Day 317 - "The Beach" & the tsunami

Today was possibly one of my favourite days in Thailand. In fact, I think it was my most favourite. I'm writing this almost 2 weeks after it happened - a sure sign that I've been enjoying myself way too much - and nothing's topped it yet. So I dedicated a whole posting to a 4-hour event. Anyway, on with the day...



So, its our 4th day on Ko Phi Phi. Yesterday we were supposed to be jaunting around the island in a boat but the weather decided to betray us, so we're here today, 9am, mildly hungover from an evening of watching bad lady boys dance to bad gay pop music to the open-mouthed reception of hundreds of western tourists. More on that another day, but for now, its sufficient to say that I'm still a little drunk, giggling like a kid and overly excited about our day on the waves. Slapping on the factor 15 and clambering into our boat, the 6 of us head off across the crystal clear waters of Ko Phi Phi's east beach heading south.



After passing bay after bay of white sand beaches and cliff-side huts, decorated with wooden shacks and garland-covered long-boats, we stop in a small cove where the 10ft deep perfectly clear water covers a vast field of sparkling coral. No idea how deep it is from above the gentle waves, i'm the first to don my snorkel and mask and drop in. And within minutes we're all face down in the water, gazing at the gorgeous coral formations.



So, its not the Great Barrier Reef here. The water's not *quite* as clear, and the coral's not *quite* as colourful or varied. There's the odd Chang Beer can rusting on the needle-like coral bed, and occasional trees of coral the size of footballs snapped at the their root and fading from life rest against other more vivid sponges. That all said, its a pretty good alternative. This isn't the best place in Thailand for snorkelling, but its as good as it could be and for anyone thinking of visiting, don't be put off by what you get told. Its a nice ride, and we spent a good 30minutes lost in the abundance of fish, circling us as our boat driver throws banana skins in to attract them, and the warm sunshine penetrating our lotioned backs and glittering off the shallowest corals.



And the next 2 hours were pretty much this. Another stop - this time in deep deep water with thousands of fish bombing around in those amazing formations likes dynamic clouds. We'd dive deep to try and reach them and the cloud would gracefully arch away from us. Diving off the boat was amazing - the long boat we were riding stands high out of the water on the helm - perfect for perfecting backflip dives (I couldn't do it - some kind of fear of breaking my neck on the water - no doubt instilled in my from childhood - MUM!).



And after some more corals and a brief landing on a picturesque coral beach (we were expected to pay to disembark - we refused and I have no photos - take my word for it, it was beautiful), our comical guide throws us the map and directs us around the other end of the network of islands to "the beach" beach. "from the movie".





If you haven't seen "The Beach", starring Leo DiCaprio, you're not missing too much. Its good. Not as good as the book (of course), but good. The book itself was *the* traveller book to read if you were in thailand in the late nineties. Even now, its seen gracing the shelves of book exchanges across SE Asia and around these parts of talked about by travellers and locals alike. Some kind of selling point to thailand. Anyway, Lord of the Flies style thriller, Leo hears of the last perfect beach in thailand, uncorrupted by tourists and locals alike, and hunts it down to find a community of backpackers running the place. I won't go on - read it if you're bored.

BUT, the fact is that whilst in the book/film the untouched island paradise is located miles away from here on the other side of Thailand, the actually filming took place on a island off the coast of Ko Phi Phi. And we're heading for it. Its around the back of the most impressive of volcanic plugs that we skirt around, gawping at the sheer hugeness of the rising cliffs, undercut dramatically at the sea level and waiting to collapse at any time. And just minutes later, a mere 20min boat ride from our home island, we encounter The Beach.



I'm pretty rubbish at describing these things, so I'll let the photos do the talking, but this beach is now. Instantly recognisable if you've seen the film, the beach is surrounded by towering limestone cliffs and exudes a serene and tribal quality. Our boat driver, as is the custom for thai tourist-workers, decides to rip us off by charging us to go on the island - we're all well aware this isn't the case and pay up begrudgingly as he hides his face from us in some kind of shame-filled ritual. That aside, we swim in the chalky blue waters, Dan and I skim stones til are arms are tired, and sam skulks around in the shade of the surrounding cliffs to protect her burnt skin, over-sensitised by the anti-malarials we're routinely taking.





But we can't stay for too long - we have other items on the agenda, and after some more sight-seeing under the water (this time dogged by the those microscopic jellyfish that we all hate with venom), we take a slow casual ride around the amazing blues and greens of the coves of the island, claustrophobic from their imposing cliffs and water that radiates colour.





And just as the sun starts to make its descent, slowly at first and then rushing to submerge itself below the horizon about an hour later, our boat driver takes us to our last stop - the 25ft jump. I'm crapping myself. I HATE heights and I HATE climbing to heights and I certainly HATE jumping from heights. I'm nervous and agitated - he's dropped us not at the cliff-jumping site routinely used by these tours with a footpath to the top. No, we're at low-tide and need to clamber over sharp volcanic rocks, scaling the precipitous rockface in flip-flops and bare hands. I cut my foot. I hate this. I can feel the pressure of having to jump getting stronger - the lack of an easy alternative - no way of climbing down. I'll have to jump. I hate that.



Dan's up first. He reaches the top - its about 5 storeys high, and none of us really know if its deep enough. He's nervous (although not scared), but Tom isn't, so he skirts past me (clinging to a tree) and dan, takes a firm grip on his removed flip-flops, smiles for the camera, and he's gone. I see his head disappear over the edge and seconds later a splash and the cheers from the girls in the boat. Dan's itching to get moving too, so edges forward, hesitates a little, then he's gone too. He screamed on the way down - I feel justified to be scared now.



And then its me. Unable for a few seconds to let go of the tree holding me back, I edge myself across the sharp weathered rocks - the deep grooves and razor-like ridges of rocks exposed to the elements for hundreds of years but too tough to let themselves erode gently - and peer over the edge. It so far down. My heart is racing and all I really remember is shouting expletives as I searched for the balls to make the jump deep in my stomach. I look at Sam - she's pleading me on with her eyes. The whole boat now is cheering and shouting but I'm zoned out. Its too high. And I'm scared. I can't do this.



But I did. That hidden part of your brain that hates your fear and hates your weakness grabbed control of my motor-nuerons, zapping them with enough electrical activity to make me step, almost outside of my own control, off the edge of the cliff. Melodrama aside, falling those 5 storeys was more than just a cliff-dive. I remember lucidly the rushing of the air past my ears, the speed at which the water's surface zoomed towards me, the pain as my feet slapped the concrete-like floor and the depth I sunk too, surrounded by an all-encompassing spray of bubble, before clawing my way to the surface.

Its funny. I take this whole experience way too seriously. I shouldn't. It was just a bit of fun. But my whole life I've been hounded by dreams of falling. Dreams of hanging above huge drops, letting go, falling for long enough to compose my thoughts and realise my impending impact, but waking before it happens. And here I was, dropping through the sky. The ground rushed me, its perspective doubling, tripling in size as it comes towards me, only my feet and water seperating what feels like a near-certain death. It was poignant. A realisation that those dreams were accurate. How did I know it would be like that, all those years that i've been having those dreams. How did i know how potently acute that feeling was?

Anyway, I survived. The adrenaline kept me reeling about it for the next hour, and despite the slithers of blood of my feet from the rocks I'm beaming and ready for some more action sports. Maybe not another cliff-dive. But something fun nonetheless. And with that, our boat trip comes to an end and we head back to Ko Phi Phi, where we part company for an hour from the others as Tom and I decide to head up to the viewpoint, high on the cliff overlooking the approaching sunset and a vista over the developed part of the island.





And here is probably a good time to talk, just briefly, about the tsunami. Ko Phi Phi was hit pretty bad - remember we're on the Andaman coast now, west of mainland Thailand and in direct fire of any approaching tsunami's from the Indian Ocean. I've studied some of this stuff, so its not that new to me, but the practicalities are pretty different from my text-book education. The locals here aren't that keen to talk about what happened - when Eve decided to sing the Manic Street Preachers "Tsunami" chorus on the boat trip, the driver berated her quickly and refused to entertain the subject any more. 300,00 people died on Boxing Day, just over 3 years ago. The whole of Ko Phi Phi as I know it was destroyed. Tsunami warning signs around the island point people towards the higher ground that Tom and I are hiking towards to catch the sunset.



I didn't probe much about this stuff - so many people died here, and all around the Indian Ocean that its likely that whoever you speak to probably knows someone in their family, or one of their close friends who died. Especially those people here. But what I did find out was encouraging. One fisherman on Ko Chang told me that as the waters recede (prior to each 10ft high wave to hit the coast, the water recedes back almost a hundred meters out to sea as the wave gathers water), exposing land never seen before by human eyes, fish are left stranded on the seabed. It was at these times, perfectly timed to prevent anyone coming to harm, that fishermen, their children and their wives, would run out to the seabed with baskets grabbing as many of the stranded fish as possible, before running back inland and bracing themselves for the next wave.



And now that Ko Phi Phi has been rebuilt, its as charming as I imagine it ever was. The tourists have returned (after a serious lull that further destroyed a lot of the local businesses here), the evacuation routes and alarms have been installed and everyone keeps a quiet eye on that falling tide, just incase it doesn't come back in. Life has moved on. And as we clamber up the steepest incline I've done in months (since china in fact), we eventually make it up to the viewpoint with just 10 minutes to go before the sun slips out of view. The place is overcome with tourists, some of whom seem to have been sat here for hours waiting for the same thing. But its quiet and contemplative. A book stands outside a shop selling photographs of the damage and destruction caused by the tsunami, at key points that can be picked out from here. But its not tasteless. In fact, its informative and done without unnecessary pity. More a success story in rehabilitation than of defeat by nature.







And with an evening of goodbye drinks with Dan and Sarah, we party into the night, stumble home drunk and prepare for an early rise to head off to Ko Samui, a day's travel away from here but with the lure of more beaches and cheaper prices.

Day 313 - Ko Phi Phi

Leonardo DiCaprio has been here. Confirmed.



Right. Let's get one thing straight. Ko Phi Phi is gorgeous. I don't care how much you think Thailand sucks because *everyone* goes there these days. I don't care how overdeveloped, over-priced or over-trodden those shores are. I don't care. Ko Phi Phi is, without exception, one of the most beautiful islands I've seen on the planet. This is a fact.



We spent 4 days here. Its enough. You need extra days lurking around the Andaman coast (that's the one on the west of the thai peninsula) since the weather is a bit more temperamental than after its crossed the mainland and drenches the gulf coast in ceaseless sunshine. The journey from Ko Chang to Kratie, launchpad for the island, was without incident. Kratie itself, perhaps different when its not raining as heavy as a british winter, was lifeless and uninspiring. We hid ourselves in an internet cafe and slept in log cabins before waking early to catch the 2 hour ferry to the island. Which was beautiful. The islands, as well as most of the coastline in southern thailand, is karst limestone - that type of limestone that stretches vertically towards the heavens for ever, narrowing at the sea level and so appearing to hang in the air, almost weightlessly. Its so beautiful. We're racing across the ocean, catching glimpses of dolphins darting in and out of the water in packs, and growing closer to the large, densely forested island. The most amazing slips of white beaches stretch between headlands, and the crystal clear blue waters get closer to us with every minute.



Arriving on Ko Phi Phi (or PP for short) was another matter. The harbour area is clear, but dirty. The huge passenger ferries clump together, side by side, so that you have to cross from one to another, 3 ferries this time for us, just to get to the jetty. Then its an epic struggle to make it through the crowds of hotel owners thrusting flyers and booklets in your face, side-stepping lazy backpackers blocking your path and all along contending with the searing heat and lack of sea-breeze once on the land.

We stood around for ages - contemplating, trying to bag a decent deal. Getting a room for 4 was out of the question. And 2 doubles were gonna be expensive. Pool out of the question. But trying to get a good price is impossible - and soon we settle for 800B (!!!) per double room with NO FRILLS - the skankiest, most hideous rooms we've stayed in in south-east asia.



That stuff aside, we've arrived and its pretty and its hot, so within minutes we're stripped off down to our boardies and heading the 30seconds walk from our rooms to the beach. The water's crystal clear and calm and we chuck out towels down on the narrow beach and hop in the water. Its amazing. For about 30 seconds. Whilst still only waist deep in the beauitul waters, surrounded by the most impressive of natural bays I've ever seen, a jellyfish about the size of a grain of sand gives me a gentle although painful prod on my leg. Its unpleasant. I swim on. 10 seconds later, I look back and Sam and Eve are striding out of the water towards our towels, scratching and rubbing themselves in discomfort. Tom and I brave it onwards, out to sea. But within a minute we're heading back to shore. The microscopic sea stingers are dogging our every move. Simply the friction of water over the sting sites is enough to make it ripple pain subtly across the surface of my thighs. I'm narked off. Its too hot to sunbathe without being able to dip in the water, so Sam heads back to the room and I sit scratching my invisible 'stings' angrily with Tom and Eve in tow.

So, the sea is out of bounds, at least - as far as my pain threshold will allow - so Tom (fellow sex pest) and I wander along the short beach to see what the place is like. And its a sight to behold. I've only seen this sort of place a couple of other places in the world. Ibiza is one of them. The other is off the tv - some MTV show where they get loads of pretty people to all dance around in their swimmers in the late 90s.



You see Ko Phi Phi is stacked with buff bodies and thin, pretty girls. Its like a perv's dream destination. On every sun bed, lurking in the shallows of the waters edge, playing volleyball enthusiastically, wandering along the beach listening to their iPods with their shorts hanging too low off their hips - this place is overrun with well oiled, worked out and bronzed bodies. Its a bit sick. I mean, what brings all these people to the same place? How do they all know about it? Does Men's Health recommend you come here once you have established your six-pack? Is it known as *the* place to go if you think that you're hot?

I dunno. Whatever, I feel ambivalent about the place. One minute I'm gawping open-mouthed at the guys playing beach ping-pong as the infectious salt waters lap their feet, and the next I'm shading my (not unattractive but evident) belly from the flocks of girls watching me wander by. I never feel self-conscious with my shirt off - i think I look alright - but here I look like a pale, under-excersised over-eater. I hate it. But at the same time, no one seems to care, and I feel accepted into the gang of fun-loving 18-30s. Its so not my scene, but it feels like for a day or two, I can stop and stay.

But the lure of beauty is short-lived as I get bored and sweaty so decide the next best option after being surrounded by hot people is to be surrounded by electromagnetic waves, eminating from Myspace headquarters. A good couple of hours on the internet puts everything into perspective.



Which it does. Along with the promise of some more familar faces. Dan and Sarah, who we met in Sydney at the infamous Maze Backpackers, are on the island, staying at some posh resort on the other end of our locality. Sam has already gone in search of the guys, so I round up Tom and Eve and head off across the island to do the same. It takes us over an hour, 3 hotels and a lot of patient scouring through filing cabinets to find them, but eventually we're pointed at bungalow 2 and soon we're clambering over each other to say hello and catching up on 3 months of missed action.



Its a thai (that is a thai-tourist) custom to drink buckets of alcohol here. They get you wasted in a relatively short amount of time and you ALWAYS want another bucket, so you see these orphaned little half-full buckets lining the streets of thai resorts the next morning. Containing a bottle of local whisky, 2 bottles of redbull and a can of coke, they're lethal, and when I arrive at the scene in the bar, these guys are onto their second and its pretty obvious they're gonna keep going.



2 becomes 3, which becomes 4 before Sarah's dancing on the table, flashing her knickers; eve's wild as always; i'm dragging everyone upstairs onto the dancefloor overlooking the whole bar and dancing like a monkey and tom's sat sweating and wasted in the corner cos he can't really handle his buckets (sorry mate - its true though). Some dude manages to make Dan cry (ah, mate) but he's fought off in no time and soon I'm walking sarah home and stumbling my way through the local village back to our hostel.





And the next two days were a considerably more relaxed affair. Dan and Sarah are staying in the posh place for a few days, so they have a pool, so after getting up around midday we drag ourselves across the island (its a long walk and there's no cars here) to their pool and laze around all day, soaking up the temperamental Andaman sun. We eat plenty, drink plenty, soak and bathe ourselves and even hire a DVD player to watch some films on. Being here is so much like being on a two-week holiday its unreal. I love it.





The whole time was only marred by the weather and a few matters of the heart which came to a climax during the first evening. That said, its hard to be depressed when you're on such a pretty place. The weaving street that runs along the length of the beach, scattered with massage palours, cafes, restaurants and tattoo shops. Shops selling beads and sunglasses and boardies. Seafood restaurants where obese rich men are pointing out which lobster they want their trophy wife to eat. Blind dudes selling garlands of flowers. Palm trees overhanging the path so the steady flow of tourists, like ants marching in single file, need to veer out the way to get around them. Couples hanging off each other as they tread slowly along the sandy brick paths. Kids dropping ice creams and crying, and thai boat drivers calling out for you to take their taxi-boat around the islands on a day-trip tomorrow. Its relaxing and beautiful and despite the horrendous day yesterday, its a pleaure to have arrived and to be enjoying this place. And for minute I thought I was too jaded a traveller to enjoy an over-touristed thai island.



Now, I have to include the photographs, because I'm quite pleased with them, but I want everyone to be fully aware that I HATE FIREDANCERS. I'm not saying that out of some bravado for hating people who work on beaches, or because i'm too cool to like something like that. I just think its a lot of effort to learn this 'art' and the end results are a bit rubbish. Even here, where the shows were wowwing everyone in sight, I felt a bit let down and bored within a minute. I DID like taking photos of them though. This is my personal favourite.



So yeah, the place is awash with a million firedancers - some are like 5 years old and throw their flaming bats around like they've been doing it for years (they probably have - child labour enforcers are nowhere to be seen over these ways) to the angst of Rage Against the Machine. The older ones don't get as much applause (age discrimination is anything but subtle over here) despite the shows being just as energetic. and rubbish. and its hard to ignore these guys when you see flaming balls being lobbed into the air while you're eating your dinner, or the fear-filled gasps of the crowd when a flaming pole flies from its owners hands near to the feet of the crowd by accident and people start edging away. Some even pack up and leave, taking a final snap of the butter-fingered offender as they trapse reluctantly away.



We're off tomorrow on a boat trip around the island - if you don't know by now that I LIVE for boat trips around islands, then you should be aware that I have this annoying habit of gushing about them afterwards - so its an early-ish night tonight, soaking up the electrical thunderstorm that raises the hairs on Sam's legs and keeps me awake for hours after I've actually gone to bed. I'm kinda enamoured with Ko Phi Phi. Perhaps because Dan and Sarah are here? Perhaps because its so different (in the most touristy of ways) to the rest of our trip so far? Perhaps just because it really does have a magnetic, dazzling hold on you? I dunno. I like it a lot though.