Category Archives: Southern

Weekly Photo Challenge: Forward

khiri-khan-forward

Dominating the skyline of the humble provincial capital of Prachuap Khiri Khan, Thailand is this mountaintop temple.  Visible from almost anywhere in the whole town, a series of wooden stairs lead forward the way up the rocky outcrop to it peak.  Oftentimes it is dominated more by monkeys and soi dogs than by the monks or tourists traversing the stairs.

The name of the mountain translates to Mirror Tunnel Mountain because of a hole in the hill through which you can see the sky.  Two times here, and I still have never noticed this feature.

For more on the temple and the town of Prachuap Khiri Khan, click here

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Christmas Eve on Koh Tao

Christmas Eve started off slow.  Lorna  (a coworker from Bangkok) and I had spent the day learning basic scuba skills in a small, fairly filthy pool that was stuffed with way too many people.

Following a small rest after the class, Lorna and I met with 2 other girls from the course for a drink and dinner.  So, all grabbing a beer from 7-Eleven, we scoured the beach for a restaurant with decent food and a view.

By the time we left, things still didn’t seem to be picking up.  We had been hearing of a party going on at the Lotus bar, a few buildings down the beach from where we were taking the diving course.  We had checked it out on our walk down the beach before dinner, but nothing had been happening.

This time, unlike so many other places on this beach, Lotus was packed with people.  Many of them donned some sort of comical Santa homage.  Unfortunately, I had left my shabby Santa hat on the desk in my apartment back in Bangkok.

The night just got longer and more interesting from there; complete with beach dancing, fire dancers, people inhaling balloons full of ‘laughing gas’, and concluding with a fairly intense fight between a Canadian and an Aussie that had to be broken up by unhappy Thais.

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Zigzagging to Koh Tao

Arriving in Chumpon in the rain after midnight, I booked a ticket to Koh Tao at the Farang Bar & Guesthouse. This included explicit instructions that a taxi would pick me up to go to the dock at 6am for the 7am boat.

My first taxi didn’t come.

Come 6:30, i fogured I should starts being enterprising myself and flag another down. My second motorbike taxi didn’t know where he was going, and went to 3 different docks asking directions. So I missed my 7am boat.

Instead I am taking the 1pm fast boat at an entirely different pier. And I have to lay in a beach chair and stare at this scenery for 4 hours.

Life is harsh.

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Crossing the Malaysia Border at Sadao

In all honesty, despite the undeserved props I gave myself for inevitably braving the bombing capital of Thailand, I would much rather have spent the night in the Border town of Sadao.  Just the label itself – border town – it sounds exciting.  And indeed from the little I had read and even less that I saw of Sadao, it looked intriguing.

Getting comfortable.

The morning started out with me hopping into a van by myself just around the corner from where I had stayed.  From there, I waiting in another travel agency for 20 minutes before another van pulled up and I was told to get in.  So, fully loaded, I was heading south to the Malaysian border with a French guy, a bunch of old, smelly Brits, and a Muslim family.

An hour later, we were driving through Sadao, or at least a part of Sadao.  The main part of the actual town of Sadao is built around an intersection.  In one direction, you head west and will end up at the Malaysian border crossing of Padang Besar.  If you continue straight south down the Thailand National Highway 4, you come to the microcosmic chaos of Dannok.  It was here that I was crossing.

The clustered traffic leading up to the actual border was surrounded by a tightly-packed conglomerate of newer looking buildings.  Many familiar names passed by my van’s window including the obligatory McDonald’s and KFC.

A quick glimpse of the McDonald’s.

The extent of my experience with land border crossings had been crossing into Canada, and a lot of that has not been a good history.  As much as I would have loved to take a look around the town, my current ride guaranteed me the direction I wanted to go.

Goodbye Thailand!

Once at the actual crossing, we were told to get out of the van with the entirety of our luggage.  I was amazed how much this actually entailed for some of the other people travelling along with me.  The van waited while we were brought through a border agent who checked our passports and moved us on.  After that, we went into a building where our luggage was x-rayed on a conveyor belt.  Afterward we were all stamped through without any issue.

In . . .

. . . and out.

There was nothing but empty greenery and mountains passing us by as once we were all loaded back up.  This surprised me, given the items I had read about Malaysia’s supposedly detrimental deforestation.  One of the interesting things that became immediately apparent was the series of terraced hillsides likely designed for water drainage.

Another was that everything was no longer written in an unknown script like Thai.  Instead everything was transliterated in an official Latin script.  This has its pros and cons.  The pro, I can read what every sign says.  The problem, I don’t know what any of it means.  In Thailand, although every sign was in Thai, many were also subscripted in English as well.  Not so here.

Regardless, this was just the first step into a country that is, I think, overall much nicer than where I had been living for the last 5 months.

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“Don’t go there. You’ll get blown up.” – Hat Yai, Thailand

“Oh, don’t go to Yala/Hat Yai/anywhere in the south.  You’ll get blown up.”  This seemed to be a common sentiment among many of my students and even my Thai teaching partner before I left Bangkok.  And then there was a bombing in Hat Yai a few days before my arrival that I read had killed 14 people.

Seems for the most part like any other city at night. A bit quieter.

Still, it was the most direct route to the border crossing I needed to go to and the bus company had no more runs that day from Surat Thani to Sadao where I was crossing. Well before this trip, I had been teetering on the thought of whether I wanted to spend a night in Yala or Hat Yai on my way south just given their notoriety.

Still, the curiosity abounds about these kinds of places.  Simply to be able to say that you have been there may be reason enough to go.  So, with no other options my decision was made for me.

Hat Yai is frequently overshadowed by other cities in the country, despite being the largest outside the Bangkok area.  Most of its fame comes from its being part of the dreaded “deep South” of Thailand.  These three provinces near the Malaysia border have a large Muslim minority that harbors some resentment toward the officially Buddhist government.

This sometimes manifests itself into sporadic attacks or bombings with no real target or goal in mind, and simply serves to rattle things up for a bit.  These attacks don’t seem to target government or foreigners or really anything in particular.  Nor do they make any clear demands that I am aware of.  Malaysia does not necessarily want the territory and it doesn’t seem like a separate state would be forming there.

Still, this all serves to deter a vast amount of tourist that its neighboring provinces to the north receive.  Most people passing through are simply doing just that: coming or going from the Malaysian border.  Although I have been told that it is a popular area for Malaysian tourists.

Not that nice past the first glance.

While I read that Yala was a fairly pleasant town, Hat Yai was notably less so when we began driving in.  Admittedly, I had no orientation to it, but was driving through quite a bit before we got dropped off at the bus station around 8.

I had neither the energy nor the desire at that point to wander at any length that night to find someplace to sleep.  So, when I saw a sign for a bed for rent over a closed hair salon, I took it.  The rooms looked passable at first, but upon closer inspection, it was probably one of the least desirable places I had stayed in Thailand.  Spiders inhabited the ceiling corners.  I got to brush a few dead bugs off the bed.  And the sheets were crumby, quite literally.  Or at least I hoped they were crumbs.

I made it a point to phone my mother once I was settled a bit.  This would be my last night in Thailand, meaning my phone would be useless later on.

Jolene, who I had met the day before in Surat Thani, had brought up an interesting point that, because of the bombings, there would likely be a much larger police presence.  In theory, that should make it safer.  Police were indeed out in greater numbers than I expected.  Despite that, I still didn’t go further than a couple blocks from the bus station when looking for dinner.

The next morning I found a van just around the corner going to Penang, Malaysia.  Although my destination for that day, the ruins of Lembah Bujang, was a little bit before Penang, it still looked like my best and quickest option.

Though, despite the relentless doubts of people I worked with, I was not blown up.  And, while my first foray into semi-dangerous territory was not to exciting, it was a step toward proving to myself that not all places with a bad reputation are actually what people say.

The bus station area during the day.

Just waiting for mine.

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A Michigan Island in Surat Thani?

The Mackinac Island skyline.

 

It’s odd how enigmatic random chance can be sometimes.  While the boat ride back from Koh Phangan was entirely uneventful and mostly just spent continuing the travelogue I hadn’t picked up since getting to the island, I was in for a surprise once on the bus back to Surat Thani.

This bus was much more packed than the one to Koh Phangan, and many were stuck standing.  Luckily I made it in before it came to that.  And, so did the girl who ended up sitting next to me.  One of the things you quickly learn travelling is to never assume anyone speaks English, but it’s always a pleasant surprise when they do.

Jolene, as she introduced herself to me, had me convinced she was American at first, as her accent was completely indistinguishable from a standard American accent.  She was actually from Kuala Lumpur in Malaysia, but had spent a good deal of time in the United States.

In the grand scheme of the States, and even more so in the world, Michigan is pretty insignificant.  Since being abroad, I find it easiest to use Chicago as a reference to where I’m from.  She asked me to specify and I told her Michigan.

“Oh.  I know Michigan really well.  I worked on an a small island there called Mackinac Island.”

That was unexpected.  “I lived there for three years.”

Friends and I on Mackinac Island in 2010.

Mackinac Island is a very small island (8 mile circumference) located in the Straits of Mackinac, where Lakes Michigan and Huron (actually the same lake) meet.  The island has a year round population of about 500.  In the warmer months, it becomes a ‘summer colony’ with tourists, partial year residents, and hundreds or thousands of employees.

Despite the fact that United States work visas are increasingly hard to come across, there is a large number of foreign workers on Mack Isle.  A great majority are Jamaicans, a mystery in its own rite, even though I shared an apartment with about 6 during my first and second years there.  Also, many people, like Trang, who I was meeting in Singapore, came through pre-arranged job placements from companies like coolworks.com.  Jolene was also one of those people.

And so the conversation was sparked about Mackinac Island.  Places we both knew.  People we knew.  People we didn’t know.  And, pardon the language, but, all the fucked up things that happen on Mackinac Island.

She had a flight back to Kuala Lumpur in the morning, and despite the fact I had spent all of an hour in Surat Thani, I still seemed to be more familiar with it than she was.  A couple blocks from the same tour company where I had arrived from Khao Sok and where I would leave for Hat Yai tomorrow we found a guesthouse to stay in for a good price.

Surat Thani from where I stayed.

Surat Thani is nothing special.  It’s not developed for tourist infrastructure, but it has cheap lodging available.  The best places to eat and explore are located nearer the river, rather than the main road that runs through. For the most part, it’s just a practical and residential Thai city.

Jolene and I went looking for the night market said to be in the city, where there would assuredly be heapings of street food available cheaply.  What we found instead were empty malls and random stands closing down.  Both of us were able to get meals, but we also both picked up fillers at 7-Eleven too.

Waiting for the bus.

The next day, my main aim was to get a camera.  There was a Big C in Surat Thani and a Camera World inside of it.  They had a version of the same camera I had lost on Koh Phangan, but would not take cards for some reason.  So, in a whole complicated fiasco, and despite the fact that I didn’t want to use the disposable cash I had on me, I got my new camera.

After that, it was an immensely long and inconvenient tuk-tuk ride back to the tour company where I got to wait for three hours confined in heat for the bus to Hat Yai, a place every person I knew in Thailand warned me not to go.

Sweating waiting for the bus to Hat Yai.

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Cry for the Moon – Koh Phangan’s Full Moon Party

“The moon you felt,
it has no side
that’s dark like hell
or safe from light.”
- Tom DeLonge

‘Cry for the Moon’

“Cry for the moon” is, if I correctly understood a Thai coworker trying to explain it to me, a proverb expressing the sadness of a man longing for a woman (the moon) or something else impossible.  Of course, I’ve also noticed that Thai speakers of English often tend to confuse cry and pray.  Given this picture from which I first learned the proverb, I would presume it might have been intended to mean pray.

This picture I see everyday outside of the elevator on my classroom’s floor ran through my mind on the ride from Khao Sok back to Surat Thani, the way to Koh Phangan.  Though I didn’t know how I’d get there at the time, the whole experience would certainly live up to its international notoriety.

The Full Moon Party bus.

I got dropped off in Surat Thani at a travel agency right in the middle of town.  Given that the Full Moon Party was happening that night, it was loaded with people booking boats to the island.  It also meant that there was no shortage of spots.  For 600 baht, I got on a fully loaded bus to the Surat Thani port and then walked onto a very full ferry to the island.

The crowd waiting to get on the boat.

Coconut delivery.

The ferry had nearly every type of traveler I could possibly imagine on it.  Plenty of backpackers, Western families, Thai families, Thai groups of friends, Asian backpackers, and even a couple groups of Latin American backpackers, something that I’d never seen before.  Still the ride, along with the boats jacked-up miniature convenience store proved fairly uninteresting.  Most of my time was spent reclined on my backpack reading a good travelogue, Lost Cities of China, Central Asia, & India.

Typical backpackers.

Multi-use backpack also works well as a footrest.

Once at the docks of Thong Sala, the entire area became inundated with backpackers as confused as if they had just stepped off of their first plane in a foreign country.  Some were worried that there would be no way available to Haad Rin, the town on the southern tip of the island where the full moon party was located.  Others just figured the Full Moon Party happened right where we were.

Stuffed into the Songthaew.

Within five minutes of getting off the boat, I was in a songthaew heading south for 100 baht.  The amount of people who exited prior to getting to Haad Rin surprised me, since most were also there for the Full Moon Party.  It took a little bit of asking on my part to find the hostel I had booked for the time there.  As I’ve said numerous times before, I’m not a fan of booking ahead f time.  The last time I tried in Surin, I ended up booking a room 7 hours away.

This time, I was certain that the Lazy House Hostel was actually on Koh Phangan, but it was much more expensive than most places.  The initial night was 1250 baht, more than anything I’ve paid for a room before or since in Asia (including Singapore), and the following 2 nights were 750 baht.  And this was for a 20-bed dorm, not the slightest bit private.

Though I had a pleasant enough experience there, the only real gripe I had about it was the way they advertise their restaurant and bar.  I arrived expecting them to be a place to hang out at the actual hostel.  Instead they were a short walk around the block.  The actual Lazy House Hostel was just stairwell leading into several rooms stuffed full of dorm beds.

The Lazy House living up to its name.  Also the last picture from my old camera.  :(

When I walked in to drop my things off at my room, most of the beds were filled with sleeping backpackers.  Even though it was late afternoon, this was understandable.  The nights leading up to the Full Moon Party are widely said to be almost as wild as the party itself.  So, careful not to make too much noise, I locked the important things (wallet, passport, computer) in a small locker with my own padlock and stuck a few hundred baht into the one pocket my board shorts had.

The town of Haad Rin is exactly what you would expect for a town set up around a party frequented mainly by foreigners.  Every building has a shop or a restaurant selling something geared toward the partygoers.  Lots of brightly colored clothes, bars, useless trinkets, and surprisingly more medical centers than I have seen in towns of similar sizes made up the illogical tangle of streets.  It was what I would expect, but it was still different from anyplace I had been before.

Despite the fact that the sun was going down within a couple hours of when I hit the street, the town was less alive than what I would have figured.  After walking a couple blocks, I realized why.  Every bar was filled to the brim.  I imagined the rest were on the beach.

Because I was staying at the Lazy House Hostel, I got a complementary dinner at one of their restaurants.  It also included a free vodka bucket with my choice of mixer.

So, with that began the night of the Full Moon Party.

You wouldn’t think it would be easy to pass an entire night on 0.5 km stretch of beach.  Or, at least I wouldn’t think so.  But then again I know people who can just do nothing on a beach for days on end.  This ended up being quite easy to let the time go by though, as there was so much going on.

And the party lived up to most of the lore I had heard about it.  Of course there was plenty of drinking and dancing on the beach.  Fire dancers burned their artwork into the night air.  Drunken backpackers tripped and burned themselves on a propane-soaked rope passed off as a jump rope.  At the north end of the beach is “Mushroom Mountain”, a rocky hill lined with rock-carved stairs leading to bars selling their “magic shakes”.

Along the beach and a few meters out in the water were many people having sex in the ocean.  More often than not, they were surrounded by the dozens urinating their night away in the ocean.  Not that anyone cared.

More than anything, this all provided an amazing opportunity for people watching while strolling down the beach with the occasional beer in hand.  Throughout the night I got some fantastic pictures using a Sony WX9 I had bought specifically for night shots.  Come sun-up, I was feeling quite content, maybe even a little proud, that I had made it through the night unscathed, reasonably coherent, and had not suffered the all-too-common fate of having something stolen.

Then, around 7am, as I was reveling in this feeling and watching the sunrise over the eastern ocean, it happened.  With a beer on one side of me in the sand and my camera in its case on the other, I stood up to talk to a British guy who struck a conversation.  30 seconds later, I turned back around and the camera was gone.

Thankfully I had synced all of the pictures from Khao Sok before heading out to the beach, but that was still an entire night of amazing pictures gone.  This was just as big a let down as when I lost it after the trek in Chiang Mai.  On top of that, I couldn’t get another worthwhile digital camera until I returned to Surat Thani, meaning that last picture in the hostel is the final picture I was getting off of Koh Phangan.

Thankfully I had booked two extra “recovery days” after the Full Moon party itself, though those ended up being very similar to the first night.  Still, the little town at the southern tip of the island had delivered on its unspoken promises.  Immense parties and island romances abounded through the small breaks of quiet days.  Still, come the end of my reservations, it was most certainly time to move on.

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