We took a first-class train from Bangkok to Surat Thani, arriving at 5.30 am (after an hour's delay), well before dawn. Without the luxury of pickiness, we paid up for the most convenient bus/ferry package and parked ourselves and our luggage in the only open cafe for an exceptionally long breakfast.
If you'll forgive me an aside about toilets: Tallulah's rant about the unsuitability of squat toilets for women is detailed but well-argued. This is especially true when one is on a moving train, when they are just disgusting. Thankfully, we never found ourselves on a long-distance train without an alternative, but we each had occasions on which we were forced to give into the wobbling, insanitary cubicle. For anyone with any joint-related conditions, these can be difficult and unpleasant indeed. These experiences will haunt us, along with a friend's even more detailed explanation some years ago in a Parisian church of how squat toilets greatly increase the frequency of urinary tract infections in women. For more info on this... well, Google it. Don't ask me. Anyway, I was encouraged to find that this cafe had the kind of toilet that I can work with. Simple, yes, but involving a toilet seat. You flush it with water from a tiled, built-in basin ferried over with a plastic bowl, a process closely resembling methods employed by my flatmate and me during a tough plumbing winter.
Anyway, around 8.45 our coach arrived for our 90 minute ride to Donsak, where we boarded a catamaran for a fairly dull ride to Koh Samui. The exotic, lush islands and outcrops were barely visible through the salt-encrusted windows, sadly. The ferry company offered a good taxi fare so we took them up on it, though I slightly regretted it when the driver turned around with a grin and welcomed us to the island with, "So, you're going to give me a BIG tip, yes?"
A medium-sized tip later (received in good grace), we got to check into our hotel early and hit the beach. Bo Phut was beautiful. We sweltered under our beach umbrellas for a while, me spraying Tallulah with SPF 50 every fifty minutes, when she fell into a tropical island slumber, and lazily watching a lizard weave in and out of the wooden parasol mechanism. As we relaxed - reading simply too much hard work - we watched the monsoon moving in across the island.
On one side there were bright skies, on the other dark, brooding clouds threatening a downpour. It took at least an hour before the temperature dropped even a little and the winds finally made us move indoors. As we closed the door to our bungalow, the heavens opened.
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| Not a bad place to be stuck. |
We stayed indoors and listened to the rain, apart from our brief and wet outing to the restaurant when we heard the sounds of the monsoon - large frogs croaking in pots and other unidentifiable amphibian noises.
In the morning, drying off, we toured the island and saw its many natural wonders.
One stop was at the temple of the mummified monk. He is a revered character around the island and it's probably a testimony to his popularity that people still use the temple even while surrounded by "impolitely" dressed tourists. In the 1960s the monk, having predicted that his death was imminent, duly shuffled off while meditating one day and was left to become mummified as he was, complete with sunglasses. Our guide showed us how to use all the fortune-telling apparatus lying around, though we thought that under the circumstances we would be better not knowing about any great misfortunes that may assault us on our travels, as fellow tourists snap-snap-snapped photos of the late mystic. We declined to follow as it felt a bit ghoulish.
Something that was definitely not ghoulish was our newfound love for elephants. We had met an elephant at Siam Niramit in Bangkok but had yet to learn much about them. I was a bit uncomfortable with the idea of wild animals being captured and trained for human convenience, but I was told that the domestic elephant has been bred this way for centuries and they do not do well without humans, which makes me feel better. On Koh Samui we heard about the special relationship between these elephants and their mahouts who are responsible for them for life - theirs or the elephant's. When Tallulah boarded her elephant her mahout decided he would like a special relationship with her, too. He wove her an engagement ring and other accessories from coconut leaves as they lurched about the forest.
Tallulah took to the Gulf of Thailand the next day in one of the hotel kayaks, as I lay and watched with my new friend Amina, who was thrilled that she had sold me one of her lovely floating shirts and sat down for a chat. I explained that I was checking that my friend hadn't drowned, and Amina yelled some encouraging platitudes such as, "Come on, Lala! You can do it!" then helped Tallulah drag the kayak back up the beach. Swimming came next, until something suspicious brushed up against her. Lala doesn't like fish on her plate or on her legs, it seems.
Activity for Trixie didn't involve much more than chewing cashew nuts and waddling down to the massage booth. We decided to go for a foot scrub without thinking about our mutual ticklishness, so the twenty minutes or so was torture. I think we each chewed through a few layers of skin getting through it without yelling and kicking, which may have seemed impolite.
A final surprise - having accidentally left a bag in that taxi on the way to the hotel, we were surprised (to say the least) to find our taxi driver at the door to our bungalow returning it. What a public spirited young man, we thought. He grinned and rubbed his fingers together. "Tip for taxi?"
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