Railay

I so much prefer to travel by day. Unfortunately, there are only overnight buses south out of Bangkok. I slept very little; saw even less. What I did see was glimpsed through a small hole in a broken window alongside me, repaired with black duct tape. Wet streets, lights, plantations of some sort, a sense of emptiness. (A premonition, I think, of what teaching might be like: the loneliness of a foriegner who can't speak the local language. Well then, I'll just have to learn!)

The bus runs late. By the time I find a hotel in Krabi I've been travelling for about 17 hours instead of the promised 12. I vow that next time I will take the sleeper train or fly. The next day I join a group who are also travelling to Railay (the base for the rock climbing in the area). None of them are climbers though. As the small flat bottomed boat (perfect for travelling over reefs), pulls out, a couple from Oz (possibly Nz) -- him, big, but flabby and weak looking (long dirty hair); she, plump and saggy breasted, yellowed tshirt -- strike up a conversation with a welltaned freckled woman from the Uk. What do I remember from their conversation?

Long haired: I go to bed drunk every night. We can't sleep otherwise (wife nods demurely). Too hot. Mosquitoes. Bed bugs.

Uk: IthoughtIwasgoingtomovetoNewZealand butthenitjust... didn't feel right. SoIdecided, twoweeksinNZ ortwomonthsinThailand? wouldyoulikemyciggaretes? OnlywayIcan giveup. AndthenIcalledmyboyfreindandhesaid...
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Long haired: After the Uk, thought we could go home and buy a farm. Live like hillbilys or something (grimaces slightly, as if realizing that we are all thinking he already looks like a hillbilly). Buy some sheep and stuff...

I stop listening and look around. The boat-ride fills me with anticipation. In the distance, huge limestone outcrops jut straight from the sea, one looking like the dorsal fin of some mosntrous sea creature. The light is harsh off the sea, and I have to squint to make out the horizon. On our right the wharf passes, boats in different stages of disintegration (some peeling, some half sunk - though still brightly coloured) and later, mangroves, their strange Medussa roots just showin in the high tide. In Railay, the other three, still in converstion go off to lunch together. I wander off and establish myself in a bungalow in the nearby Ton sai.

Ah, interesting lovely people:

the dreadlocked shirtless thai boatman who plays frisbee constantly. His abs impossibly ripped and shiny with sweat.

German climbing school owner (?). Married to a Thai. Embittered looking and loud mouthed. Standing far away from the beach in her little shop.

Canadian tourist. Phd in child psychology. Eastern features, dark oriental eyes (wickedly sparkling). The strangest build. Slight with strong hairy calfs and forearms (also covered in fine dark hair.

Gay american from San francisco. The most down to earth american I've met. Clear grey-blue eyes; greying goatee; bald but for a greying ponytail; wisps of hair coming directly out of his pointed nose. I ask what he does for a living. "A bit of reiki, a bit of porn, some escort work; I try not to worry about money; I just let it come; You can't worry about it." (More ironic stuff i wish i could remember). Slowly it dawns on me that he is hitting on me. Luckily, I was about to ask him how women react when he tells them he is a porn star. having done porn is it easy or harder going without sex? "I'm not sure really. It's hard to tell. I think its harder when you are gay." More of the same I won't bore you with...

I consider being bisexual for the night. After all, he is a porn star. I decide I prefer the Canadian. But, since I'm feeling tired and I'm leaving the next day, I go to bed alone once more... har har