Day 12
Paradise Palms. That’s the name of the bungalow resort we are staying in. Matt, the owner showed us around the night we arrived. Being right on the water you might expect that we had issues with people crowding the beach but you would be wrong. It’s actually a rocky beach in between two rocky points jutting out into the Gulf of Thailand. So the area has a great secluded vibe about it. We were glad about that. None of our experiences with the tourist crowds have been pleasant. So it was great to get away from that without staying up in the mountains, or underground. And we’re not above staying underground. Matt’s interest in getting to know us was awesome. We would always end up talking to him for a couple of hours at least about all sorts of things. Diving on wrecks. Sunken treasure. Underwater archaeology. The Gulf of Thailand has a number of ship wrecks from ancient trade routes with China. More recently, in 1945, a US Balao-class submarine and a Japanese Destroyer were sunk in the Gulf. After talking some more, there was mention of an intentionally sunk US/Thai naval vessel called the HTMS Chang. It was sunk in 2012 to act as a dive attraction and artificial reef. Liz and I accosted Matt with questions on how we could get out there and dive on it. There are a number of dive shops which operate trips into the Gulf from Koh Chang. On Matt’s recommendation we booked a dive trip. Matt has also experienced more American states than I have. Considering I live in America I felt an immense fear of missing out hearing about his experience. Besides the obvious FOMO, his stories of the American Southwest and West coast sealed a pact with myself to travel in my own country.
Liz and I had never ridden a motorbike so Matt was apprehensive about renting us one. A Thai tattoo is what the locals call the numerous injuries accumulated by skittish, mostly mindless tourists blasting out on a bike for the first time. Liz and I planned to ride on the scarcely trafficked Island roads. Considering the bikes are single speed and don’t require any shifting, they sounded like fast bicycles. Boy was I wrong. Just kidding! They were super easy to ride. Gave our bike a test ride down the street and back. It was exhilarating. An unexpected passion rising. Our time with the motorbike was one of freedom and discovery. Signs on the island are tri-lingual. Thai, English, and Russian. Apparently the Islands of Thailand are to Russians as Florida is to Americans. In a narrow sense anyway. Immense access to restaurants thanks to the motorbike afforded us an overwhelming array of options.
We found food in a place which seemed to mostly serve a resort. The Cape. The prices were high but that’s to be expected of a place called “The Cape.” The prices were forgiven thanks to the sunset view. The sun was a coin splashed with well mixed ketchup and mustard sliding into the coin slot of the horizon. My meal was a deliciously painful papaya salad. Painfully spicy that is. No drink for me because of driving the bike. Our gaze settled on a strange sight on the water. a Shallow boat holding a square table, set for dinner, into the the sunset surf. A couple sat astride the suspect stability of a table on what amounts to a canoe. Our breath caught in our throats as we waited for the climactic topple. Luckily for the couple, their dinner cruise seemed to go off without a hitch. Disappointment plagued me at the loss of a surely hilarious spectacle. Liz, being a less cruel person, was relieved. Celebration was had when the headlight of our motorbike worked considerably better than the speedometer which insisted we were never going any faster than not at all.