Decision, Indecision, Decision, Indecision...

March 10, 2011

We managed to get everything worked out yesterday so that we’d be able to leave Sanur. This included getting a SIM card for Ryan’s phone and getting millions out of the bank as Lembongan has no ATM – I thought the whole point of getting a bank account was to avoid walking around with this much cash!

The Super Scoot shuttle picked us up at our guesthouse at 9:00 a.m. and scooted us on over to the Super Scoot office where I picked up our boat tickets, then scooted us over to the beach area where these boats depart. We boarded the Super Scoot which is a dual hull speed boat which gives the feeling of getting into a large bathtub. All the furnishings inside are green and give everything a Kermit-ish tinge. The crossing took 30 minutes and was not uncomfortable, though I did note that I want to remember to take a seasickness tablet for the longer crossing to Gili.

As Tulamben was a great antidote to PP, Lembongan is a great antidote to Sanur. I am not sure how I will ever re-integrate into civilization when I can’t stand the noises of society. Super Scoot took us to a hotel I had preselected from the Lonely Planet and the internet, which as luck had it, was of course full. A random man took me to a random guesthouse 30 meters away which turned out to be as lovely as the place we had in Tulamben, for the same price. Again, beautifully airy room with high ceilings, wooden furniture, a comfortable bed (the beds in Indo are a huge improvement over the beds in Thailand and especially over our crappy bed at Valentine). There is a swimming pool with a nice deck for sunbathing or reading.

After settling into our new room, Ryan went to borrow a bucket from the guesthouse so that we might do some very much needed laundry. Chores out of the way, we set off to find food and explore.

We found a restaurant overlooking the water, a little bit funky of a vibe and we sat down, famished. The scenery was great, but the food was not. I was very disappointed.

March 13, 2011

We have spent 4 very enjoyable days on Lembongan. For two days we walked for one day we dove and today, packing and relaxing.

Our walks have taken us over a good part of the island, which is substantially larger than I’d imagined. The first day we walked probably 8 or so kilometers from our little bungalow to Mushroom Beach. It took a good 3 hours round trip, stopping along the way, of course to take pictures. Our second day walk took us to Mangrove Beach, which overlooks, well Mangroves. On the way we passed pigs and men unloading telephone poles from a boat sans machinery.

Lembongan is covered in seaweed farming. Looking out at the shallows, you can see grids of seaweed laid out underwater. And on land, again, mats and mats of seaweed drying in the sun. Locals tend and sort and ship so that all this might end up in beauty products and vitamin pills for Japanese and Westerners.

As we’ve walked around, we’ve seen lots of playing children, smiling children and I must say I’ve been surprised a few times by children yelling “Give me money.” When compared to Cambodia or the Philippines, this is not a poor island and it strikes me strange that children would be sent to pander. I’ve noticed that children will also ask you to take their picture, in exchange for money. On our first walk, we passed a group of young boys playing with a ball and one screamed as though having a temper tantrum over and over, “give me money, give me money.” While I can imagine that seeing children of Cambodia pandering outside Angkor Wat would be heartbreaking, these young boys had the opposite effect on me. I felt more like asking them if they were taking the piss.

Balinese women carry things on their heads – in fact, it seems to be the preferred method of carrying just about anything. I did not mention before, I don’t know why, but we were very amused (and incredibly awed) in Tulamben when we saw them carrying completely assembled scuba units on their heads. And I failed to take pictures of this. Baskets of fruits, tubs of washing, bucket of chicken, whatever, it goes on the head. We learned later that Westerners had convinced the locals to stop fishing out the reefs and smartly employed the same people to be tank caddies for the dive industry.

As you all know (in probably much greater detail than us, having access to good internet and a TV), a massive earthquake struck Japan, sending a ten-meter tsunami to ravage the east coast of said country. Ryan and I watched a few moments of the events unfold on Bahasa CNN prior to our meal at our favorite Warung and I have to say that I had a moment of feeling very uncomfortable as I wondered what impact this might have on us here on this tiny island, having no idea where the closest high point might be short of running up the mountain. Ryan accessed the internet through his phone at about the same time that the tsunami should have been hitting eastern Indonesia. I believe that there was more damage on the western coast of the United States than in Indo.

Yesterday, we went diving. And finally I got my manta moment. We spent 72 minutes with manta rays swooping over our heads as we hung out at their feeding station. Very pretty coral below held no interest as we watched these behemoth rays dance around us. Maybe a few pictures are worth a thousand words...















The first dive had some very pretty corals, but was not really fishtastic. It did yield some new interesting critters though. Of note – a crocodilefish and a spiny devilfish and some teeny tiny little catfish and a dwarf moray (guess who's who). We might have to come back for Mola Mola season in a couple of months.








After many meals in Bali and a disappointing first meal on Lembongan, I was starting to think that food in Indonesia was mediocre at best and incredibly expensive. Admittedly, when we first arrived with Andy, we were a bit on holiday mode – having 3 course meals with beer and fruit shakes. But even after Andy left and we decided to become a bit more reasonable, food was still costing us a lot. But finally, on our way back from our first walk, we found a little Warung at the end of our street that serves quite a decent meal and a very reasonable price and suddenly we’ve seen our bills drop from 120K per meal to about 150K per day. Tonight we will try the Warung across the street which is well reputed as well.

Tomorrow off to Gili where it might be time to do a bit of work…

March 20, 2011

We’ve been on Gili almost a week. The first few days I was grumpy from being sick yet again. I can’t seem to kick this – whatever this is. Gili is our work destination – where we feel we have the best chances of finding a job. The Gili Islands are three tiny pieces of land that fall off the western side of Lombok like tears. There is Gili Air, Meno and Trawangan. We have landed on the largest of the three – Gili T.

You could walk between the islands and then to Lombok, they are that close. But don't try swimming it, the current rips between the channels something fierce and apparently every so often some stupid tourist dies trying. So Gili T overlooks the other two and in the distance the spectacular hills of Lombok. The water is so blue and clean and clear. Close to shore it is turquoise, then it turns a deep royal blue – I’ve already asked Ryan to go collect me samples. Like PP, there are no motorized vehicles, but it is so much more peaceful than PP. I’ve yet to get grumbly walking down the street. There are lots of bicycles, but they have more room to maneuver so are not such an irritation. And a spattering of horse drawn carriages offer island tours.

Only the eastern, or leeward side of the island is developed, but a path does loop all the way around the island, making for a very nice 1 ½ hour long walk. There is a small viewpoint hill in the center where you can see cows and goats grazing in luscious green pastures, reminding me a little bit of Normandy – I even said to Ryan, “Holy crap look at all those cows, where are we? Normandy?” Then we talked about cheese and wondered if the goat cheese salads we see at the delis here are made with local goat cheese???











The southern tip of the island has the surfer beach – it’s the surfer beach because there is actually a decent bit of surf that breaks into it – seems to me like a nice little beginner beach – not that I’m planning on a new activity.

And smack in the middle of town there is a yoga studio. Oh how I miss Keira’s classes – you can’t replace exceptional, but it’s a lovely studio and it’s an opportunity to practice until we get settled and I buy a mat again.

In the center of town there is a turtle hatchery maintained by the locals – maybe their way of giving back to the turtle community they probably affected by making turtle soup. Or maybe it’s farming – who really knows. We’ll stick to believing that it’s turtle conservation. There are at least two kinds of baby turtles there at the moment – hawksbills with which we’re very familiar and ridleys which are new to me. They are funny the little baby turtles. The ridleys seem to be positively buoyant as they swim swim swim downwards and the minute they stop flapping their little arms they float back up to the surface. I wonder if they get better buoyancy control as they get older or if this plagues them their entire lives.









We have been quite lucky and we’ve already been offered a job. We are considering the offer. In one sense it’s a good opportunity as we would be the only two instructors and we would finally get to work together again. We would have run of the place as there is no staff there currently. But we are a little confused as to the circumstances that have made it an empty spot. Think back circa January 2010. The shop itself looks a little run-down – a good coat of paint and updated signage would do it a world of good. But, it is attached to a resort and, even during this still low season, the resort is full. He claims that he ran 33 open waters, 5 advanced and 18 DSDs in January. That’s an impressive amount of work. And finally, it would put us in a senior position to maybe have some say in who is hired as the season progresses – as I think back to some of my old friends from PP.

The other offer that is possibly on the table is in Hawaii. We will be speaking to the contact there on Monday, which is really Tuesday for us. I am very intrigued and tempted by this possibility. Why? It’s closer to home. It’s the only way we’re ever going to be able to be dive instructors in the “real world,” full time, permanently. Oh, and we can work there legally which means we’re not at the mercy of changing immigration laws. We are lucky, in Indo, it seems to be old school – like Thailand used to be. But it won’t always be this way. The thought of going back to the grind is very unattractive to both of us, but the thought of living a more western lifestyle while still making a living doing what we love is very attractive to both of us. And that is the appeal of Hawaii.

So decisions are going to be made in the next few days – stay tuned.

March 22, 2011

Ryan talked with the dude from Maui this morning and I was thinking that would be the end of our decision/indecision game as I suspected that the man might want to hire only one person, but no, he wants both of us.

So decisions still need to be made - stay tuned.

As always, Peace...and don't forget to wear sunscreen.

Leaving the Interwebz...

March 8, 2011

First and foremost, I must correct a spelling error pointed out to me by my dad from the last blog entry. I'll share his email with you which I thought was rather amusing...

"... Our pallets are so used to the intricacies of Thai spices..."
You can do many things with a pallet, but taste is not one of them. Indonesian food might have tasted better had you used your...palate.

It is always a little embarrassing to have my French father correct my spelling. It is all the more embarrassing that most of you know how I loathe incorrect use of grammar and spelling. Ah, well, such is the art of blogging, I suppose.


We have left the panoramic beauty of Tulamben and headed back down the coast to Sanur – beach-side town with lots of resorts and retirees. Thank God, no parades of 65 year old men with 16 year old girls and, thank God, no parades of drunken 20 year olds. We walked, which after a three-hour drive did us all some good, I’m sure. But this place holds nothing for us, just like Patong held nothing. There is too much stimulus for me here - too many cars honking, too many people trying to push things at you. It makes me very grumpy. It's also quite expensive - clearly catering to a more affluent retiree market. It is merely a necessary pit-stop. Just enough time to figure out how to get to the islands and we’re outta this burg!

Polly-Anna-esque, we showed up in our taxi at the guesthouse Lonely Planet had recommended and the interwebz confirmed cheap cheap and it was full. I don’t like our hotel – the room is smelly, there’s no towels, no toilet paper and it only cost a couple of dollars less than the beautiful room we had up in Tulamben.

March 9, 2011

Tomorrow we leave for Nusa Lembongan. Lembongan is a tiny little island in a group of three that are about 12 miles from Sanur. It is reputed laid back and sleepy and it is reputed for diving and we will enjoy a day or two of said activity. One of the sites I am particularly looking forward to is Manta Point. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a manta ray and I have yet to photo or video one. Nusa Penida (site of Manta Point) is also where Mola Mola are reputed during high season which is still a couple of months away, but there was a sighting a few days ago, so who knows.

We will spend four or five nights on Lembongan and then continue on to Gili Trawangan. Gili is where we hope to scope things out for work. Unlike Lembongan, Gili will have internet, so hopefully we’ll get to catch up with ya’ll from there, but don’t worry if you don’t hear from us for a couple of weeks.

By the way, I was finally able to post pictures to Facebook this morning in the fastest 3 minutes the Balinese internet has seen all day! So check 'em out!

Peace xoxoxox

Bali, Baby (Tulamben)

March 4, 2011

We’ve arrived in Bali on what is the eve of their new year’s celebration. Much like Thailand’s Songkran, this is a festival of sending out the old and bringing in the new. However, unlike any new year celebration I’ve experienced thus far, it is one of true austerity. Tomorrow there is no existence. It is a time of reflection. There is no working, no driving, no flying, no being outside, no eating, no activities of any kind. So for us, no diving. Not great timing, but after the traveling, a day of rest might do us good.

Tonight we lucked into the festivities – a parade with a paper mache demon warder being paraded and animated by a group of Balinese men, led by a diminutive version being paraded and animated by a group of young Balinese boys. They marched their demon warders down the main (and only) street of Tulamben, displayed them on the side of the street, set off fireworks, then set the lot on fire. Ryan and Andy, thrilled to bits at the cheap, cheap noise-makers, set off a few of their own and I practiced my fireworks photography.

After a few days in Phuket, tying up loose ends, opening a bank account – if only I’d known a year ago how easy that was! – mailing some stuff home and – very important – enjoying some sushi, the alarm clocks sprung to life all too early this morning at stupid 3:55 (five minutes after Ryan’s phone had already gone “HAHA” upon receipt of a text message from our friend Andy who was making a last minute visa run and had decided to accompany us).

We topped off the evening with our first Balinese meal of Nasi Goreng, Sate and Lumpia.
It was one of those days when everything was on our side. After much stress over our luggage, we were easily checked in and no one said a thing about carrying on our dive bags, which we did easily (and since Air Asia is reputed so strict about baggage – no one on the plane had any carry ons, so it was easy to stow them as well). We arrived in Bali and my prescheduled pick-up was a no show, so we decided to head straight for Tulamben rather than spend the night in Sanur.

Finding a taxi was a bit of a challenge. We knew that the airport taxis were a rip-off and that you could get much cheaper taxis just outside. Surely enough, we were quoted $125 by the airport taxis and we eventually managed to get a ride for $45! It was a bumpy, windy, uncomfortable ride in Wayan’s minibus. And Wayan was determined to turn a 3-hour trip into a 2-hour trip so that he might get back to southern Bali in time for his parade. I must be getting used to the drivers of this part of the world or I’ve completely surrendered my mortality because the insanity doesn’t even phase me – the way they pass little mopeds and zip in and out of lanes with no regard for what’s coming from where – we even went flying past the Polisi truck without a raised eyebrow from them.

Despite its death-defying nature, the drive was stunning. I think it looks a lot like the Big Island of Hawaii – lush and verdant, craggy cliff-y shoreline, rocky black sand beaches. Lots and lots of rice fields, some hanging on for dear life to the side of a volcano remind us that we are indeed not in Hawaii.

A squooch over two hours and we pulled in to the bungalows at Tulamben that had been recommended to us. I hope that soon I will be able to post pictures. It is gorgeous. We have a massive room that is a freestanding bungalow. Unfortunately, there is air-con which Ryan feels compelled to use even though the temperature is quite pleasant (he’ll tell you he’s got it set perfect so it just cuts the humidity and I’ll tell you that bloody thing still blows on my head all night). It has hot water. Compared to what we’re used to, it’s luxury. And the price is very reasonable. And it’s a dive resort to boot!

March 7, 2011

It’s the mid-afternoon surface interval. We’ve just had lunch. Indo food is painfully bland compared to Thai food (though we have found one restaurant that satisfies us quite nicely with diver-sized dinners). Our pallets are so used to the intricacies of Thai spices and how nam plaa accentuates flavor. I am adding chili sauce and Magi to try to kick it up a notch. Andy offered a taste of his curry and after his description, “it tastes like Bisto,” I was inclined to decline. The banana pancakes are quite nice and the banana fritters are very nice and the lumpia are fantastic, but we cannot live on fried food alone.

The diving is superb. Tulamben found a spot on the world dive map because of the USS Liberty shipwreck. The USS Liberty was a cargo ship built in the teens and Japanese torpedoed during WWII in 1942 while crossing Lombok Strait. It beached. Then in 1963, volcanic activity caused it to slip back into the ocean and lazily settle onto its starboard side. Our bungalow is about 25 meters from the beach and the wreck is about another 30 meters out. This little resort where we are staying is as conveniently located to the wreck as you can be. Entries and exits are painful to say the least, as the beach is not sand, but large stones – not ideal for bare feet!
We are making loads of new fish friends! New types of angelfish and nudis and pipefish – leaf scorpionfish– extraordinary corals – this morning a white tip reef shark and some bumphead parrotfish came to say hello – perhaps the best dive we’ve had thus far. Unfortunately, the internet sucks donkey here so you’ll have to be patient when it comes to pictures.

Now, diving in Bali is a bit Cowboy style. No one’s asked us for proof of certification and we’ve not signed a single liability release. I love it! I mean seriously, if I die, what’s Ryan gonna do? Sue for some dude’s tiny little rice terrace? There are no instructors; DSDs are done by tattooed dive guides who’ve no idea what PADI stands for. I’m curious if DSDs even have to sign any kind of liability release. It makes me smile!

Tomorrow we head down to Sanur for a night or two before taking the ferry to Lembongan where we hope to go dive with those elusive manta rays.

Peace xoxox

(Ripley's) Believe It, or Not!

I meant to start A Confederacy of Dunces on the ferry crossing to Phuket, but as we walked down the pier I realized I’d forgotten to take puker’s little helper. “Oh well,” I thought, “I’ll be fine.” Famous last words, of course. The ferry rounded the corner out of Tonsai Bay and climbed up and down the first wave. The coffee sloshed around in my belly seeking desperately for a crumb of sustenance to hang onto, my heart and stomach tried to switch places and any chance of reading so much as the first sentence of Confederacy fell overboard.

Nicole gave me a tablet which started taking effect just in time for the boat to reach the lay of Phuket land, giving me all the icky drowsy side effects and none of the relief. The ferry climbed mountains and descended waterfalls for an hour as I turned greener and greener and quiter and quieter.

I intended to start A Confederacy of Dunces again on Monday on the bus ride up to Ranong. After 2 sleepless nights and a puker’s little helper, I fell asleep the moment my butt hit the seat, slept through the breakfast stop, slept through the downpours, awaking only momentarily to turn from one uncomfortable position into a slightly less uncomfortable position, repeating the process when said position became unbearable, back to the first position. Ryan woke me up after what felt like an hour – we’d been on the road four or five and were in Ranong ready to go through customs and get on the ferry to cross the border into Myanmar.

It then became my intention to read Confederacy on the ride back down from Ranong, but after a lunch which I’d yet again ordered thinking it was vegetarian and ended up picking meat off my eggs prior to consumption, I read about 20 pages and the puker’s little helper must have worn off and all the water I drank sloshed around in my belly trying desperately to hang on to something and finding nothing but slippery egg, and I was carsick again. Spent the rest of the ride laid out on the luxurious back seat watching the end of Singles and fading in and out of a very very very bad movie starring no one important enough to make it worth watching.

I went to Phuket sans Ryan who had to finish up a course before joining me on Sunday, but in company of Nic. And as it turned, other of “the girls” were in Phuket as well. After a somewhat boring round of the Dive Supply shin dig where Nicole bought herself a couple of new toys and I won a couple of expensive land torches, we reconvened for a night out on the Old Phuket Town. A dive called Rockin’ Angels – a little hole in the wall that was meant to be a jazz club as it had been billed to me, but was in fact a blues club with a band covering Dylan, the Doors, Hendrix and “Born to Hand Jive Baby!!!”

Morning came early on Sunday. We’d planned to meet up at 6:15 to go to the Vegetarian Festival. Lisa then found out that the pre-parade festivities were not convenient to us and the time was pushed back to 9:00. Having again not slept the night before I grunted my way through a few conversations with Nicole and was quite pleased to go back to sleep when she finally left.

Morning came early again on Monday as we made the aforementioned mandatory trek to Burma. Monday ended with a meander down the stalls of the vegetarian festival in search of foods for Ryan and my dinner. I came home loaded down with samosa type delights, pad see ew noodle dish, curries and a special dessert treat for Ryan – mango sticky rice.

Tuesday came early again. Thinking that the parade started at 9:00, I’d set the alarm clock for 8:00, thinking we’d luxuriate in a bit of snoozing before finally getting up. But we were brutally awoken at 7:30 by the banging of the drums and the popping of the firecrackers.

I remember when I was a kid, my dad’s favorite show was Ripley’s Believe It or Not, at the time narrated by Jack Palance. Surely Jack must have ended a segment on the Vegetarian Festival with his famous catchphrase, “believe it, or not.” The Vegetarian Festival is a Chinese-Buddhist period of atonement during which members engage not only in a vegetarian or vegan diet, but also in various acts of self-mutilation. We saw men and women parading down the street with a variety of implements speared through their faces – from knives and spears to an umbrella handle. We saw one man hitting himself in the head with an axe, blood trickling down his face. One man had a spear through his cheeks and what appeared like small arrows pierced through the flesh all up his arms and across his shoulders. A few men spasmodic in full on trance were guided down the road. What is unclear is the hoodoo voodoo peyote type junk these people are smoking to get themselves in this trance state. The following images from the Phuket Vegetarian Festival are probably not for the weak of stomachs.























After this strange wake up call it was back to refuge from the rain under the covers of a warm bed and escapist Iron Man on the computer. And another round of the delectables from the Veggie Fest street cars before grabbing a taxi back to the ferry.
Upon one year of living in Thailand we now know the ins and outs of getting around Phuket without getting ripped off.

Now back on PP! It was a slow wet week of too much time sitting in the shop watching the rain pour down in sheets as wind whips broken pieces of palm trees all around the island. The sun didn’t shine and Paradise was dismal looking. It was upon the completion of this dismal week that I quit. Completely unexpected, Saturday night ended with me walking into Barakuda after an unpleasant conversation with the manager and the rude text message that followed to talk to him about exactly how he was and was not going to treat me. We walked to the back, he started yelling at me. I told him he was full of crap and my final words were, “Ed, I’m all done with you, I quit.”

Not the best timing as I had a student, the girlfriend of a previous student, arriving on the island the following day. I was able to find a very nice shop to let me teach my course and was rewarded with a wonderfully delightful student who is doing not only her Open Water, but also her Advanced. It has been a very busy few days as we’re on a very aggressive schedule to finish her off before the 24 hour clock starts ticking down, but I’m very grateful for the work since I don’t know where or when the next baht will be.

Friday will come and first I clean our room, then I update the resume and start pounding the pavement.

I miss my friends at Barakuda a lot even though we’re on the same teeny tiny island. It’s not same same. But I reached the boiling point and the pot was spilling over. I feel like a bit of an idiot because I didn’t make my goal which was quite close, but on the other hand, I made my expectations perfectly clear and they were not met. And, I couldn’t imagine having to go in there one more day and look at Ed’s face and have to listen to him go on and on and on about this or that.

Well, as they say in Thailand, we love you long time.

Peace out!

Back to the Grind

I know, many of you are waiting for an update and none has come yet. It’s not lack of interest in you, but a general feeling like there’s simply not much to tell. I keep launching Word on my laptop, staring at a blank screen for a while and then impatiently turn my attention to something else.

Our second year in Thailand is under way and we’ve returned to the island for another season: back to Fatty and Little Girl, back to A27 Valentine Bungalows and back to our respective work places.

August, for me, brought, as predicted, quite a bit of work, though perhaps a little slower than last year. Then full moon arrived on August 25th and overnight everyone left the island and only a handful of people are hopping off the ferry every day.

I found my place back at Barakuda amongst a handful of colleagues, the numbers of which are dropping daily. Lee, the owner, has left us with the most insufferable manager who is pushing people out the door faster than dengue spreads through a mosquito infested Thai island. Those of us left are planning mutiny. Those of us left are still there because we enjoy each other’s company and because we like the shop and the money that’s to be made there. But none of us is willing to spend high season under this oppression. He’s a mean mean man and I can’t listen to him anymore. He’s a drunk and is worse after he’s started drinking, which starts earlier and earlier every day. So we are going to put forth to Lee that the problem needs to be fixed, letting him understand that we will all leave if it doesn’t change without making it sound like an ultimatum. I’m just not sure Lee cares though – I’d already told him that Ed was out of control (as had many of my colleagues) and that’s when he promoted him to manager. So we might all be looking for another job here shortly. Now the key is to find a place that will take 3 older American instructors.

Speaking of dengue, the mosquitoes have been abundant, large, vicious and disease ridden. Ryan had it. Two of our neighbours had it. Most of Ryan’s work had it. I’m not sure what I had, maybe dengue light. I was breakfasting at Ruthie’s one morning with our friend Caroline and she pulled out a mosquito carcass that she’d saved from work claiming it was the biggest mosquito she’d ever seen.

A couple of highlights of the past month:

We have had some unbelievably good diving. I think that I like low season better. It’s much quieter, there’s a lot less divers on the reefs and as a consequence there’s more sharks on the reef. I’ve had a few dives at Shark Point with leopard sharks swimming around everywhere and bamboo sharks in every hole. And recently we had visibility at Bida Nok like I haven’t ever seen, I don’t think. We could see Black Tip Sharks swimming around from 20 meters away.

I’ve had the opportunity for lots of Yoga. Keira is away visiting friends and family in Europe, but she’s had a replacement instructor: Jennifer from Venice, CA. I’ve been getting stronger and better and still really enjoying it.

I’ve gone with the girls up the mountain a couple of times to explore some of what’s on the other side and found some lovely beaches and seen some cool critters up there as well: lizards and monkeys and ants and butterflies.

Cats on the island have been insane. It’s mating season. There’s a cute little tabby girl at Ruthie’s that’s about to give birth before day’s end. And we spent about 3 days being entertained by a female cat across the street from the shop with all her male kitty suitors.

Well that’s all the news that’s fit to print at the mo. I’m trying to enjoy time with my friends as this time may be short if the proverbial hits the fan at Barakuda.

Road to Civilization

I wonder if I have "American" stamped on my forehead. Even without flashing my little blue American passport, people still want to speak English to me. I'm in France, speak French, dammit!

Landed in Paris to the most dreary of weather. 5 degrees celsius AND drizzling. Glimpses of a sun were caught prior to descending below clouds. And now just doom and gloom. I forgot to take my long-sleeve shirt out of my suitcase prior to check-in, so I feel positively ridiculous, not to mention cold, wearing nothing but hammer pants, a tank top and flip-flops. Clearly, I didn't think this through quite right. Typical.

I'm enjoying a cappuccino and the flakiest of chocolate croissants. The croissant cost 4 times what a croissant cost at the French Bakery on Phi Phi's Main Street. Actually, my breakfast just cost the equivalent of 2 meals on Phi Phi and I'm going to double that as I'm about to go for another round. I need to just not convert. But surely even in France, $10 (or 6 Euros) can't possibly be reasonable for a cup of coffee and a danish! But good grief, I could eat 15 of these croissants!

I'm amazed that so far everything has gone very smoothly. When planning the flights, my dad suggested that we book an earlier flight out of Phuket in the interest of giving more leeway in Bangkok in case the flight was delayed. Hindsight, I should have known that was a bad idea. The ferry took 2 hours to cross instead on 1 1/2 - I don't know why it's been that way lately. The only moment of impatience I had was at Rassada Pier waiting for Chao Koh's Pichamon ferry to unload the contents of its guts before gathering all those going to the airport onto a minibus. I did make sure to ask the driver before we departed if we were going direct to the airport or driving all around Phuket first. I figured I could still salvage the situation and catch a taxi. But, for ye of little faith, myself included, I made it to the airport exactly one hour before my flight was due to leave.

Bangkok was boring. I had 3 hours to wait and not much to do. The choice of restaurants included one that served Shark Fin soup that made me want to burn the place down - I get so upset, it's physical - I could seriously see myself setting fire to a place for those kinds of reasons. I ended up ordering some fries at Burger King and feeling like a sell-out whore while I was eating them and like crap afterwards with all that grease sitting on my belly. But I was vehemently against spending 150 baht on a pad thai - on the island, I get pad thai for like 50 baht. I hate airport food - the choice is always going to be the lesser of a couple of evils.

After my computer crapped out yet again because it's overheating, I did buy myself a little fan tray at duty free. It was probably a little more expensive than if I'd just gone to the basement of Big C, but it works fabulous!

With all of you as my witnesses I take the following vow: I am NEVER EVER flying an American airline again unless I have positively no other choice (i.e., traveling in the U.S.). Air France rocked! At first I was a little dismayed that it wasn't a big old Boeing 747 type plane, but the service was impeccable and everything was FREE! My seat was a front aisle seat with no one next to me, so unfortunately I couldn't put the armrest up, but I was still able to sleep most of the way. Though I should have listened to myself at the airport and bought some Valium or Atavan from the Boots to konk me out completely. At any rate, they didn't find it necessary to wake me up every time they brought food or drink around like the China Airlines gals on the way to Taipei.

I honestly can't believe that it's May 12 and people are bundled up like it's the middle of winter. I left Phi Phi, it was so hot my fore-arms were sweating just walking down the street. Not going to say any more about the heat - I know you're all tired of reading about it.

Chris came back from his second Similans trip on Saturday and I took Sunday and Monday off work so he and I could go fun diving together before I left for vacation and he leaves Phi Phi for good. It was fantastic to dive together again, without following or leading. We spent ages just puttering about and photographing things at our own leisurely pace. It's a whole different diving experience. I also wanted to spend a bit of proper time with him and not have our goodbyes be hurried, "okay it was nice to see you" kinda goodbyes. Who knows when next our paths will cross. Though, he's off to Sipadan and I've already threatened to go visit him before long.

Fatty had babies. Well, I guess technically he didn't have babies, but he sure as hell knocked up some little tramp who had Fatty offspring. I know they're Fatty's because clearly those little nuts did not fall too far from the tree. They totally have Fatty personality. There's 5 of them. 2 boys, 3 girls. They're probably about 2 to 3 months old by now and growing daily. My two favorites are the healthiest and the runt. I think I've just about named all of them at this point: Scout, Boo Radley, Junior, Helmethead and NoName - just by virtue of the fact that I kept calling the last one no name because I hadn't named it, it's name became No Name. I'm going to be gone for about 3 weeks by the time I've had my holiday and travelled to and from. This 3 week period is going to tell me one of two things about my boyfriend. Either he's a mean old human or he's a bigger sucker than I am. We used to feed 3 adult cats. Now we're feeding 3 adult cats and 5 kittens, so at this rate, we'll soon enough be feeding 8 adult cats. If when I return to Phi Phi, we're back to feeding only 3 adult cats, then I'll know that my boyfriend is a mean old human with nothing but evil in his heart. If when I come back we're feeding 8 cats, then I'll know that my boyfriend is at least as big a sucker as I am if not bigger. There is also the very distinct possibility that the real owners of all these kittens actually plan to turn them into 5 baht kittens and sell them. I don't need to own cats, but boy would I love to keep Scout and Boo Radley. Boo Radley has some respiratory problem and honestly at the rate he's going, I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't make it.

Well, I made it to Malaga, Spain in fairly good form. The most exciting part of my trip came right at the end. When I went to baggage claim, the board had posted carousel number 39 for my flight's bags. So I went and waited at carousel 39 and watched bags turn and turn and turn. Then the carousel stopped. And my bag hadn't come out. I overheard somebody say that bags were also coming out on carousel 40. So I turned around and indeed, the little monitor for carousel 40 informed me that these were bags that had originated in non-EU countries. Super. I watched bags go around that carousel until it stopped and my bag hadn't come out. I stood in line at the Air Europa counter and dialogued with a man in Espanol to be told that I needed to go to carousel 31. Okay. So off I trotted to carousel 31 which was enclosed in a "special" area. And there was my little suitcase waiting for me on a stopped carousel. Hurrah, we were reunited at long-last. Eager to go find my parents, I grabbed my suitcase and marched towards the exit to be stopped abruptly by a stocky, rotund bearded security guard who barked at me in Espanol about something to declare. No, no tengo. Again with the something to declare. No. Asked me where I came from. Tailandia. Asked me again if I had something to declare. No. And you came from Thailand. Yes. And you have nothing to declare? No. That's when he called his buddy over. Same thing with his buddy, who limited it to one interrogation then told me to put my suitcase on the xray machine. Then we examined the bones of my suitcase together as he pointed and asked me "what's that." I guessed, "hard drive???" Then he asked me for all the contents of my suitcase. Clothes, camera, hard drive, toiletries and yoga mat. I think it was the yoga mat that stopped the interrogation. Not smuggling drugs, not smuggling weapons, dude, I come in Peace!

Songkran, Protests and Ash

This week marked Songkran, the Thai New Year, and my birthday. Songkran was a blast! It is celebrated with a water festival and with no car traffic to worry about, the streets of Phi Phi were mad! A few of us went diving in the morning and our boat was met at the pier by the merry pranksters of Barakuda – the young boys with faces painted in a mixture of talcum powder and water, armed with water rifles. Nic and I promptly ended up tossed over the side of the boat into yucky pier water. Barakuda had been hijacked and was battle station waging war on all passerby. Ice cold water being launched from water rifles. It took me almost an hour to get home as every turn was met with more lovely Thai faces pouring small amounts of water on me or rubbing my face with the water/talcum powder mixture.

Since Phi Phi has a huge water problem (at least I assume that’s why), Songkran only lasts a day. In Chang Mai, Songkran central, celebrations last for 5 days. Honestly, I can’t imagine this lasting 5 days. You can’t go two steps without getting soaked.

That evening Barakuda threw a BBQ – Lee grilled some chicken and Ruthie, Cliff, Heather and I made sides. There was a wonderful group effort potato salad lovingly concocted of potatoes, bacon and bacon drippings, garlic, egg, mayo, Dijon and wasabi. Cheesy garlic bread. Veg salad. Next BBQ I’ve decided should be New Orleans themed and Ruthie and I will make Crawfish Monica except with Shrimp instead of crawfish. With Jazz Fest right around the corner, I’m thinking that might be a good occasion for a BBQ even if only 3 of us care about Jazz Fest.

Post Songkran has been super slow. Oh and then there’s the other reasons why we’re slow. I’m fairly certain that the protests in Bangkok are affecting people’s travel plans to Thailand. And then the black cloud of ash over Europe has reduced air traffic by more than 75% and that can’t be doing us any good either.

I know that I start to sound like a broken record when I repeat myself and that you guys don’t want to read the same crap over and over again, but it has really reached levels of heat the likes us little white folk from California have probably rarely experienced and it is way too hot not to be diving. It seems like the island has suddenly come to a standstill.

I have to go see my parents and have been debating when to go. I was trying to coincide it with a visa run, but am now thinking that if it’s going to be this slow, I might as well go soon and just get a 30 day stamp in my passport upon return. Then Ryan and I can figure out what we’re doing and if we stay longer then we’ll just do a visa run together. I’d like to go back to Laos.

I never did write about our last visa run/Similans excursion. The Similans were a wonderful break. It was very nice diving but with killer currents and thermoclines. The temperature dropped all the way from 29 to 24 degrees on one dive – that’s bloody cold! I can probably best describe it simply by posting pictures. The highlights were of course being the follower and not the leader underwater, taking lots of pictures and all the new critters we saw. Whale sharks still don’t exist.

The liveaboard experience was nice. We followed this schedule: wake-up between 6:30 and 7:00 and light breakfast (piece of toast, cereal, coffee). 7:30 to 8:00 first dive. Then real breakfast generally involving eggs, pancake or French toast and the likes. Then about an hour break. Then dive 2. Then lunch. Then about an hour break then dive 3. Then a snack – usually sandwiches. Then another hour to hour and a half break. Then dusk or night dive. Then dinner. Many of those hour breaks were spent napping.

We spent two nights in Khao Lak which is essentially one street lined with restaurants, dive shops, guesthouses, 7-11’s and souvenir shops. On the outskirts are hoity toity resorts. Otherwise, it’s obvious it exists purely to service the Similans. We had one excellent but super pricey Indian meal and one decent but super cheap Thai meal.

And spent a day with our asses in a mini bus, me praying all the way to Ranong that my life wasn’t going to end with my head through the windshield. The Burma crossing was another experience in time suckage. We were picked up almost an hour later than we’d been told and winded our way up to Ranong, crossed water in a rinky-dink little ferry to the Burmese side, spent all of 5 minutes in Burma, which were sufficient to see that it is a completely difference world and then retraced our steps back to Khao Lak 1500 baht lighter apiece. What I did note was the large wad of crisp American cash that was handed over to the Burmese border officials when they stamped our passports. Ah, the all-mighty dollar!

And then we went back to Phi Phi. We got picked up from Khao Lak by a minibus at 6:20 in the morning and then there was a whole hoopla over our bags which ended up making us ten minutes late for the ferry and rewarded us with a 2 hour wait at Rassada Pier.
We arrived back on Phi Phi at 1:00 and at 1:30 I was escorting customers to Magnifica for afternoon dives.

Yesterday was my birthday, the last before a big one! It was spent doing absolutely nothing, which is how I like to spend my days off. We had sunset at Sunflower and a great Indian dinner. This morning I went for my birthday massage and learned to my great disappointment that my massage place is closing at the end of the month.

Well, that’s all the news that’s fit to print.

Peace. xoxoxo