I went to San Francisco with no flowers in my hair
With all the beats inside my head I really didn’t care
For miles and miles my car did drive
Thirteen hours on Highway 5
You might ask why oh why did I
Take a trip for just one night?
‘Cause life’s a blink and I might die
Before I get another try
To dance and jam and rock and such
With the Glitch Mob, baby,
PASS THAT DUTCH!
The brochure did not mention the eels.
I signed up for underground rivers, rappelling down a deep, dark, hourglass-shaped hole in the earth, green constellations of glowworms, squeezing under waterfalls along the cave wall, ziplining to rock ledges, the lingering spirits of Ruakiri and the ancient Maori chiefs, water up to my neck and the cave roof mere inches over my head, inching my way through holes with names like “Birth”, and climbing up waterfalls to find a way out- but eels? Eels? There are two things in the world I fear: the dentist, and eels. I had even avoided the proudly advertised “tame eels” in random restaurant/eel petting zoos around the country. Welcome to New Zealand.
But as I wade chest-deep through the flowing river two hundred feet below the surface at the Waitomo Glow Worm Caves on the north island, I begin to doubt my decision to sign up for the most extreme Black Abyss Adventure with the Legendary Black Water Rafting Company. Why couldn’t I have gone skydiving in Taupo, jet boating in Queenstown, or hang gliding in Christchurch? New Zealand is so full of adventure sports options, you must prioritize your adrenaline rushes and pick and choose how you will experience the Land of the Long White Cloud. Though I had selected black water rafting because it was an experience unique to New Zealand, I had also literally submerged myself in the only option that would truly make my heart squirm with fear.
I try to brush away the hideous thought of the cave eels (much as they were brushing along my thighs) and concentrated on my ‘cave snack’ of chocolate and steaming hot orange juice, which is surprisingly comforting when surrounded by the apple green glow worms- though cave insiders know what they are really admiring on the cavern’s ceiling is actually phosphorescent maggot feces. The term “glow worm” is just so much more romantic. The three hours spent underground in Ruakiri Cave are unlike any others in my life. This is no walk-through, look-at-the-stalactites caving experience. This is raw, cold, exhausting, and you might just look up that waterfall to the cave exit and doubt you can climb up through it. But you will, and you will emerge back out of the earth changed forever. Beware though: the brochure does not mention the eels.
Friends ask where my next trip will take me, and when I answer “Detroit!” with a bounce in my voice and a twinkle in my eye, I am met with a perplexed look of confusion, skepticism, and pity.
“WHY THE HELL would you go to Detroit?” they ask, like I just booked a trip to Guantanamo Bay, bought tickets on a cruise to Somalia or reserved a room for a month in a Mexican border town.
For music, of course. I sure as hell am not going there to buy a freaking Ford. Along with New Orleans, Detroit is one of the grand epicenters of American musical history, and from the Motown legends who once graced the gritty streets of the industrial center to the techno pioneers who led us from the dust of disco to the raging international electronic music community of today, anyone who has ever so much as bobbed their heads to a sick minimal beat owes the dirty city a nod.
Movement, or the Detroit Electronic Music Festival takes place every year on Memorial Weekend and draws tens of thousands of people to Hart Plaza in downtown Detroit to do more than bob their heads- they straight get down, to some of the most cutting edge electronic music in the world. Not just techno, either, but a Hummer-size serving of electronic genres: house, glitch hop, ambient, IDM, dubstep, electro…the list goes on and on, ‘til the break of dawn, pretty much.
Most festival attendees will be flying or driving up for the weekend and spending the whole time at the party, dragging themselves off to their hotel rooms at the end of the night (or morning) only to score a quick disco nap before heading off again into the beat maze. But there ARE things to do around the Detroit area outside of the music festival, if you find yourself with a free afternoon (ha) or a late departure. The Motown Historical Museum sounds superfluous but is really shackalicious: the small, shingled recording studio where the hits were made and stars like Marvin Gaye sang their soulful tunes from 1957 to 1972. The IMAX at the New Detroit Science Center is always fun but beware: the flying sensation on a hungover brain and belly is not the best experience. If a big greasy meal is more in order, head up to the restaurant at the top of the GM Renaissance Center for a fine view of the Motor City that stretches all the way to Canada. Or if you are into fine arts…
Ah who am I kidding…you guys will be crawling between the dance floors with your orange juice and cigarettes. See you there.
Photo by westerntragedy.
On my street they sell life,
Prices written in chalk on small black boards
Every day (except Monday)
The wares are laid out,
Polished and placed next to shiny ripe eggplants and crimson apples
Stacked into produce pyramids
Bought by the handful of eager pedestrians
Sandwiched between smelly mold-covered goat cheese (the best in France)
And rolling by bottles of gem-red wine
Here is where life does its dance
Pain d’épices and piles of spices
Near the butcher who thinly slices
All sorts of collections of lamb, beef and rabbit
The fishmonger piles it
On top of the scallops and urchins
It’s nestled between pink roses, blue daisies, and orange sunflowers
But smells sweeter yet than that
This life walks slowly, listening
To the rush of the fountain
Feels soft angora sweaters
Gazes over tables piled high with 4 euro handbags
“Mirabelles! Les plus belles!”
Every day (except Monday)
They sell life on my street
But you can never buy it.
Written in October 2008
One final time I write to you from the glorious beaches of Thailand. My last evening and morning here progressed in the slow, musical rhythym of the islands that I have quickly grown accustomed to and fallen in love with; a swirling mix of beaches, blue drinks, fresh food, laughter, coconut oil, salty hair, crashing waves, fireworks, and smiles. I am so sad to leave, but will be so happy to be home. I long to look once more into the eyes of the friends I love, to dance with you and to cheers with you and to celebrate life with you.
There is so much I have experienced my three weeks here in Thailand that I have not written to you and can only hope to remember myself. Like the people walking around with gibbons and eagles on their arms, hawking photos for $5. How soup is sold in plastic bags. When you are getting a Thai massage, ‘OW!’ means, “harder please”- ‘OY’ means stop. How I was riding along in a tuk-tuk in Bangkok, wondering why all the barbed wire across the road and riot police, and then realizing I was driving by the 
Thai Parliament Building, site of all the protests that left hundreds wounded and some dead. How I have run into very, very few Americans at all. How the whole country freezes at 6PM to listen to the national anthem. The sound of the Thai language in my ears. How some toilets here don’t flush- you just rinse them down. Cows riding in backs of pickups. Restaurant tables set up between train tracks. Corn in a cup as a popular snack. Hotdog pizza. Sanuk.
Sanuk is a Thai phrase that means fun, or enjoyment, and this idea permeates every aspect of life and every action in this beautiful land. Thais believe that everything you do in life should be filled with sanuk, not only if you are vacationing but also if you are washing dishes, or helping a friend, or waiting in an airport. I really like this idea and try to live it, and will try even harder. Sanuk is where it’s at.
They also have a saying here: Same same but different, which seems to apply in almost every situation you find yourself in. It is true- outside of America you may order a Big Mac and a Coke, but it will taste completely different from those at home. Same same but different. It applies to people all over the world, from a young Thai girl playing with a snorkel to a loud Aussie party kid to an old British couple eating breakfast to a girl from Seattle pecking away on a keyboard. We are all same same, but different.
Life is so incredibly colorful here, much more so than in the US. Boats, houses, restaurants, clothing- all are splashed in the beautiful brightness of the tropics, as if they are reflecting the flowers and birds and bugs themselves. Blue, orange, yellow, pink, red, purple- with no apologies. Life seems more passionate here, as if it is infected by the sunny climate and warm ocean water, and has no choice but to be happy. People smile more and laugh more. Life is slower, and more deliberate.
When your eyes are filled each day with plants and animals and vistas you have never seen before, it refreshes your soul in a way that nothing else can. There is a reason it is called the ‘travel bug.’ Before you travel, you do not know what you are missing out here. But after that first trip, something grabs a hold of you and will not let go. It will not let go of me; I am a life-long addict with no desire to be cured.
Every time I travel I am filled with a renewed gratitude for my life, my home, my family, my friends, and myself. I love Seattle now more than I ever have before, especially for the people and music who make up the electronic community- we really have something special, you guys. You don’t just stumble across that shit anywhere. You must cultivate it, and we are doing that, and we will continue, and it is just going to get better and richer and deeper. The music pumping out of speakers every night in our city trumps anything I have found out here; I wander into clubs and wonder, is this the music that people who don’t listen to music listen to? Because for the most part, it really sucks. Granted, I am not traveling in Berlin or San Fran or Montreal, but I am homesick for our music scene.
I have had many homes in this world since I left my parents’ house at 18 and went out into the world: Austin, Maine, Paris, New Zealand- but none have meant as much to me as Seattle does right now. I have almost-tears in my eyes writing this, 
I am so overwhelmed with love for my world. This trip has inspired me, of course, to do new things and retry old things in my life. I must plan another trip as soon as possible. I need a major move, next spring, there is something boiling inside of me that I can’t yet put my finger on. I am enamoured of Southeast Asia and want to go to Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos. I want to get my bicycle fixed and ride it. I want to start sketching and drawing again, I have the skills but not the patience for it, and it would be a good way for me to learn the virtue. I want to cook more, especially Thai food. And as always, I need to slow the hell down. Slow down, Shilo.
In Thailand everything seems more potent, perhaps just because I am traveling, but the bananas taste more banana-y, the sun seems hotter, the nights seem darker. I feel more like Shilo than ever before, I feel I am more me than I ever have been. Even sharing this with you is proof of a newfound sense of strength and sensual sureness of myself and my world. I am a loner, which might strike some of you who know me as the epic party-girl as odd, 
but it is true. I never mind being alone, I enjoy my company. However this trip, much of which was spent with new friends, has reaffirmed that yes, life is more fun when shared with other people. Dammit. Time to trim in my loner ways and my nature of being independent to a fault.
Sharing my adventures with you through this blog has made my trip so much better; funny how we all affect each other that way. This world is so so small. I have never blogged before on a trip, though I have always kept a journal, and I have found the blogging experience so inspiring. From thousands 
of miles away you have made my trip to Thailand more fun, more rich, more real. I have loved sharing it with you; your comments as always put a song right into my soul that seeps out of me for days and gets shared with everyone I meet in the form of positive energy, of smiles, of a bounce in my step. Thank you so much for reading; it truly has added a layer to my trip that I have never experienced before, and I now will always blog wherever I travel.
In just a few hours I begin my long journey home from the other side of the earth. I fly from Ko Samui to Bangkok (1 hour), have a six hour layover, fly to Seoul (5 hours), have a 12 hour layover and then a 12 hour flight to Seattle. That is a hell of a lot of time to think. I will return to you a different person, afterall, that
is what ‘tripping’ does, and if the travel gods and party gods continue to smile on me, I will see you on a dance floor soon with a fat grin on my face and a smile in my eyes.
Reason # 9287 to travel: To go home.
For now, I go- where else?- to the beach, for one more slice of paradise. Mai ko puun kah,
Shilo
Austin is one of the coolest cities in the world. The music scene is insane whether you are into rock, jazz, electronica or honky tonk; the people are chilled out but with that overtly friendly southern sassiness (darlin’) and the food, well, the food is absolutely Tex-mexifantastical- I dream about those taco vans every night.
Though the alterna-energy and good vibes radiating from the hot streets of the city are fed by the massive student population of the University of Texas, Austin is much, much more than a college town. It is a tiny liberal island in a vast conservative sea; a counterculture holdout echoing with the guitar wails of Janis Joplin and Stevie Ray Vaughn; a swirling, colorful home to freaks of all sorts who every day live the city’s motto and KEEP AUSTIN WEIRD.
So you are going to my town? Here’s what to do:
• Spend big bucks and stay in the Driskill Hotel, which was built in 1888 and lost by its original cattle baron owner in a poker game. Its stained glass dome and marble floors are haunted by various vendetta-seeking ghosts and you can practically smell the Texas riches that have passed through the halls; it is the aroma of fine leather, expensive cigars, and lots and lots of oil money. The Driskill is in the middle of downtown; valet your hybrid and head out into the night.
• Of course you will go to Sixth Street on the weekend and experience the firey strip of musical craziness which is often compared to New Orleans’ infamous Bourbon Street. The downtown lane, within walking distance to the University, is always packed with students, locals, travelers, musicians, and artists living it up and having a few drinks. The density of bars and clubs makes it easy to fill your ears with a wide variety of music genres and discover new sounds and bands. Sixth Street goes off each March during the South By Southwest Music Festival and on Halloween, when three to four hundred thousand revelers in outlandish costumes mob the area for a masquerade cavalcade, an open-to-all parade of partyers.
• The Green Belt runs through southern Austin, an eight-mile long creek bed sided with lush green vegetation and tall cliffs of white limestone. There are many ways to access the Belt and secret niches exist all along the water’s path for enjoying the outdoors smack in the middle of the city. Cut out of traffic on South Lamar Street and in just a few minutes you will be hiking around surrounded by green. Bring an inner tube and drift along the slow-moving river like a lazy cowboy, do some freehand rock climbing, or bust out the guitar and get down under the stars.
• Have an espresso at Ruta Maya, a coffeehouse on South Congress which imports organic, shade-grown beans from sustainable farms in Latin America. Enjoy the poetry readings, open-mike music nights, parrot-performers and free yoga classes along with the fact that you are helping create economic viability for neighboring communities south of the border.
• Eeyore’s Birthday Party is Austin’s annual spring festival to celebrate the happy day of the silly donkey from Winnie the Pooh, a pagan fertility party where anything goes. Dress in costume, bring your pet python and one-man-band-get-up, and get ready for all manner of random fun. Have a pretend tea party with your friends, put together a giant puzzle with pieces as big as the Texas flag, dance around a maypole, beat your djembes in the nonstop drum circle, twirl some fire and have your Tarot cards read.
• Pick up a free copy of the Austin Chronicle and read it on the ‘Six-Pack’ at the University of Texas. The big grassy lawn is in the middle of campus and surrounded by six symmetrical halls of study, a.k.a. the Six-Pack. Behind you is the University Tower, whose observation deck was only recently reopened to the public for viewing; in front of you is downtown Austin, the State Capitol Building, and a fountain of bronze horses that is prophecied to come to life just as soon as a virgin student walks by.
• Thousands and thousands of bats fly out from under Congress Bridge in the summertime (March through November; this is Texas) around dusk. The north side of the bridge is the best place to catch the bat-blanket that fills the sky, swooping upward in twisting columns up into the night.
• Go to The Drag and hang out. Otherwise known as Guadalupe (say GWA-duh-loop), this strip of bars, coffeeshops, record stores, funky clothing and vintage boutiques, college bookstores, student travel agencies and smoke shops separates the huge University of Texas campus and “West Campus,” or the Greek area. This is a good side of Austin to wander around if you are looking for a party on Friday night- you’ll find one. Have fun with the drag rats (pierced-up kids from local middle class families, mostly) and keep an eye out for the drive-through beer barn which promises to accept “all of Daddy’s credit cards.”
• The Texas State Capitol is the largest state capitol in the United States and is even taller than the Capitol Building in Washington D.C. after which it was modeled. It is made out of sunset-red granite which glows a warm pink as the light falls on an Austin evening and is the sight of many-a-protest from the progressive urban population of the city.
• Kerbey Lane Cafe serves fresh-as-life wholesome food grown from their own gardens. More a community than a cafe, Kerbey Lane is the city’s morning-after institution and receives raves both vegans and steak-lovers alike: so very, very, Austin.
• Barton Springs keeps Austinites from melting like ice cream cones during those weeks when the temperature hangs out at a hundred every day. The Springs fresh bubbles are a constant 68 degrees, year round. The swimming hole is located in Zilker Park which is the place for a Sunday afternoon game of ultimate Frisbee, hours-long picnics with neo-hippie friends, train rides with the kids, and antics on the playground. Zilker is also home to the legendary Moontower from the cult classic film Dazed and Confused, shot in Austin with local drag rat Wiley Wiggins. Party at the Moontower!
Austin photo by Kumar Appaiah.
Have you ever wondered what wildflower fudge might taste like? How about a bunny burger? Venison tongue? Larvae ice cream? If you like to taste your adventures, you live to eat, and you have an iron-clad stomach, then get thee to Hokitika, New Zealand for the annual Wildfoods Festival.
Hokitika
Hokitika is a tiny, beautiful town in the middle of the wild, cold, wet, and did I say wild? West Coast of the southern island of New Zealand. Billed as the “Greenstone (New Zealand Jade) Capital of the World,” the oceanside town is not much more than a few cute espresso shops and a beach reputed to wash up jade along the shore. But every spring over 15,000 travelers, tourists, locals, and freaks descend upon the village to put their mouth where their money is and eat all manner of cuisine from the forests, farmland, and ocean waters of New Zealand.
Lunchtime!
The crazy festival (any festival in on the South Island is going to be straight crazy) is not only a celebration of the bounty of the land, but also a festival of libation and a shout-out to the pioneering spirit of the land. Had the early gold-rushers and Maori before them not eaten huhu grubs and paua (abalone) fritters, the West Coast may not ever have been settled and Hokitika might not exist.
The Wildfoods Festival takes place this year on Saturday March 8; besides all manner of food flora and fauna there will also be plenty of music, activities for children, cooking demonstrations and live performances. The real attraction, though, is the menu. How many would YOU try?
• lamb’s tails
• whitebait fritters (whitebait are very small fish, sold in pint jars)
• horse, bunny, and dolphin burgers
• elderflower champagne
• grilled mutton bird (a New Zealand sea bird)
• worm truffles
• deep fried crickets, wasps, beetles, and grasshoppers
• eels on lettuce with cream cheese
• mussel kebabs
• fish eyes
• Viagra slushy (a wild food? perhaps)
• duck giblets
• crocodile and kangaroo
• huhu grubs (New Zealand grubworms)
• deep fried shark
• rose petal wine
• mountain oysters (sheep’s testicles)
How many would you try? Here from behind my lovely laptop screen I say I will try them all- but find me in Hokitika and see how gustatorially brave I am then!
Hokitika Beach
Hokitika is a great stop along the west coast any time of the year- in fact, I would definitely recommend staying in Hokitika over Greymouth, Westport, or at Punakaiki (the Pancake Rocks). It is a much more interesting town with better restaurants and the best shopping for Greenstone along the west coast. Enjoy the beach and keep an eye out for New Zealand jade!
Written in October 2008
Last night I had a blast! I hopped on a songtaew (aka glorified pick-up truck) to Chaweng Beach, the place where all the action is on Ko Samui. You can rent jet skis, go parasailing, ride a banana boat- this is where dreams come true.
Chaweng Beach
My dream came true in the form of a cheeseburger last night- oh it was SO good. I have eaten more Western food than I should have on this trip and more than I ever do while traveling, hamburgers especially. I have eaten more hamburgers in Thailand than I have in previous year combined- maybe two. The Thai food is fresh and fantastic, but eating Thai food three times a day for three weeks- it gets a little old. This cheeseburger was fantastic, served with grilled onions, actual pickles, and cloth napkins instead of the standard toilet paper. Turns out the restaurant’s chef was Australian- so that explained the immense goodness of this hamburger, which inspired me to write a whole freaking paragraph. Geez. FREAKIN’ TOURIST!
This Dog just stood there frozen for about 20 minutes
Chaweng Beach is a bit like Haat Rin Beach (the Full Moon Party beach) in the sense that it is very colorful and festive, with lights, fires, music, dancing, flaming lanterns set off into the starry sky, bouncing bars, restaurants, and young people all up and down, looking to have fun and party. The beach itself is absolutely gorgeous and the water just pulls you in- I can’t seem to walk by without jumping in for a swim. I think every meal I have eaten here on the islands has been right on the beach- and you can’t ask for a better setting than that.
Gassoline for your Scooter!
After dinner I had a bit of time before the 11 o’clock ladyboy show, so I wandered up to the main street which was filled with souvenir shops, manky dogs, food carts and taxi drivers. The action all seemed to be down the side streets; I turned down one and heard a boom: “PUT YOUR HANDS UP FOR DETROIT!”
I will ALWAYS put my hands up for Detroit, I don’t care WHAT motherfucking continent I am on! The beats led to the Hardcore Bar which looked cool but the one next door boasted FREE POOL and had three empty tables for my girlfriends and me. Outside this
Buddhist Altars for Offerings
bar was a colorful Buddhist shrine, the likes of which you see at almost every house, hotel, bar, or restaurant in Thailand. Thais put offerings on the shrine, like a plastic bag of fried rice or maybe some pineapple. This one had a Fanta, some cigarillos, and two shots of dark liquor. Given the Buddhist admonition of drinking, I thought this was pretty funny. We went in to play the free pool.
I ordered a Sex on the Beach and was surprised to see it delivered blue. Weird, I thought, until I noticed it was a 7 year-old mixing drinks under the watchful eye of dear-old dad; her 9 year-old brother was shaking them up with a verve I have seldom seen behind a bar. I thought the father could at least take the time to teach proper drink mixology, but then I noticed he was too busy instructing his children how to dirty dance. I’m talking one leg up, humping the wall with the spanking hand move- you know you know it. The little boy was catching on quickly though the girl seemed to prefer the super-fast ass shake. With these skills they will get on just fine in this world.
Travel Pro Tip: Always book a pimp hotel the last night of your trip!
My friends will think it’s weird that I was ordering a Sex on the Beach; I almost always and only drink vodka and never order frou-frou shit like Blue Hawaiians or Pina Coladas. Never. I never even order Margaritas, which my bartender friends (my many, many bartender friends and I love you all! Shout out!) will attest to. But the tropical sun goes to my brain and frou-frou is all that I want and all that I order. Rums and fruit juices please, no vodka here. I can’t figure out if it is really weird or really normal.
The free pool in the bar had distracted me from the awful music emanating from its speakers. Have you ever been in a club and heard Celine Dion, Mariah Carey, Bryan Adams and then ‘Eye of the Tiger’? No, you haven’t, because if you had you would have run right out and killed yourself, which is what I thought about doing. Thank Buddha it was time for the ladyboy show.
These Chicks Got DOWN
Ladyboys are like drag queens except HOLY GOD they look like women. Some have boobs, most have tucked it away, and all have an exaggerated femininity that no female I know could get away with. They were really really good; I saw Cher and Kylie Minogue and Tina Turner. They were beautiful. The guys in the audience were feeling a bit uncomfortable and the girls in the audience were just jealous of their outfits.
Ladyboys
I have mad respect for people who will be who they are, even if that person is not who they should be. In Thailand ladyboys are the accepted third gender, and it is really cool to be in a place that is so tolerant. Tina Turner began her act as a wo-man and then through the act took off her dress, eyelashes, wig, and makeup and traded them for men’s clothes and there before us stood a ma-an. Wow. Complete woman to complete man. It makes you rethink what exactly gender is.
All the performers were insanely passionate and I found myself relating to them as a
Chaweng Beach
dancer- they were about as into it as anyone ever has been. The ladyboys were having a blast, and I love to see people having fun. Some dancers did verge on the brink of scary skinny as they tried to tame their muscley shoulders and man hips by a lack of sustenance, which made me very grateful for my natural womanly shape. Or as one of the premier performers and lyricists of this century calls it: my humps, my humps, my lovely lady lumps.
(And if you guys don’t know I am joking by now, I am going to need more than a Blue Hawaiian). It was a fantastic show full of feathers, sequins, and sass, and it makes me want to give the drag queen shows in Seattle another try.
Sleepy Puppy
Today I have been lazy and just messing around at the beach and pool. I am now staying on Chaweng Beach which is a lot of fun, noisy and crazy. The planes zooming loudly overhead every hour or so (LIKE RIGHT THIS SECOND! WOW!) are a blatant reminder that tomorrow, I will be on one.
But not yet- for now, I hit the beach. AGAIN. If I was planning to stay here much longer, my blog would get pretty boring! Or maybe simple is a better word, and that is why people come here- to simplify their existance, if just for a week or two.
Much love Seattle! I will put my hands up for you too!
Written in October 2008
Waiting for the Ferry
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh life is good on Ko Samui.
I arrived here yesterday afternoon from Ko Tao on a slick high-speed catamaran ferry with AC, a movie, snacks and everything, then had a short ride to Bo Phut beach, one of the quieter and prettier beaches on the island. I hit the beach immediately and finished my 4th book of the trip, Memoires of a Geisha. All the hostels have book exchanges, so you just bring one on your trip and then trade it in when you are done. This bookworm has lucked out with some good ones so far: The Beach, The Time Traveler’s Wife, and About a Boy; unfortunately the only book in English OR French I could find to trade next at this place is The Awakening, which is the legend of a Vampiress and looks pretty stupid. Oh well, I will give it a go.
Hungry?
Last night after happy hour (a banana milkshake and a Bloody Mary) I enjoyed traditional Thai barbeque for dinner. Mr. Poo’s barbeque, to be exact. It was the crack; all-you-can-eat for 99 baht ($2.89). You have a burner on your table on top of live coals; the burner has little slits in it to let the heat out and then they put a big lump of lard on top to drip down as it melts and keep the fire going. All around the raised grill is a doughnut of almost-boiling water, and this is where you make your soup. You go up to get your choice of meats and veggies; I counted 27 different meats including bacon, chicken, calamari, liver, prawns, octopus, and a hell of a lot of mystery meat that I could not identify.
Bo Phut Beach
You pick up veggies etc. for your soup- garlic chives, parsley, chopped garlic, bean sprouts, glass noodles, whole eggs, plus tons more and then you sit down with your friends and go to town. While you wait for your meats to cook you can munch on all you want of Phud Thai, fried rice, spring rolls, French fries, dumplings, and several other dishes as well as fresh tropical fruits and green salad. I love when the meal is cooked right on the table; it is fun and at Mr. Poos’s, the food was fantastic.
After the grilled meats and soup came all-you-can-eat ice cream: Shilo heaven. It was silly
Life sucks, obviously
hot sitting next to the burners in the open-air restaurant; I had two servings of ice cream along with a large Chang. Chang is the PBR of Thailand; the word ‘Chang’ means elephant in the Thai language and all the Thais joke that the beer is really elephant piss. The Thai BBQ dinner was my favorite I have eaten thus far, along with the meals at the homestay up north.
Today I got up early to catch a sweet speedboat over to Ang Thong National Marine Park, about a thirty minute ride. The day has been overcast and a bit rainy, and the trip over was choppy and really fun- I adore boats of any kind and do not get seasick. There are heaps of islands dotted around the tropical sea, jutting violently up out of the ocean; under the cloudy sky the sea was a slate-blue carpet of rolling glass.
An Thong National Marine Park
It was the kind of day whose realness smacks you in the face, a day that lets you know without a doubt you are alive. The white-purple clouds above me had seams on them from where they had lifted off the ocean; here and there the rain drops would materialized and sting my cheeks (because I was in the front of the boat, of course). The wind was so strong if you opened your mouth it would blow the spit right out of it- a bit like being at the dentist with the water and air pick going at you. The trip was a blast, like a roller coaster, only real. In Thailand when they tell you to hold on, or jump, or watch your step, they are not freaking joking and they aren’t just saying it so they won’t get sued. They mean it. HOLD ON.
The boat’s first stop was on a neighboring island for a snorkel dip. I jumped in and promptly bashed my big toe on a tall coral rock; it was really cool to have a bleeding
The wet season arrives
appendage in shark-infested waters. Snorkeling here was different than Ko Tao and just as neat- tons of inky black sea urchins with hundreds of foot-long spikes, dumb-looking goober fish that looked like a box of fluorescent-colored crayons had been left out in the sun and melted together, smiley-eyed pufferfish, and near-transparent jellyfish everywhere. EVERYWHERE. I wasn’t just swimming with jellyfish, I was swimming in jellyfish soup! From pea size to fist size, they were all over and around me, though they didn’t bite much and the stings I received didn’t hurt too bad; aka no one had to pee on me.
The next stop was on a sandy strip of beach in the national park for a little sea kayaking. The rain that had been mostly holding off all day let loose in a torrential downpour, and as I paddled out towards the island we were to kayak around, I was thinking: really? However it all turned out well and fun; the rain in my eyes was a bit cold and annoying but the waves that washed over me were blankety-warm. Paddle paddle paddle.
As Sharp as Knives!
We hung tight in the rain near the island whose cliffed edges had been eaten away at the bottom by the water, giving us little caves to chill out and catch a breath in- but the rocks were as sharp as knives and would cut you fast if you forgot and used your hand instead of your oar to fend off. It was quite the ride getting around the island with the ferocious wind, waves, and rain, but once I was around the other side I saw the home beach, the wind turned in my favor, and I glided back to the shore with tired arms and a happy face. Lunch was (what else?) Phad Thai, rice, Tom Yum soup, sweet and sour chicken, fried chicken, pineapple, watermelon, and water. Ar Oy! (Delicious!).
The Green Lagoon
The next stop in the national marine park was a small hike to an overlook of a jade-green lagoon in the middle of awesome grey-black cliffs, filled with darting fish as well as a few gawking tourists. Most of the waters here are a translucent jade color, but the hue seemed more dense here in this captured lagoon, and the fish were speedy little devils that reminded me of pirahna. Beautiful.
I am now back on my beach and planning to visit Chaweng Beach tonight (the nightlife hotspot of the island) for a ladyboy show and to shop at the night market. And dinner, of course. But not before another swim on my beach in my ocean in my world. It is yours too, you know. You should come say hi and jump in. The water is fantastic.
Until tomorrow, and everybody in Seattle go to the Eprom show! *jealous*
Shilo
Written in October 2008
I write from the spectacular island of Ko Tao, a little gem only 45 square kilometers, beautiful and very sedate compared to wild Ko Pha Ngan. The island is ringed not with a
Ko Tao
road but with giant rounded boulders and a brilliant blue surf, topped with lush green palm trees and thatched bungalows. Most of the island can only be reached by boat or ATV. There is one main beach with one little thoroughfare which is a sidewalk and a road all at once. Watch out for those scooters! Beep beep!
Ko Tao has some of the best diving and snorkeling in the world and is the second most popular place to get certified to SCUBA dive (the first is somewhere around Australia’s Great Barrier Reef). The whole island is powered by generators and completely shuts down November to December for the rainy season. I had a taste of the impending wet yesterday after breakfast when a massive rainstorm flooded the one street, making it a rushing river under 3-4 inches of water.
Snorkeling!
It was a deluge of crazy, heavy, bouncing rain for about ten minutes- then it stopped completely, and the rest of the day was a crystal-clear perfect sunny day of blue skies.
I am not here long enough for the four day course in SCUBA and am in fact waiting at the port right now to catch a ferry to anolther island, Ko Samui. But I did spend all day yesterday snorkeling in pristine waters, submerging myself in another world, a fish world. Fluorescent fish stared at me, long silver barracudas darted by my legs, and bright golden jellyfish the size of half of my pinkie drifted along with two even smaller fish for company. Huge schools of tiny shimmering minnow-like fish washed over me, making me feel like I
*Sigh*
was flying more than anything on earth has (with maybe the exception of skydiving). Lumpy, prickly sea cucumbers did nothing on the sea floor, miniscule glowing blue fish darted around yellow and purple coral, anemones pulsed with the waves, tiger fish came right up to my mask to inspect this weird-looking sea creature and ever so often, a shark would drift by. Not a Great White, mind you, only about two meters long- but still a startling sight in the open sea! I suppose they were reef sharks but I didn’t ask them. Either way I can now brag about swimming with sharks! I swam with sharks!
Pan Pan
I spent the whole beautiful day yesterday on a long blue and orange boat, diving into different areas of underwater wildlife and coral reef, stopping only for lunch and a banana-coconut milkshake. Now when you are me, it doesn’t matter if you spend all day long applying and reapplying sunscreen, and I did- you still get burned if you are lounging for hours in the tropical sun. Having a lobster back makes carrying my pack a bit difficult- luckily I have just a 2-3 hour ferry ride to Ko Samui, and that’s it- back to the beach and the ocean.
Beautiful
Ko Tao has to be one of the most beautiful islands on earth- a sedate, sleepy place with little more than dive shops and crepe carts. I toasted the sunset on top of the island last night then went for barbeque. Ko Samui is another party mecca and I will be glad to experience the difference between the islands once again.
I am not sure what day or date it is, my computer says 9:10 AM, and I am guessing Thursday or Friday or Saturday.
Much love to everyone,
Shilo
One more!
WORLDROMPER 