Of course if the 3 year old boy knew that the Cornetto was the best moment of his life then that would also spoil things a bit as well. He’d think, “I’m 3 and I’ve experienced the zenith of my existence with maybe 80 more years to go?!” It’s the fact you don’t know that ultimately makes the moment perfect. Ah life, how you toy with us!
So I finally broke. I had had enough of hammocks and lounging and decided to get out of the hotel and see what was going on elsewhere on this crazy island, so this afternoon took a dragon boat (not literally a dragon) down to Tonsai Bay to take a look around and do some shopping. I changed ÂŁ200 into Bahts (the Thai currency) at the airport, but have had no opportunity to spend any of it, as the hotel does not deal in cash, and I felt I should do something to help the local economy as I am sure most of the money spent at the hotel is going into the pockets of American hotel owning fatcats, so I was going to spend, spend, spend.
After a week of sloth the boat ride itself was a lot of fun, sea water was spraying into our faces and when the low boat hit a wave we would be thrown around a bit. It was like being on a rollercoaster where you might well fall out and die. The best kind of rollercoaster.
Getting to the Bay made me realise what a secluded and lovely spot my hotel is in. It was a whole lot more touristy here, and crowded and though the bays there were pretty spectacular I am glad I wasnÂ’t staying at this end of the island. It was fun to visit though. Basically the town was a maze of muddy alleys, lined with shops, cafes and market stalls, mainly selling the same sort of tourist friendly items. In certain spots it smelled of sewage and there was an awful lot of construction going on. I believe this part of the island was badly hit by the tsunami, whilst apparently our end was relatively unaffected. I felt doubly obliged to get rid of my money, as the people here could doubtless use it even more.
I looked around for quite some time, before making any purchases, finally plumping for a couple of wrist-bands (I can’t call them bracelets, even though that’s what they were, because I am a man and was planning to wear them). The girl on the stall asked for 100 baht for each (I think that’s a bit under two pounds) but I haggled her down to 160 for the pair. It felt slightly sick to be arguing over a few pence, when the money meant nothing to me and so much more to them, but I sense they still made something of a killing for these simple leather bands. But the gulf between us was hammered home when I produced a 500 baht note, the smallest I had and caused quite a stir as they went off to try and get me my change. Can you imagine a market trader in the UK not having change for a tenner? I felt a bit mean, but I think to not haggle would have been insulting in a different way. The mark up was clearly demonstrated in another shop where I was going to buy a notebook, mainly because there were lots of cute kids in the store and I hoped that some of the money might filter down to them in the form of food and the woman asked 480 baht for it (and it was not one of those fancy handmade paper notebooks, though it had a wooden cover with tin figures on it) and I decided that was too much and put it down like it was on fire (because although I wanted to help, I wasn’t prepared to part with eight pounds –charity must have its limits). She asked me how much I thought it was worth and I said maybe 200, so she asked for 250 and I decided that that was fair. Though clearly at even half her asking price she was making a reasonable profit..
It mainly made me laugh because of my own pretensions at helping out.
There was a good T shirt in one of the shops that read something along the lines of
“Phi Phi island
2002 sars
2003 bird flu
2004 tsunami
2005 earthquake
What next?”
I liked it for its untourist friendly honesty, though presumably the T shirt was either from an old stock or nothing happened here last year, which must have been disappointing for them. But best to face these things head on, with humour I think. I didn’t buy that T shirt, but did get one with “Singha Beer” written on it, as that’s mainly what I have been drinking here. I managed to haggle the woman down by 20 baht as well – oh yeah!
Oh and I think I saw my first ladyboy working on one of the stalls, but was disappointed that she didnÂ’t offer to suck me off. Although I donÂ’t think I would have liked her to. She looked a bit mannish. I think this may be too big a hurdle for me to overcome in my quest to be sucked off by a ladyboy. The obstacle of my heterosexuality may prove to be immovable. But then again as long as they keep their pants onÂ….
I didnÂ’t think I would get home in time to see the sunset in, but the boat back left a bit early and I made my way up to do my job. It would have been bad form to be seen slacking so early on. I noticed again the chorus of chirruping an animals or insects which started up the minute the sun was below the horizon. I looked around to see what was making the sound. It seemed bird-like, but there were no birds in the trees, so I had assumed it was insects before, but now I wonder if it was frogs. In any case it was impressive how they started their song the exact second that the sun had disappeared and I wondered whether my job was taken already. Maybe itÂ’s these creaturesÂ’ job to verify the sunset and I imagine itÂ’s a task they have done for many thousands of years. Then I come along like some Johnny come lately, surplus to requirements. How they must pity me?
I was particularly impressed with the fact that once the singing stopped after about five minutes, you could hear another group of chirruping insects/frogs croaking away in the distance. The sunset had just hit them and now it was their turn to make the announcement. Maybe they take the thing all the way round the world. ThatÂ’s an efficiency that makes me look even more stupid.
I had been writing my diary as I waited and the waitress who had remarked on my quietness the other day came up to talk to me again, asking me why I was always reading and writing. I told her I was a writer. She asked me what I was writing about. I told her it was about some friends I had seen on the ferry across who I felt were in the wrong couples and I was wondering whether they would realise this themselves one day. She seem surprised. “I write about what I see. Maybe I will write about you one day!” I told her. She jumped back in surprise and fear. She clearly didn’t want that or maybe she thought she wasn’t worthy of such an honour. “We all have a story to tell,” I told her, but I told it was OK, I wouldn’t write about her. I suppose I lied.
She then wondered what was interesting enough to write about from the holiday and I mentioned the woman freaking out in the adjacent room yesterday. She had heard about that and apparently the woman, it seems, was having a bit of a breakdown and wasnÂ’t very well, which made sense, but I was at least glad that there hadnÂ’t been an accident of any kind that had set it all off.
I managed to stay up until after 9pm for the first time this holiday and had a couple more beers in the bar, where they were playing a U2 concert on the big screen. I think I hate U2 more than any other band. They are so phoney and portentous and ultimately vacuous. Apart from Larry Mullen who seems OK, but the others are all dicks, especially Bono. And the Edge. And Adam Clayton, who isn’t even clever enough to think up a new rock star name. During “In the Name of Love” the big screens showed a bit of a speech by Martin Luther King and I shook my head in disgust at the arrogance of this group who would dare to associate themselves with someone truly important and intelligent.
Later Bono was dressed as the devil and railing against capitalism (because U2 arenÂ’t part of capitalism) and I wondered if in fact Bono might actually be Satan. It made sense for a second and then I realised that I hoped the real Satan would be cleverer and less obvious than Bono. Bono wishes he was Satan! I hate U2 and if you like them then you must leave immediately.
