Songkran

I spent much of my second day in Koh Chang on a snorkel boat with roughly 300 happy, smiley Thai people and exactly three other farang like me. I wouldn't call the snorkelling world-class but I think that's what you get when you send four similar sized boats to the same destinations. There were life vests, lots of them, and lots of people who couldn't swim. This baffles me. Why go on a snorkelling trip if you can't swim?

Alas. The day was beautiful, the water clearish and after eight hours of sun and sea, I was ready to head back to the hotel sharpish. 

Koh Chang, and the rest of Thailand, had other plans. As it turned out, I'd booked my holiday over the Songkran Festival, the Thai New Year. The festival is a three-day event celebrated according to the lunar cycle and the first full moon in April is considered the new year.

In the temples, there's a lot of Buddha celebrations, throwing (pouring) water onto Buddha's feet and gathering with family members near and far. 

On the street, that transpires into a happy kind of bedlam. The young, old and everyone in between, Thai, white and otherwise gather their water guns, buckets, hoses, essentially any receptacle that holds water and proceed to deluge every passerby in a message of washing away the bad luck for the upcoming year. 

In Koh Chang, where one main road covers the circumference of the extremely hilly island (there's even a viewpoint called 'The Amalfi Point'), this brought traffic to a standstill. Freshly arrived off our snorkel tour, we loaded into our transfer, a Songtaew, or large pickup truck with open seating in the back. Ten minutes into the 30-minute transfer turned an hour-long, the people riding in the back had been soaked, doused, bucketed and hosed more than a dozen times. By some minor miracle, and before knowing what I knew about Songkran, I'd finagled a seat in the front of the truck. The driver and I giggled gleefully at the screams of the passengers in the back. 

People travelling via motorbike had it particularly bad, At several points they were stopped by pedestrians in the middle of the road and doused with water then covered in a chalk-like substance. I still haven't got to the bottom of this one. 

What I can say is that after an hour in the back of the truck, the Thai people in the back resembled bedraggled cats. Happy, smiley bedraggled ones. The whole event was taken in good fun and replayed itself again and again yesterday and today.  As I head to Bangkok now, I'm looking forward to seeing how this plays out in a city.

And I'll be leaving all my electronics back at home. 

Pattaya

International teaching has a lot of perks, one being the friends you make who then move on to pastures newer, greener and beachier. As I was making very last minute plans for my upcoming trip, Ian and Louise, from the Shanghai days, got in touch to invite me to stay with them in their Pattaya beachside pad.

My first reaction was something louder than a hesitation. Pattaya is home to the world's largest sex industry wrapped in neon lights, ping pong shows and on-the-street prostition. But I was going to be in the area (ish) and I like Ian and Louise a lot so I humbly agreed expecting the worst.

Gemma, Clare, Rosa and I made our way via a private transfer to the backwaters of Jomtien, 30-minutes south of Central Pattaya and a world away from the grit and sleaze. We bid Gemma and Clare a farewell as they made their way back to Shanghai and then ascended to the fourth floor and were greeted with panoramic views of mountains from one balcony and beach and pool from the other. The beach was there. Right there. Within nearly spitting distance.

The beachside balcony boasted lots of lounging space, bartender Ian offered a strongly poured gin and tonic, and Chez Ian and Lou became a delightful home away from home for the next three days. We bid Rosa a farewell on the second day and then my delightful hosts showed me around the finer dining (soft shell crab, oysters, catch of the day) for cut rate local prices. We lounged by the pool, we lounged by the beach, we lounged in the massage chair.

All the while having conversations you have with people who know you and get you and understand the crazy desire to travel, the insanity of living abroad, the love of this insanity.

On our last night we made our way into central Pattaya to the Hilton's rooftop perch. The views were stunning, the coastline in relief refusing to succumb to the stereotype.  Ian and Lou are aware of the maddening din of neon, about raising their daughter so close to this. But the school they work at, the place they live seemed miles away from the madness. It became a haven, a very welcome final reunion on the trip filled with reunions.

So much so that I was sad to leave and fly solo for my last leg of the trip. With a quenched spirit, onward to Koh Chang I ventured.

Koh Samet

To move backwards in time from the previous entry, I started the holiday with a 18-hour tour of Bangkok. I'm not entirely sure you could even call it a tour. Upon arrival, I made my way to Sukhumvit and the Movenpick Hotel where I proceeded to attempt to sleep off the 15-hour journey with Aeroflot. My second flight, from Moscow, resembled a crèche, complete with screaming babies, desperately-trying-to-tune-it-out parents, and the rest of us suffering fools.

Once horizontal, sleep did not easily come. But Rosa arrived and we made our way through a part of Bangkok we'd both been to before, had a street papaya salad and then met up with Jay, from the good old RHS days, and his wife Beth. Rosa and I finished off the day with a foot massage; I mean, I woke up 58 minutes after it started but who's counting. 

We woke up the next morning only to be whisked away to Koh Samet, the closest island to Bangkok and a three-hour drive/speed boat ride away. By 2pm Rosa and I were beachside at Samed Villa, on the quiet end of Samet's main drag of beach. Sun, sand, heat. It was everything we wanted.

Another 18-hours later, Clare and Gemma arrived off a flight from Shanghai. Reunion tasted like beers on the beach, papaya salads and salt water ocean breezes. We did a lot of nothing. 

Samet as an island was prettier than I expected. Known as Bangkok's weekend getaway for expats and locals alike, I was expecting tat and tack. Instead, we were greeted with lots of beachside bars and restaurants, one particularly loud fire show (a bit tacky) and a limited number of shops. The water wasn't gloriously clean--it appears a lot of Bangkok's plastic finds its way to the ocean here. But upon further exploration we found Ao Prao beach did a good sunset, Tub Thim beach was suitably secluded and the beaches peppered along the east coast extending south were varied and vast.

We, well I, did no major exploration. I wanted sun and got it. I wanted sand and got it. Samet wasn't Thailand at its best but by no means was it at its worst. Given the time, the place, the company and the month I'd left behind, it was everything I wanted and needed. So much so I'd recommend it and do it again. 

Koh Chang Perspective

I currently find myself sitting in Keereeta Lagoon (more recently renamed as 'Watercolours'), a rather charming hotel (for lack of a better word) that wields access by lagoon only. The breakfast sitting space overlooks said lagoon with a view to a charming Thai Restaurant roughly 50-meters, by boat, away. I should mention that I'm on Koh Chang, Thailand's second largest island, a short distance away from the border to Cambodia.  It's been touched by tourism but with 70% of the island covered in dense jungle, it's not nearly as busy, crazy or bumping as Thailand's other islands.

Today I kayaked to Kai Bae Beach and Klong Prao Beach, two two-kilometre-long strips of sand bisected by the lagoon. I parked on the sandbar and meandered slowly into the sunshine. On my beach walk, I ran into maybe 100 people all afternoon. They wandered the shallow sand bars way out into the sea and dipped toes into ocean water warmed to bathtub temperatures. When I returned four hours later, my kayak was gone. Tides, go figure. All came good; there's only so far a renegade kayak can make it in an enclosed waterway.

Tonight, after dinner, I joined a Thai family, grandparents included, on a nighttime boat tour to peep at the fireflies. Yes, fireflies. It took me back to Michigan summers and I swear I could smell the dying embers of a childhood August in my parents' backyard.

Both yesterday, today and tonight, I continue to marvel at this place, this island. I haven't had one of those simultaneously sublimely happy with everything moments in a while. When I have felt them, it's usually for a minute or two. But this feeling's lasted through yesterday's literal kayak into the sunset, through sitting on the dock and watching the world go by, through firefly hunting and a meal of black peppered soft shell crab.

Nostalgia is powerful and being on the water reminds me of summers at camp, pure happiness with a pay check attached. With mountains in the distance and even a sign pointing to Frontage Road (home of said summer camp), I have distilled the chaos of life away or perhaps sweated it out after a particularly spicy Tom Yum.

I can't stop smiling. And to me, that sounds like the perfect way to end a two-week Thailand trip.

On Return

Pardon the absence; it's been a while. This while is the longest while of a break I've had from the likes of travel documentation. It's not to say I haven't been travelling. It's been rather the contrary and I still have 93% of last summer to cover. Partially, it's down to technology and blogger's linking to google therefore to google plus, all very tedious.

Mostly it's been down to something I coin as The Readjustment. Capital letters and everything. All the material tells you that moving back to your country of origin (or in my case, my adopted country of origin) will be tough. You won't be the same, the place will be largely the same with subtle differences, be patient, blah blah blah. I knew all of this. And yet. I could liken it to an analogy my mother gave me (she loves an analogy). She trained as a nurse and worked some time in labour and delivery. In her desire to comfort patients going through the agony of childbirth, pre-her own children, she'd hit them with logical, tangible facts and details of childbirth. As if this would comfort them. She only realised her arrogance/naivety when it was her with the shoe, leg(?) on the other foot, as such. I'm not likening return to childbirth--I know nothing about this. But I do know that facts and logic don't always cut the mustard in high-stress situations. 

With time, I can hand on my heart say a few things: 1. Returning to the UK was bittersweet. 2. For at least two weeks, I was a straight up douche canoe (buzzfeed's terminology, not mine) to my boyfriend. I knew I was doing it and I couldnt' help myself. He extorted a powerful amount of saint-like understanding. My level of crazy does not deserve his levelheadedness. 3. It got better. It got worse. It got better. It got worse again. It got better. Terribly formulaic.

To go into the details would drag me through the minutae of nearly a school year. Briefly then: having visitors from near and far helped, a lot. Their departure also made me sad. Having great friends in London also helped, a lot. They've rallied me through the wanderer's return with invites and parties and pub quizzes. It goes without saying that Paul has been a rock, even when his health continues to fluctuate. He made good on his promises of the purchase of a reading chair and a sausage dog. We're navigating our way through what our version of 'family' looks like despite what the rest of society might want from us. 

A few other 'minor' things are in the works. I start a new job at an international school in London in September; I think that'll go a way in rectifying my desire to be at one with the world. March was a crazy, cantankerous month but all came good in nearly the 25th hour. So we'll leave it at that for the moment. I'm back. I feel back. A bit more lucid and definitely more grounded. My feet and soul will continue to itch and to that I am grateful that I'm a teacher who loves what I do but also loves the freedom I get to travel. 

At the moment, I find myself at the end of a two-week trip to Thailand. I'm on my own for the last four days but the first week and a bit was filled with reunions of the best variety--Rosa, Jay from high school, Clare and Gemma from Shanghai, Ian and Louise from Shanghai. I'm blessed with friendships the world over. And I'm reminded that true friends don't let geography get in the way. 

Watch this space as I update and backdate!