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Tonsai Arrival
I was feeling blase when we arrived –– the changes we saw in Ao Nang: more tourists, more buildings, higher prices got me down, and the chore of looking for yet another 'home' in the baking heat, hauling 15 kilos of weight on my back (that's over 30 pounds) is not the picture culled in fantasies about arriving somewhere tropical and beautiful...
My mood was lifted when, as we waited for a longtail boat to ferry us over to Tonsai beach, we saw friends from Samui and Chiang Mai on Ao Nang's beach. John and Nyla were returning from Tonsai -- we were just going there. How serendipitous to run into them, how unfortunate to have missed them. It's a small world, where 2 Americans can accidentally meet 2 Brits on a beach in Thailand after having parted ways over 1 month prior without contact since.
Another chance encounter once we reached Tonsai: we came upon a small coffee shack on the lonely end of the beach. It was run by a man named Dam (pronounced Dom), whom we'd befriended 4 years earlier when we stayed in Ao Nang. Benjamin and he'd kept in touch through email over the years but had fallen out of contact in the last several. After the tsunami last year, Benjamin was dead set to find him when we returned to Southern Thailand. We didn't know where he was, or if he had survived, and voila! There he is. Even if you don't believe in 'signs', you must be thinking that all of this has to mean something. I did, and as we relaxed on the beach at Dam's coffee shop (drinking beer), a feeling of contentment washed over me as I took in the surroundings: monkeys taunting boatmen on the beach; a little boy pulling a brick tied to a string across the sand; rock climbers looking like ants on the enormous walls of limestone rock surrounding the beach; turquoise water sparkling in the sun...
I realized that on arrival, it was just one more arrival in many over the last year: they have become inconsequential. Such a shame! Having seen so many beautiful places and fascinating things packed so tightly together in such a short span of time, you become immune to the wonderment of the places you go. They lose their 'spark in the gut'... But I could see, once I settled in, how amazing it was, the place I'd just arrived. It's odd, that when you travel for a long period of time, the 'oohs and aaahs' that are normal upon arrival during shorter trips become reversed. On shorter trips, you stand agog in the place you have just arrived and then, after some time, it becomes 'ordinary'. You take the scenery for granted. But with long term travel, you take the scenery for granted at first and then, after time to settle in to the place, the 'oohs and aaaahs' come.
I watched the sun sink behind the last ocean wave visible and in a state of total happiness, I felt like time didn't exist. Damn the sun and the moon for reminding me that it does.
My mood was lifted when, as we waited for a longtail boat to ferry us over to Tonsai beach, we saw friends from Samui and Chiang Mai on Ao Nang's beach. John and Nyla were returning from Tonsai -- we were just going there. How serendipitous to run into them, how unfortunate to have missed them. It's a small world, where 2 Americans can accidentally meet 2 Brits on a beach in Thailand after having parted ways over 1 month prior without contact since.
Another chance encounter once we reached Tonsai: we came upon a small coffee shack on the lonely end of the beach. It was run by a man named Dam (pronounced Dom), whom we'd befriended 4 years earlier when we stayed in Ao Nang. Benjamin and he'd kept in touch through email over the years but had fallen out of contact in the last several. After the tsunami last year, Benjamin was dead set to find him when we returned to Southern Thailand. We didn't know where he was, or if he had survived, and voila! There he is. Even if you don't believe in 'signs', you must be thinking that all of this has to mean something. I did, and as we relaxed on the beach at Dam's coffee shop (drinking beer), a feeling of contentment washed over me as I took in the surroundings: monkeys taunting boatmen on the beach; a little boy pulling a brick tied to a string across the sand; rock climbers looking like ants on the enormous walls of limestone rock surrounding the beach; turquoise water sparkling in the sun...
I realized that on arrival, it was just one more arrival in many over the last year: they have become inconsequential. Such a shame! Having seen so many beautiful places and fascinating things packed so tightly together in such a short span of time, you become immune to the wonderment of the places you go. They lose their 'spark in the gut'... But I could see, once I settled in, how amazing it was, the place I'd just arrived. It's odd, that when you travel for a long period of time, the 'oohs and aaahs' that are normal upon arrival during shorter trips become reversed. On shorter trips, you stand agog in the place you have just arrived and then, after some time, it becomes 'ordinary'. You take the scenery for granted. But with long term travel, you take the scenery for granted at first and then, after time to settle in to the place, the 'oohs and aaaahs' come.
I watched the sun sink behind the last ocean wave visible and in a state of total happiness, I felt like time didn't exist. Damn the sun and the moon for reminding me that it does.
posted by Cheryn at 2:58 PM
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