spicetsia

Sometimes I repeat a word that I have just learned to keep me focused when the sensory overload is too much. As I hopped on to the blue songtaew full of sun burned white men, a few scantily clad Thai woman, a honeymooning couple and myself in cotton gauze clothes fromBorn 2 (my favorite shop in Chiang mai) heading for this place called Pattaya with only 100 baht and $50 bill, I had no idea what was in store for me. The Russians grunted "i think banks close at 8". My watch said 8:05. either I would have come immediatly back to Hat Jomtin or they have never been in a Thai city. Their pale skin and wide eyes indicated I may know more than they, yet I held spicetsia (Thank you in Russian) in mind mind as we drove past blocks of neon lights, blarring music and Italian restuarants trying to make sense of this world I was now in. I have avoid pattaya like the plague for 18 years. Known for it's self indulgence and consumptive pattens , the antithsis of what Thai beaches have been for me. But I needed s few days R&R before hading to India and thus my lessons begin....

My flock has left me. The emptiness almost suffocating. How had I gotten so attached, or was it the attachement to a purpose - which was leaving for the airport in songtaews throughout the day? Left standing alone with Bonny I wondered just what the tears were for. I could not imagine them to be for the fear of being alone. I have always loved the playful freedom of traveling solo. I can barely remember the tears now, sun drenched sitting just steps from thailand's most hedonistic of playgrounds. how is it that I have ended up here. So long gone are my days of hopping a fishing boat to some unknown island only to while away my days with coconut soup and a snorkle mask. To find those quiet slivers of solitude require far more time than I allow myself anymore and as a result I repeated end up with the rest of the middle aged farang trying to escape the dredges of the desk for a few short days.

So hereI am, like the rest, motionless in the baking sun in attempting to fade our lack of activity with an instant dash of sun burn. The Thai's ironically search the shelves of the Boots drug store for whitening lotions to look more like us. If they could only understand that so many of us come and spend 10x's what a pat thai is worth simply to escape for a brief moment in time.

I came out of default (or is it a lesson in decision making). Samui flights were booked by the time I could make a reservation. This was the closest answer to water and sun near Bangkok. I had tried Ko Si chang, but sitting on the pier waiting for the ferry to depart at 7pm-to ply the rough waters in the dark for an hour did not settle with me. I needed rest but I also need some creature comforts.

Once again I curse the Lonley Planet, a book I disregarded with smug disdain in my youthful days of travel and now lug around as a bible only to be misguided repeatedly. But I turn to it as if an old friend hoping for a tid bit of advice for a traveler short on time. Traveling this way is challenging after so many years of life without a time frame. For me it makes decision making an impossible chore-and indicates how valuable my Pasasges can be for others. I am a walking and talking guide book and if I direct someone somewhere and it isn't what they want, can direct them unilt they are satisified.

Anyway, I made it to Jomtien Twelve on a strip of beach on page 239 in LP that looks like there are 6 hotels and a handful of resturants. "Quieter than Pattaya" is an understatment as I walk the long stretch of beach over populated with beach umbrellas. Older farang, over grown and pastey white against the blue sea sit reading books in German, newspapers in Russian, fondle young Thai girls and add another Chang bottle to the their already full little blue plastic table. I nestled into a lounge chair with matching umbrella a few steps from my art deco hotel immediatly following breakfast. Once I allowed myself to enjoy being here, I had a wonderful day lost in the sea and The Weight of Water-a fantastic book by Anita Shevre (I think that is how her name is spelled).

Locals glided through the sand offering bedspreads, fried crab, cotton candy, icecream, pedicures, tatoos, fruit, grilled fish, steamed prawns, shitrs, bathing suits, watches and jewelry. I was even visited by "Akha" women with Lisu hats and Karen bracelets. There was no reason to leave the beach.

I am tightly tanned, already more relaxed than I have been in ages and curious about what this city/beach of sin is really about. I have my camera with me and a fairly open mind. I doubt I will find any of my favorite Thai dishes from a quiet street vendor. A gyro or pizza may have to do-isn't this crazy that I am here???????

-last meal in Chaing mai-patseuw (fried noodle dish with a thai coffee) FYI-Thai street stalls always have a basket or plate of fixings-sugar, fish sauce, vinegar and chili