I Had A Dream.....
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The heavy base guitars were deafening, they made the beer in my glass tremble as if T-Rex was on the prowl nearby and my mind was reeling. The only way to describe the feelings that were furiously attacking my brain is with a cliche: culture shock

Where I had expected quiet little streets with a few street vendors and some dilapidated restaurants, I found row upon row upon row of go-go bars, whores, whores, whores, techno bars, pubs tailored to specific nationalities, Mac Donalds', 7-elevens, discos, bowling alleys, blazing, humming and throbbing neon signs galore as well as restaurants from simple tourist rip-off to 5-star mega-tourist-rip-off. Shocked indeed. The uneasy feeling settled like a pint of ice-cold water into my stomach and I was contemplating whether I had fucked things up for this little vacation. Maybe we would have to pack our bags and beat a hasty retreat to Kho Pha-Ngan or even farther away. Maybe, for once, I should have listened to my friends.

I ordered another Singha Beer in desperation, waiting for Liping to show up again, back from a little shopping spree upon which she had embarked with glee. We were sitting in an "Italian" restaurant, as we had just arrived at 10:30 pm and were ravenously hungry. I had tried to make conversation with a guy who most resembled a traveler, but no luck. I had tried another guy, who looked pretty lonely, just to escape the fact that I might have screwed up mightily, but he wasn't interested either. If this continued, the vacation would turn into a write-off.

Although I was dog-tired, I kept ordering and drinking Singha Beers until 2:30 in the morning and finally crawled under my sheets.

*****

What a surprise when I opened my eyes the next morning! The beach was perhaps twenty meters from where I found myself. Gently rolling waves made a sound - which would make me drowsy later on while reading - and what was more, it was almost deserted. It didn't take me long to embark on a running start into the Gulf of Thailand. The water was *warm*, I realized with pleasant surprise. Where then were the hordes I had seen last night? Or was it all but a bad dream, crept upon me while I was hiding under the sheets? No, but it couldn't be, there was the moss on my teeth and the dragonflies in my head to prove it.

The situation explained itself while I sipped an ice-coffee on the veranda, listening to "Light My Fire" by Jimi Hendrix & Jim Morrison. It seemed as if everybody except Liping and me was grumbling about the weather. It was overcast, as it usually is at this time of year, which makes life a lot more pleasant than when the sun is blazing down with brute atomic power to singe your skin, frizzle your hair, ruin your eyes, rob you of all energy and make you perspire as you wouldn't believe. Still, it was around 85°F , the humidity was way op there in the stratosphere - but a gentle breeze wafted in from the ocean. Perfect! Except for 99% of the other tourists, who felt cheated of the sun.

Things got better steadily after that. We left all our stuff at the inn and set off along the beach. It got more and more deserted the farther we walked. The bungalows turned into huts, which again turned into the most simple A-frames without mattresses or electricity. We had to wade through a little river, where the water rose above our waists, and after that we came to a place where several small open fishing boats were moored. If you judge a boat by the paint, they were in bad shape. I had the feeling that it was more lucrative to work as a waiter in "town" than to go fishing these days. Town, by the way, consists of a single street parallel to the beach, but as touristy as you can possibly get.

At that point we had to literally run for cover, as huge black clouds were approaching rapidly, whipping up a strong wind with promise for a tropical downpour. We made it just in time to a little beach restaurant constructed entirely from one material: coconut palm tree in all its manifestations. I love those things, but I am afraid that they will be gone all too soon. You can watch one being built in one afternoon by a group of skilled workers, which is exactly what we had done in Viet Nam. But they don't last as long as ones built with corrugated iron and a variety of plastics. Well. I guess, I wouldn't like to rebuild all the time, either....

Liping sipped on a coconut - unfortunately from my point of view, not one of the giant golden "King Coconut" they have in Sri Lanka - while I was hard pressed to decide between Mekong Whisky and Singha Beer. In the end, they decided for me, as hadn't got any limes. We got out our books and spent a few hours reading and discussing what we were reading, seeing, smelling, feeling and drinking. My worries from the night before had gone the way of the dodo and the Tasmanian tiger, but there was another feeling now. I felt disconnected from reality, as if slightly stoned, except that I wasn't stoned or drunk or anything like that. Strange, weird feeling. It lasted for many hours and it came back every day for our entire stay.

When we went back to Lamai Inn www.sawadee.com/samui/lamaiinn/details/, we heard Jimi Hendrix wailing "Foxy Lady". Much as we wanted to avoid it, we had to go downtown again to exchange some money, buy a couple of things and get some food. I ran into a couple of masons or bricklayers from Germany and two teachers from the little island Bornholm in Denmark. The latter were quite pleasant to talk to, but they had already eaten and so they couldn't join us for dinner. Too bad. It was the last dinner we had in town, and it was just so-la-la. It had one redeeming feature, though. On the way back from that particular restaurant, I developed a case of terminal thirst, which again made me look at every single bar we passed like Old Eagle-Eye. Liping had her eyes peeled as well, only it was for the bikinis and tangas across the street. Finally we passed a bar that passed inspection. From then on every night ended at that particular one. www.pocahontasbar.com

The owner was a young guy from Denmark and while there were more than your usual share of Scandinavians around, I ran into a couple of Indians from Malaysia and two guys from Newcastle as well. We had plenty of fun with our accents and an ungodly amount of drinks to lubricate our conversation.

From then on we had our dinners right at the beach. Once in a while a massive downpour chased us under the roofs made from palm-fronds, but it was just as pleasant down there. There was a variety of excellent Thai food. Liping opted most of the time for different kinds of sea food, whereas I am more partial to really spicy Thai curries. All went well, except for one time, when we went to a particularly traditional place and I ordered a green curry. Dunno how people without a palate made from asbestos eat that stuff. But I managed to do it in the end, though I wouldn't have been able to without the help of one bottle of Mekong Whisky. We had one of those with every dinner. When that was finished, Liping would sip on her chilled white wine, while I would continue with beer. Most of the time Singha, but also a fair amount of Carlsberg.

When we ordered the very first bottle of Mekong, strictly according to how Paul/Neo/Drift would have done it, I thought it only fitting to propose a toast to PABD. Collectively first, and individually later, with a specific wish for every one. We liked the idea so much, that from then on we did it with every bottle of Mekong we had. [We brought four big bottles back to Taiwan with us, so we can continue the tradition for a while. If we only have the occasional sip, that is. Right now, we are both drinking Chardonnay, so as not to waste any of our treasures. ;-)))]

And, like I said before, every evening we ended up in our favorite bar and talked to interesting people from all over. Time was rushing past us at warp five at least.

Then Nick & Jocelyn showed up. Nick took us to "No.1 Lookout", which was definitely worth the ride in the tuk-tuk. www.into-asia.com/bangkok/tuk-tuk/ We went on to Chaweng, where I experienced culture shock once more, only much much worse. I'd stayed there before in '86 or '87 and now I sat amongst all the glitzy splendor, vainly looking for a Thai person anywhere. Even the waiters were mostly foreigners. I didn't even see a single whore there! The average age of all the tourists was way up there, the prices were out of this world and I couldn't wait to get back to Lamai. We had decided to go to bed early, as we were flying the next day and actually made it to bed at 2:30. So far so good.

The trip back was unpleasant. When I had to pay airport tax for the fourth time on this trip, I finally lost my temper. Didn't help things, of course. When I ran into the vast crowds at the airport in Bangkok, I was about ready to just say "eff this" and head back the way I had come.

And then a curious thing happened. While I had been feeling the "disconnect" every day at the beach, Liping got that feeling as soon as we were back in Taiwan. The weather and everything was OK actually, particularly for this time of the year. But still.... Something seemed not right. What with all the rushing and the grim faces and the dollar signs shining out of everybody's eyes. Something was amiss for sure, but it seems to slip farther and farther out of our grasp with every single hour we spend amongst the multitudes. And in just a few more days, in just one week, we will finally be back and we will have accepted that *this* is reality and the beach is what everybody says it is. A dream. And what a pleasant dream it is.

Cheers!

Holg http://pub38.ezboard.com/fpeaceandboatdrinks66759frm7.showMessage?topicID=5.topic