from “the seven pillars of wisdom,” by T.E. Lawrence, “All men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dreams with open eyes, to make it possible.” That quote is why I bought the book from a tiny bookstore cafe on Koh Chang. The bus ride was one enthralling book plus an hour and a half.

We are spit out of the bus under towering malls and shops. Hopping the sky train we arrived in Siam Square. Not even a train in the sky could bear us away from the prison of malls. A nice woman on thie sidewalk struck up a conversation with us. She asked if we were leaving, on account of our backpacks. We said arriving and asked if we could find a guesthouse nearby. She mentioned Khao San Road as our only option. A pushy motor-bike taxi tried to scam us. I hadn’t really eaten in around 12 hours so I was prepared to accept. Liz had had a bag of chips for lunch; she didn’t fold so easily and held her ground. We eventually caught a taxi. He even ran the meter. We decided to head to Thewet, a neighborhood just north of Khao San Road. There were ample guesthouses to choose from. Dinner would have been delicious even if it hadn’t been fried rice noodles with vegetables and mushrooms (already delicious without hunger’s spice). The howling void would have gladly accepted old ham and soggy lettuce on burnt toast. My hunger was not discriminatory. Not tonight.

I had expected the second hand smoke that is Bangkok. I knew we would be shoved, scammed, carpet-bagged, and scalawagged. What I truly, blindly, stupidly didn’t see coming, was normal people living normal lives. This was happening literally everywhere we went. Liz and I walked the block after dinner, we were disappointed to find no children for sale and most of the shops closed. Only a gaggle of middle schoolers furiously smoking cigarettes remained on our street.

Broke Toe Trekking

Day 16

Our slotted activity for the day, put on by the old folks home we are staying in, was a trek to the second highest point (not peak) on Koh Chang. People think Americans act exactly the way this Danish couple acted. Not unfunny, just loud and crass. Full of a belief in the virtue of their jokes. The couple took off halfway through the hike to go ride elephants. Relieving us of their antics. They were actually really nice. When groups of silence-preferring individuals get together, silence prevails. The atmosphere changes not at all. To grate the chalk of loud conversation on the blackboard of silent reflection elicits winces. Barring that “serenity” shattering barrage, none of the strangers feel compelled to peel into the layers of each others’ personalities. So, in hindsight, I wish we had had more time with the loudness and crassitude of the Danish couple.

The hike was super straight forward. We were but tiny boats caught in the crests and troughs of geologic time. Upon reaching the summit, 355 degree views for everyone. Our guide led us out to a precipitous outcropping. A window through which the distant ocean blue leans against a buffer zone of taupe beaches before giving way to intense jungle greens. Our guide was lassez-faire; evidenced by his suggestion to climb the outcropping overlooking our deaths, were we to fall.

After lunch, we placed our feet in previous prints, anew. Up. Down. Boredom set in. The jungle, this jungle of prior deforestation’s slow recovery holds very little excitement. Tiny boats (again, I know, but today we were constantly tiny boats) on a thin, brown swell of a trail in the sea of green. As I was walking on an obviously dead log over some obviously sharp rocks, the log snapped. I landed and balanced on the little toe of my left foot. This toe, not being used to holding all of my body weight, broke from the effort. Luckily for broken toes everywhere, they don’t hurt that bad. Also, I could walk on it without a limp. Shortly after breaking my toe we arrived at a waterfall which towered over a wide pool of it’s own creation. We swam in the icy waters. I considered this the closest I would be able to get to icing my toe in Thailand. I quite enjoy the dull throbbing ache of a broken toe. Not an impediment to action, more a reminder. It reminds me that I am indeed alive. That reminder pushes me not to waste the feeling. Someday I won’t be able to feel the throb of a broken toe, even if all my toes are broken. Because someday, someday I’ll be dead.

More uplifting blog posts coming right up, stick around! WHIZZ! BANG! FIZZ! POP!

Three Island Challenge

Day 15

Magnetic sheets held me fast. I wanted to wake up and workout and other things. It all felt like too much. The gravitational pull of what I choose to call laziness. The inevitable awakening occurred. We set our sights on the island pocked Gulf of Thailand. Our sleek steed awaited. We climbed into the two holes on its back. One in front of the other. Stretched our legs into the hard, rubbery body cavity. Picked up the long arms, with their double-sided, water-displacing ends to carve figure eights in the air and surf.

The plan was to paddle to the three lumps on the horizon. Islands which Matt had told us were previously visited by three Swedes. In the double kayak. On Christmas Eve. So we knew it could be done. So much so that we didn’t pack anything for lunch. With success guaranteed*, I self-sabotage. Intent on increasing the level of discomfort, thus excitement. On that note, we shoved off into the surf.

Every stroke presented an opportunity for evaluation and improvement. The elbow angles effects on pectoral strain. Full body use. Muscle isolation avoidance. Self-evaluation as meditation. The gratification of successfully improved efficiency. Well, that’s what was in my brain. Also, the never-ending volley of inner though tennis. Of course, we obviously didn’t plan for this excursion. No lunch, no water. It wasn’t the smartest thing but it didn’t need to be. With the confidence in each other paired with a massive lack in danger, if something actually did go wrong it wouldn’t be fixed by having  a lunch on hand. Sweating in the sun called for snorkeling. The water was clear enough to make snorkeling simply a way of zooming in on what we could already see perfectly clearly from the kayak. Like putting on a much needed pair of glasses. We normalized the snorkeling experience and decided it was time to move on.

“Moving on,” involved us circumnavigating those three islands. Liz mistakenly expressed a slight fear of sharks in large bodies of salty water. I’m incapable of letting knowledge like that slide into disuse and encourage its slide into misuse. It was a hot and sunny day. Liz jumped into the water to cool off. I figured this would be a good time to test that fear. A quick succession of paddle strokes bore me farther and farther from her. And her from the relative safety of the kayak. Although, a full size great white shark would cleave through the hull in short order. We all know that the relation of isolation, in large salty bodies of water, to the number of nearby blood-thirsty sharks is positively-correlated. She tired out from the initial panic. She yelled unrepeatable things at me. She laughed. Her fear of sharks being closely related to the life or death fear reserved for those last couple steps up to the basement door after turning out the light. But if you stand on the steps in the dark, and listen to your beating heart, you can hear the fact that there are not unimaginable monsters lurking. Unless there are, and in that case, you didn’t stand a chance either way.

SCUBA Diving and the Cardiac Challenge

Day 14

Completed the Cardiac Challenge this morning. That being the name Matt gives his daily steep jungle run. Running on sand felt great on my legs and didn’t bother my IT band like roads have been. The uneven terrain flexed and stretched muscles and tendons in a much needed way. Beach gave way to road. the road immediately took on a steep grade. We stopped halfway up to do three sets of old school calisthenics (push-ups, squats, that sort of thing). From there I was told by Matt to run the rest of the way to the top as he was going to walk it. I set off, but the hill had other ideas. Untrained muscles and technique failure mixed into a volatile reaction. My calves waved signs and marched against the unfair treatment. In response to the calf strike, my posture threw in the towel as well. The civil disobedience ground me to a slow walk. Matt saw me slow and yelled encouragement. The kind words were a Christmas bonus to my aching body. The pace was picked up and dusted off all the way to the top of the hill. Matt caught up and congratulated me. I thanked him for the bail out encouragement. We ran together down the hill. Liz and I ate a small breakfast of eggs and toast prepared by the Paradise Palms Chef Extraordinaire, Matt’s Wife.

Our ride to the pier bounced all the way to the other side of the Island, on pot-holes occasionally interrupted by jungle road. The boat launched off of a long white-washed wooden pier. The pier was recently built up to contain a crowding of shops and restaurants on either side of the narrow walkway. The smell of fresh seafood accompanied our fittings for fins, masks, buoyancy compensator vests, and wet-suits. My memory’s abilities were questioned as we strolled to the dive boat. The unimpeded rays of sunlight eased my nerves. The boat was a big orange, two storied monster with other divers already milling around on deck. Once our equipment was stowed on the main deck we made our way to the top deck for a general overview of the boat and dive locations. We met our Cambodian guide, Pirom Proueng, to go over the plan for our initial dive. Multiple dives in a day are ordered with the deepest dive first, getting progressively shallower. The sought after wreck of the HTMS Chang being our first dive, with a depth of 28 meters (74 feet). This would be the deepest Liz has dove.

Diving again felt fantastic. I remembered diving being serenely quiet save for the whoosh of inhalation and the steady blub of bubbles on the exhale. Diving here, in the Gulf of Thailand, seemed louder for some reason. I was expecting a return to the vivid serenity of past dives. We remember the best bits of excellent experiences. I remember closing my eyes in the muck of a water hazard to the sounds of silence. I tend to forget the panic which flowed through my veins during most of my rescue diving training. Anyway, multiple schools of multiple fish species call the wreck home. The giant spheres of fish moved in unison. Picture a bat fish. That’s what bat fish are. We saw a lot of those strange creatures as we moved through the hold of the sunken ship and into the bridge. The steady feedback of sound accompanying each breath was metronomic. The mechanical regularity eased me into a state of calm observance of the watery world around me.

Liz was not dangerously low on air but was below our agreed upon limit near the end of the dive. We were already halfway through our safety stop and therefore extremely close to finishing the dive. Our guide, having a lot of air left, pulled around his “octopus” (extra) regulator. Liz removed her regulator and replaced it with his offered octopus regulator to breath together on his tank. The process of octopus breathing can confuse both the diver and the guide, it also drains the tank double time. Generally, octopus breathing is reserved for emergencies. We were very close to being able to safely surface. It wasn’t unsafe and it worked out. I wouldn’t have done it in that situation though.

Liz and I talked about eating meat after a lunch of pork, veggies, and rice. We constantly slip into the same conversation about once a month. Can we justify eating meat when we don’t physically or economically have to? As individuals, not governments. We usually decide that eating meat we consider sustainable is justified. We also don’t worry about our meaty mistakes when we don’t follow that doctrine to the letter. Because doctrines are dumb.

Jellyfish and a Light Dinner

Day 13

Woke early with intent to run. I remembered Matt saying he would run every morning. Joining him was my goal. I had forgotten something he had told me yesterday: he would be on the mainland this morning renewing his daughter’s passport. So I waited for some time for him to come outside and when he didn’t I did a short workout. Sweated my memory into working. Remembered. Decided running was overrated, got back into bed.

Motorbiked into the risen sun and a search for breakfast foods. It can be hard to find reasonably priced Western breakfast in Thailand. Breakfast being one of the few Western things we sought, we sought it hard. Our halt occurred at a place called Thor’s, right off the beach. Standard fried eggs and toast are elevated to a level beyond the ordinary when in short supply. I went over SCUBA diving basics with Liz over breakfast. We dive tomorrow. I’m nervous to live up to my minor. Truth is, It’s been so long since I’ve been diving. The ease with which all the SCUBA basics returned to the front lines from their respite in the green zone that is the back of my mind gave me comfort. Tomorrow holds promises. Expectations. Liz motored back from Thor’s, our breakfast spot. It is much more fun to drive the bike rather than ride the back.

We took our time getting in the water to snorkel right off the beach from our bungalow. There’s no sign of anxiety but on the slightest breath of wind blowing in from the mainland. Such a relaxed atmosphere lends itself to slowness. It being a rocky beach it has great snorkeling and clear water. Suburbs of coral rest under the canopy of waving, tall ocean grasses. These rural suburbs supplant themselves close to shore a healthy distance from the otherwise barren sandy environment farther into the deep. A theme developed for our swims in the Gulf as we both got stung by jellyfish an hour into our snorkel. Books occupied our recovery. Five people came by to take out Matt’s kayaks. That was a lot. The majority of the kayakers were in it for the fishing. They had poles and vests and bait.

With all the restaurants being a motorbike away, we decided on beer for dinner tonight. We have a hard time motivating as far as finding food is concerned. Matt conversed with us about geology and adventure. Talked about how we were raised so as to seek adventure as endlessly as we do. Matt was interested in this point as he is raising a daughter, currently 14.

We put the day to bed with a lullaby in the form of the audiobook, The Wise Man’s Fear by Patrick Rothfuss. We’re almost finished!