Sunset in Koh Tao, Thailand; Holding up the Petronas Towers, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia; Street Market, Thailand; Coral Formation, snorkelling in Koh Tao, Coral Formation, Thailand; Milkshakes with Weijie in Singapore

Trekking in Nepal; Bulungula, South Africa; Fiesta! Chilecito, Argentina; Skiing in the Andes in the shadow of Aconcagua, Argentina; Great White Shark, South Africa

It’s the day after Christmas, and I’m sitting in the living room in my Mom’s house in Connecticut. It’s still dark, but the first bits of light are starting to fill the sky. I’ve been home for 5 days now but still haven’t been able to get my body back on schedule. I’ve been getting up before 5 a.m., going to sleep earlier than my mom, and being generally lethargic and lazy since I’ve been home. There’s plenty of stuff I should be doing, but I’m not. I’ve sort of come to expect this period of being down after a trip, it’s normal. Eventually my motivation will come back, it’s just inconvenient to come back to a thousand things that have piled up to do—mail to sort through, overdue bills to pay, etc. etc.

I’m trying to digest all the experiences I’ve had, to make sense out of the seemingly random stream of consciousness that has been this year. I have to say, it’s been quite a year. I rang in the New Year in Steamboat Springs, Colorado where I had an absolute fairy-tale lifestyle. Every morning I would wake up in the slope-side condo my brother and I rented and go skiing for a few hours, flying through the champagne powder, getting lost in the endless glades of pine and aspen trees, and having more fun than I would have ever thought possible. I spent my afternoons working at a preschool with wonderful children, families, and co-workers in an environment which, after the most difficult year of my life the year prior, filled me with joy and hope on a daily basis. Evenings would be spent hanging out with my girlfriend Sofia (the girl I visited in Santiago, Chile), or my brother or friends, sometimes having a beer in our hot tub, or going to the hot springs, or out to dinner. On weekends I worked as a ski instructor which was tiring but also a lot of fun, and allowed me to ski free not only at Steamboat but also at many other incredible mountains in Colorado. I left Steamboat in May, and after 2 weeks of grueling but fun training, spent the next 2 months in Ecuador (South America), where I led a Spanish immersion program for American high school students, getting paid to travel and do what I love. I got to help lead a multi-day backpacking trip along the Inca trail through the Andes Mountains, experience the extraordinary Amazon rainforest, help build houses for needy families, and last but not least, make a difference in the lives of young people not too much younger than myself. (It was doing 2 SCUBA diving trips with Broadreach, the company I was working for in Ecuador, when I was in high school that sparked my sense of adventure and love of travel, helping me gain self confidence and lose tons of weight after weighing almost 250 pounds at one point. It was truly a dream come true to be able to go back and work for Broadreach, and I only hope I could make even modest changes in the lives of my students). The reward for all my hard work in Colorado and Ecuador (as much fun as I had, it truly was very hard work, most of the time working 7 days a week long hours) was this trip for the last 4 months.

Nonetheless, as many experiences as I’ve had, as much fun as it’s been, it’s also made my life more difficult in a way, more complicated. The more you experience in life, the more choices and options you have. I have met and observed an enormous variety of people and lifestyles this year. I now realize, more than ever, that I have the power, the luxury, but also the responsibility, of deciding what to do with my life, something very few people in the world have, relatively speaking. Of course, everyone has control over their destiny to some extent, but few have as many options as I do. While most of my friends from college were sitting working in an office somewhere, I was considering extending my time in Thailand to spend a few months getting my Divemaster SCUBA certification, but decided to go back to my life in Colorado instead.

I remember sitting on the subway as I was coming into London from Heathrow airport, exhausted from the 24 hour trip from Thailand. Looking around I noticed a young guy about my age, and started comparing my life to his. While I was dressed in the same old raggy jeans and T-shirts I’d been hauling around for months, he was well dressed in trendy, probably expensive clothes. While I was lugging around a heavy backpack and bags, fatigued and travel-hardened, disoriented in a new place I’d never been to, he was clearly relaxed and in a perfectly familiar environment, probably heading back home after a pleasant night out. And of course one of the things that also brought my attention to him was the beautiful girl sitting next to him, equally fashionable looking, resting her head on his shoulder. Seeing the happy looking couple, I couldn’t help but think—should I abandon my lifestyle of adventure and uncertainty? Should I move to a city and use my college degree to find a high-paying office job, buy nice clothes and nice things, not having to worry about every single dollar I spend? Wouldn’t it be nice to have clean clothes to wear every day, not having to worry about whether that shirt had passed the threshold from acceptably grimy to disgustingly filthy? Wouldn’t it be nice to have the comfort of a daily routine, not having to plan each and every day? As much as I enjoy meeting new people traveling, wouldn’t it be better to have a fixed group of friends rather than trying to find new company in each new place? Should I settle down and try to find a relationship, quite a difficult prospect when you’re never in the same place for more than a few days at a time. Ironically, less than 2 weeks before, while I was hanging out in my hammock on Koh Phan Ngan, Thailand, I had been offered a great job working in Raleigh, North Carolina for Broadreach, the company I had worked with in Ecuador last summer, helping to plan and organize trips for teenagers in different places all around the world. The money wouldn’t have been great, but it certainly would have been better than what I’ve been making. Nonetheless, as cool as the job had sounded, I decided against the idea of working in an office and turned them down. Still, I was flattered to hear that the door was open if I changed my mind. I’m almost 2 years out of college. I graduated Phi Betta Kappa with 2 majors and 2 minors from one of the most challenging, prestigious schools in the U.S. While most of my friends have careers and are making many times as much money as I am, I’ve hardly set foot in an office since I was an intern at a non-profit law firm my senior year at Hopkins. Should I not reconsider this opportunity, moving on to gain experience, build a career, start building a firmer life with less uncertainty and more comforts???

NAW!

I’m 23 years old. My college education isn’t going anywhere. Every path has its pros and cons, sacrifices and benefits. WHAT’S THE RUSH???

Well, that’s what I tell myself anyway, and I believe it for the most part. Still, I have my moments of doubt from time to time, such as that experience on the London subway.

Actually, the biggest argument I have in favor of leaving my current lifestyle is that while I’m doing everything to see the world, I’m doing nothing to change it. One of the times in my life I was most depressed was when I studied a semester in Argentina my junior year of college. Every day I was there I was faced with the injustices of the country, the juxtaposition of opulent wealth with extreme poverty I encountered in Latin America (Of course, such injustices are always more evident and noticable in other societies than your own). I certainly had a lot of fun as well, and in hindsight it was a life-changing period of my life, but it was quite difficult while I was going through it.

Nonetheless, after a while I became more accustomed to these injustices. At first it was difficult for me to spend money in places where there were people begging on the street (although it’s questionable whether that feeling is rational—spending money in the U.S. instead would not make these people any less poor, if anything spending money in poor countries helps by putting money into the local economy) But, as my other blog entries make evident, on this trip I haven’t hesitated to spend money, taking advantage of favorable exchange rates to do things I couldn’t afford to do back home such as diving with sharks, bungee jumping, and not working for 4 months straight. While seeing poverty still affects me, the impact isn’t as strong as it once was, and it got to the point where people begging on the streets in Nepal would just annoy me, and I would do my best to ignore them. While going to see Les Miserables in London, I couldn’t help but notice the irony of a play which, in portraying poverty and despair, is at the same time a luxurious treat for the well-off, as far removed from real poverty as you could possibly get. I fear that this paradox was endemic throughout my entire trip.

I remember a guy I met my first day in Nepal, as I was wandering aimlessly around Kathmandu. I ended up in what can only be described as a slum (I know not the safest place to be, but I’d read that street crime was low in Kathmandu, and it was the middle of the day and there were plenty of people around, so I decided to risk it). As I was walking along a river lined with piles of garbage on both sides, past 2 pigs wallowing in their own filth while rummaging through the trash for food, a young man yelled to me from across the street, motioning for me to come over. He was sitting out in front of his house with a group of people. Against my better judgment I went to see what he wanted, expecting a clever (or not so clever) ploy to try to extract money from me. To my surprise, despite my suspicion he started a conversation and we spoke for at least 10-15 minutes, without him ever asking me for money once the entire time. He was older than I was, though not too much older, and he spoke with an eagerness and curiosity which immediately inspired trust. He asked question after question: where I was from? How was life in America? I could tell that he was genuinely interested, that he really wanted to know. He told me about his life, how he and his friends were unemployed, trying to find work to feed their families. He told me that his mother was ill, yet he did not have enough money to take care of her. He told me, in imperfect but surprisingly good English (I have no idea how a man in his position learned to speak English so well) that he was tired from years of fighting and violence, frustrated by the corrupt government on one side, who made promise after promise yet never delivered, and on the other side by the Maoist rebels who supposedly fought in the name of the poor, yet made impossible demands of support from these very same poor, threatening those who failed to support them, and in the end not making life easier for anyone. After a while, he asked me in his strong accent if I was an optimist or a pessimist. He didn’t pronounce it correctly at first, and needed to repeat it a few times before I understood what he was asking me. I didn’t know how to respond. “I’m an optimist”, I exclaimed. “I try to make the best of any situation.” “Not me”, my friend replied, gesturing to his squalid surroundings, “I’m a pessimist.” His voice didn’t have a touch of resentment or envy, but rather a sort of stoic fatalism. I couldn’t think of any way to respond that didn’t sound completely pathetic. Don’t worry, things will get better! How do I know whether they’ll get better or not, maybe they’ll get worse. Look on the bright side, don’t dwell on the bad! Easy to say, but I sure as hell wouldn’t want to switch places with him. So I didn’t really say anything. When I left, my friend gave me a warm goodbye, and invited me to come back and visit him anytime. The next day I left and started my trek through the Himalaya, and thought about more pleasant things.

Still, I shouldn’t beat myself up about it. One lesson my Dad has always instilled in me is that happiness is a virtue, not something to be ashamed of. I have not caused the world’s problems, and can point to lots of people whose lives I have improved. Everybody has opportunities in life, some just have more than others. I should be proud, not ashamed, that I have worked hard and taken advantage of my opportunities. I suppose, but that logic didn’t make me feel any less uncomfortable at times.

I can’t help but resent a different guy I met in Nepal, while bungee jumping. As we were loading into the van he gave some coins and a piece of chocolate to a small girl. He made sure that his girlfriend saw the gift. Before long the bus was surrounded by children begging, and the guy was soon out of coins and out of chocolate. “What a great guy I am”, he must have thought to himself, as we pulled away down the dirt road, away from the poverty and back to our hotels. Did he really do anything to improve the lives of these children, or had he just appeased his conscience so that he wouldn’t have to feel guilty?

Enough stories. I can safely say that I’ve yet to discover the meaning of life (I didn’t set out to do that, but I think I was secretly hoping I’d figure it out on the way). But I do think I’ve made progress, changed in ways that will not be immediately evident. It may be my imagination, but I think traveling to extraordinary places has given me a greater appreciation of the mundane beauty in the everyday world. I’ve grown more patient, less anxious and apprehensive (although, again, that’s not to say I no longer feel anxious or apprehensive). Old clichés, like the one about how life is a journey, not a destination, have more meaning. I’ve realized that, as much as I like making friends and being with people, it’s ok to be alone sometimes. I’m not quite as afraid of loneliness as I used to be, although that’s not to say I don’t feel crushing loneliness at times as well. I think, I hope, I’ve also observed and learned more about the universality of human emotions and sentiments. Fear and ignorance are present everywhere, but a more powerful force still is love.

I suppose I’ll keep searching.

Who said London is expensive? As I headed back west from Southeast Asia bound for Europe, getting my standard geography lesson by flying over new places, I was increasingly nervous about getting back to the western world. First, I crossed back across the Indian Ocean, Southern India, then the other side of the Indian Ocean before another layover in Oman, Muscat (fortunately less than the 12 hours of hell I spent there en route to Nepal). Later, flying north towards Europe I saw on the satellite map that I was flying smack-dab between Baghdad and Tehran, before crossing into Turkey, then finally across Europe.

When I’ve told people about my trip over the past months, the one thing I’ve kept on hearing over and over again more than anything else about London is how expensive it is. Worse, as the dollar continues to weaken, the exchange rate is now over 2 dollars to the pound—London was the one place on my trip where, to convert prices to dollars I had to use multiplication rather than division. After months of sacrificing comfort to live as cheaply as humanly possible—taking uncomfortable busses rather than more expensive sleeper trains, buying rooms with fans instead of air conditioning, always bargaining, sometimes over less than 50 cents-- I was horrified at the prospect that all my pains would be completely undone by 3 short days in London. I was wondering if it had been a mistake to not just go straight home from Bangkok—after all, in only 3 days could I really make more than just a token visit, to just be able to say that I’ve been to Europe?

24 hours later, sitting in the balcony in my front row, center stage seat for the Royal Shakespeare Company’s production of Much Ado About Nothing, I couldn’t help but smile with delight. My guidebook had claimed that 30-50 British pounds was the “bare minimum” for survival in London, yet I had managed to have a wonderful day for less than 25 pounds, including a nice dinner and what was truly the best seat in the house for a professional West End show. I decided that rather than be upset about spending all my money, I would turn it into a game, a challenge, to try to see and do as much as I could in those 3 days spending as little money as possible.

After taking care of the basic essentials of accommodation (a hostel for 6 pounds a night—my bed wasn’t particularly comfortable, and the rooms were crammed like sardine cans, but I’d slept in a lot worse), food (cramming as much cornflakes and nutella-smeared toast as I could from the free breakfast at the hostel, wrapping some bread and jam in a napkin for later), and transportation (5 pounds a day for an unlimited underground subway and bus pass), I headed into Central London. My first stop was the West End, London’s version of Broadway, famous for its high quality professional shows. I was hoping to see at least one show while I was there, but was delighted to find out that theater was the one thing in London that was quite a bit more affordable than New York, and ended up seeing a different play all three nights I was there. I was able to get a youth rush ticket for that night’s production of Much Ado About Nothing for only 5 pounds! I also got a ticket to The Producers for the following night (still a good deal at 10 pounds, but not as good a seat) before walking towards the Thames River.

Walking along the river, the crisp winter air, mixture of camera clicking tourists with trendy, well dressed locals, and the distinctive smells of a modern city reminded me a lot of New York. I eventually made my way to Big Ben and Westminster Palace, home to the British Parliament. I found out that Parliament would be in session that afternoon, and was open to the public. Even better, it was free, so I decided to go back and see it. But first, I made my way towards Buckingham Palace. By that time I was in a great mood, even if a bit tired and jet lagged, and had completely overcome my anxiety about London, realizing that there was enough free things to do in the city to keep me entertained for months, let alone days. Sure, I had to be content looking in to Buckingham Palace from the outside, but I didn’t feel that I had to do the touristy things to get to know London (I’ve never been to Niagra Falls even though they’re only a few hours from my house—does that make me less American???). From there I made my way back to Westminster Palace, where I stood in line for the visitors gallery to see Parliament. It was something probably relatively few tourists do, but I found it really interesting to see the British political system in action. Just as I’d heard, they really did grumble at each other during the debate, even though it was over fairly mundane stuff. The only thing close to drama was when one MP (Member of Parliament) accused the minister of culture of giving jobs for political reasons rather than merit, and she responded by denying the claim and basically telling him he was full of crap. The discussion was actually pretty interesting, and covered a wide range of topics in the short time I was there, ranging from protection of ancient Roman ruins sites to the commemoration of the 200th anniversary of the abolition of the slave trade in Brittain, to funding for the BBC.

From there I hopped onto the Underground and headed up the river to the Tate modern art museum. All the major museums in London are free, so I spent a lot of time doing that. After crossing the beautiful millennium bridge back over the Thames, I arrived at the museum slightly after 4p.m, with 2 hours before it closed at 6. I’m not usually much of a modern art aficionado, so I figured 2 hours would be plenty of time. Nonetheless, I soon found the exhibits to be truly fascinating. The exhibits were not only very stimulating and original, but the explanations that went along with them were very thorough, giving a much better understanding of the history and context that went along with the artwork. I especially like several exhibits that combined audio visual elements, such as a room with 4 large movie screens simultaneously playing different short clips from movies which all connected to form common, ever changing themes, such as a particular type of music, or people screaming, bombs dropping, etc--It’s one of those things that sounds really dumb and boring when you explain, but is really cool to see. I guess that’s the way most art is, so I’ll finish by just saying that it was a phenomenal museum, and after 2 hours I still hadn’t finished one of the 4 or 5 floors in the museum. I decided to go back and spend more time there before leaving London but ended up not getting back.

I headed back to the theater district for the show. Not having eaten a meal since breakfast I was famished, and decided to splurge by going to a pub for dinner which, at 9 pounds, was by far my most expensive purchase of the day. From there I headed over to the Novello theater for the show. I was absolutely astounded with how good my seat was—it was such a small, intimate theater, that being in the front row of the balcony was actually better than being down below. Much Ado is also a special play for me, since I acted in it in high school years ago. The production was very well done, and brought back wonderful nostalgic memories from good times in high school. That ticket may have been the best deal I got on the entire trip, which is saying a lot. There’s nothing I like better than getting a good deal, so after the show I was in a good mood that lasted for the duration of my time in London.

After the show let out, I walked slowly through the streets, busy with other people coming from shows, to the Underground station at Picadilly Circus, and headed back to my hostel. London’s was the fifth subway I rode on during my trip (after Buenos Aires, Argentina; Santiago, Chile; Singapore; and the monorail in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia), and I always love people watching on the subway. Public transportation, especially the subway, is always one of society’s levelers-- a metal box stuffed with people from just about every social strata. It’s like being able to look through a microscope to see a more or less representative sample of a culture.

The next morning my first destination was The British Museum, hailed as one of the “Great Museums” of the world, largely made up of artifacts the British empire collected (or some would say stole) from around the world. It was fascinating walking through the enormous halls, but also a bit overwhelming and even frustrating. Seeing the enormity of the world, the immense complexity of every individual society and culture, I had to ask myself whether the cultural ‘knowledge’ I had acquired over the previous months traveling was really anything more than absurd overgeneralizations, generic clichés. Nonetheless, I couldn’t help but feel proud to have seen first hand many of the regions and artifacts catalogued in the museum—Inca ruins from South America, golden artifacts from Egypt, Buddha statues from Southeast Asia, and many more. I smiled with Déjà vu when I saw a group of uniformed school children taking notes in front of an Egyptian ruin. I thought back to only a few days earlier, visiting the Ayuthaya ruins in Thailand, a completely different world from here, clicking a picture of an identical group of uniformed Thai children on a school trip, writing in their notebooks about the ancient temple in front of them. Connections like that make me appreciate the trip I’ve done.

In the afternoon I spent more time walking the city. I went to St. Paul’s Cathedral which, like Westminster Abbey, I was content observing from outside (who’s ever heard of charging admission to go into a church?!? I found that very distasteful and decided to save my money). I walked up the Thames past Shakespeare’s Globe Theater, past the London Bridge and crossed over at the Tower Bridge to the Tower of London. I actually would have liked to have gone inside, but it was getting late, there was a long line, and I still wanted to get to the National Art Gallery, so I walked the perimeter and watched a documentary in the visitors center outside the tower. From there I headed to Trafalger Square and the National Art Gallery, where I spent 2 hours trying to cram in almost a 800 years of European art. In contrast to the countless Buddha images of all shapes and sizes I’d been seeing the last 2 months in Asia, the theme in European Art is definitely lots and lots of pictures of Jesus. I really enjoyed seeing the French Impressionist paintings they had, as well as a few Van Goghs, but I was pretty tired from another long day by the time the museum closed at 6.

That evening, after a fine dinner of pizza slices on the street, I saw The Producers, my second show in as many nights. I was worried because I’d bought the cheapest balcony seat available and was told I’d need to lean over the stage light to see the stage, but when I arrived I was delighted to find out that the balcony was closed for that evening, and I was being upgraded to a seat worth almost 3 times what I’d paid—another lucky break! I remember not too long ago in New York when The Producers was sold out a year in advance. Now that it’s no longer a trendy show, they can’t even sell enough tickets to fill the balcony! It was a great show, although I have to admit it was a bit hard to stay awake after another long day.


The next and final day of my trip, I started with an early morning walk through Hyde Park, where the fog was truly as thick as the proverbial pea soup. I would later find out that several hundred flights would be cancelled due to that very same fog. Nonetheless, at the time it was eerily beautiful, exactly how I’d pictured London to be, with rows of bare trees and cold statues emerging into view from the dense fog as I walked through the park. It brought to mind all the newspaper headlines speaking of the “Suffolk Strangler”, the mysterious murderer that had recently killed several prostitutes.

In the afternoon I headed over to Greenwich, outside of central London, where I did yet more walking along the Thames (it’s a very nice place to walk). I visited the Maritime Museum, as well as the Royal Observatory, where I got a picture straddling the prime meridian and set my watch to the official Atomic clock (you’ve heard of Greenwich Mean Time?) As the sun sank low in the sky, the temperature sank but the colors became dramatic, giving a brilliant golden hue to the trees, grass, buildings, and the London skyline across the Thames. As I watched the sun set between two old looking houses from a park, I thought of the symbolic sunset of a successful journey.

For my final evening, I treated myself to yet another show, my favorite musical, Les Miserables. The ticket was a bit more expensive than the other two, but well worth the price for seeing my favorite show on my last night, and once again I got an absolutely superb seat in the 10th row. After the show I took a final (and by now routine) walk around Picadilly Circus to the underground station. As I left the street and walked down the stairs, I said goodbye to London—this was truly the end of my trip, as after this all I’d have left would be the trip home.

Fortunately, despite the fog my flight got out from Heathrow the next day only about an hour and a half late (not bad since countless other flights were cancelled). I was thrilled that after 4 nights and 3 jam packed days in London, including incredible seats for 3 professional shows, I had spent only about 100 pounds ($200)—still quite a bit more than other parts of my trip, but not bad for all that I had been able to experience, and for being able to check ‘EUROPE’ off my lifetime ‘to-do’ list (that’s a joke in case the sarcasm was too subtle).

While conditions on the ground were as foggy as Hyde Park had been the day before, within 10 seconds of takeoff we climbed up into the clear blue air, leaving a beautiful layer of swirling white below. As a bonus, I was treated to yet another beautiful sunset over the clouds. In fact, given the timing and our eastbound travel, the sky was a spectacular perpetual twilight for the entire flight. I was expecting the flight to be a time for thoughtful reflection on the last several months, but that was before I realized that my Virgin Atlantic flight had personal entertainment center’s for each seat, so instead I spent the whole 8 hours watching on-demand movies, listening to music, and playing tetris, killer worm, and pong (a bit of free advertisement for Virgin Atlantic—they’re definitely the best airline I’ve flown on). The time wasn’t completely wasted—I did watch the new Al Gore documentary on global warming, which was particularly poignant because I was flying over the arctic circle at the time, and while the movie was playing I was looking down at what I think were giant icebergs off the northeast coast of Canada.

After touching down in JFK, I picked up my bag, met my dad and gave him a big hug. My world tour was over.

As the end of my trip has moved from a distant horizon to an ever-closer reality, I've begun to mentally prepare myself for the end of the road, so to speak. I find that however long I travel, I usually feel ready to go home by the end, and this trip is certainly no exception. I've found it harder and harder to motivate myself for the daily "chores" of travel-- re-packing my ever-larger backpack, researching and arranging the logistics of how I'm going to get where I'm going, sitting in a taxi, bus, train, boat, etc. for many hours on end, arriving exhausted in a new place and trying to orient myself, finding a place to stay, eat, etc., trying to meet new people in my new "home" for the day (or more as the case may be), planning what I'm going to do the next day, and so on.

My trip out of Malaysia was one of the longest hauls yet. As I was riding the boat back down the river out of the rainforrest, flipping through my Lonely Planet, I still wasn't sure exactly where my destination was. Given the time and money I had left, and my desire to settle down in one place for a while, I made the strategic decision to relocate myself directly to the Islands of Thailand all at once, rather than skipping up from place to place as I'd been doing. The distance was vast, however, and getting there proved to be quite an adventure in itself.

It pained me to have to backtrack several hours south back to Kuala Lumpur, which I didn't expect to see again, but that was the only way to get a direct connection to Thailand. I arrived in the afternoon and found I had over 6 hours before an over-night bus left for the Thai-Malaysian border. I took the time seeing the parts of the city that I missed the first time, and made my way to the Kuala Lumpur tower to see a fantastic view of the KL skyline, including the nearby Petronas towers at sunset. I also found it impossible to resist shelling out the $15 to do a "reverse bungee jump", which was fun but nowhere nearly as exciting as the real one I'd done in Nepal.

After an overnight bus, complete with another half-asleep passport stamp at the border in the middle of the night, I arrived in Hay Yai in Southern Thailand. I was a bit apprehensive to be there because it is in the deep South of Thailand which has had increasing political violence recently, so I didn't stay long and hopped on the first connection I could up to Surat Thani, where I would catch a ferry Koh Tao island, about 200 km off Thailand's East coast in the Gulf of Thailand. After several hours more, we arrived in the early afternoon. A ferry was leaving shortly but I opted to wait another 9 hours for the night ferry, which was cheaper, sounded cool, and would save me from paying for a hotel room that night. Apart from being crammed like sardines, it was actually a really cool experience and I slept like a log, if not for long enough as the ride was only 7 hours. I was very excited to wake up in the morning to see the mixing blue, yellow, and orange of the sun rising over the Gulf of Thailand, the green palm-laden hills of Koh Tao approaching rapidly.

My primary goal for Koh Tao was to go SCUBA diving. I'm an avid diver, although I haven't had many opportunities to dive recently, and was looking forward to diving in Koh Tao, which has the reputation for having excellent diving at an affordable price. I rented a small motorcycle at the pier and went off to explore the island in search of a place to stay/dive. There was no shortage of diveshops on the island, and I found a nice dive resort on a beautiful beach which had a dive leaving in less than an hour so decided to start diving immediately. As the diveboat left the beach I wondered if I should have rushed so quickly (I didn't even have time to put my bags in my hotel room!) but it ended up being an excellent day with 2 wonderful dives. I felt very comfortable in the warm water, and the visibility was remarkably good for this time of year, when the late monsoon rains usually prevent good conditions. The coral was spectacular and full of color, especially at "Japanese Gardens" a divesite so named because that's what the coral formations look like. There was also a wonderful variety of fish species, often so thick as to be almost "cloudlike"-- the only time I ever saw fish like that before was diving in Egypt's Red Sea 7 years ago. I also saw a turtle on one of the dives, but unfortunately never got to see any of the enormous whale sharks that the area is known to have.

I ended up staying in Koh Tao for a full week, the longest I've stayed anywhere since I was at Lucas' house in Argentina, and I dove every day. It was wonderful to spoil myself a bit (more) and dive so much. My favorite dive, one of the best I've ever done, was Chumpon Pinnacle, an incredible site located several miles off the Island in 100 feet of water. The main attraction of the dive was the virtual certainty of seeing Black Tipped Reef Sharks. I ended up diving there 3 times and saw about 5 sharks on every dive. After descending to the ocean floor (quite deep by recreational diving standards), we spotted the first shark, and soon several more came into view. They were probably about 2 meters in length, more or less. They came quite close a few times, and clearly showed the black marks on their fins and tails that give them their name. I'd certainly be scared to see a shark while swimming at the surface, but seeing them while diving is a different story entirely, and something almost every diver looks forward to. They are very graceful and, since you are more part of the underwater environment in a way you never could be at the surface, it is not threatening. They just go about their business, and you feel lucky just to have the opportunity to see them close-up. Of course, this was only a small part of the dive--one of the other unforgetable parts was swimming through a narrow canyon and looking up to see the sun through the thick clouds of fish.

When I wasn't diving, I mostly lazed on the beach, but also spent some time exploring the island. One day I swam out to a nearby island, maybe 1/2 km swim. Feeling very confident in the waterproof case I had for my digital camera, I brought it along, and got some great underwater pictures while snorkelling. In an irony I could have done without, my camera survived the entire time in the water, only to break later that day when I dropped it in the sand while taking pictures at sunset. A cheapo disposable will have to do until I can get a shop to take it apart :(

On a brigher note, I found what would become my favorite restaurant in Thailand, which I usually ate at at least twice a day. I've discovered that the best places are usually the plain, cheap restaurants, rather than the fancy, expensive ones--they're not only much cheaper but far tastier. For less than $2, I was simply in heaven, eating a variety of curries, soup, and noodle dishes. And the nicest thing about the whole restaurant was the cheerful woman that owned it. No matter how many times I ate there, she would never neglect to formally thank me in the traditional Thai way, with a small bow with the hands together, saying "Khap kun krap, Thank You". Small gestures like that really impress me, and this image will stay with me long after I leave Thailand behind.

When I finally left Koh Tao after an expensive but wonderful week, I hopped on a ferry to Koh Phan Ngan, the next island about an hour or so by boat. I wanted to check out the "Full Moon Party", which is supposedly the largest beach party in the world. Not really my scene, but I figured I check it out since I was there at the right time. The party itself was pretty forgettable--alot of intoxicated people, both foreigners and Thais, dancing to Techno, Trance, and House music blasting from speakers placed at various points along the beach.

By far the more memorable thing about Koh Phan Ngan for me was where I stayed, which fortunately was far from the crowded beach where the Full Moon Party was. In contrast, I found an incredible bungalow, right on the water of a secluded beach with a postcard-perfect view. It was truly paradise. For about $5.50 a night I had a private bathroom and porch with a suspended hammock hanging across from one end to the other. An adjacent coconut tree provided shade from the sun, and during high tide, the water would come right up beneath the suspended hammock.

My plan was originally to leave after the party, but the perfection of my surroundings completely killed any motivation to leave, and I ended up staying another whole week. After months of non-stop travelling, I did the complete opposite, and sat on my hammock, reading and napping, for most of the day, getting up every few hours to use the bathroom or eat. I would out at the other islands visible past the bays, and loved the opportunity to notice the small details that I would have never noticed without staying as long as I did--the changing colors of the water during different times of day, the placement of the palm trees, the texture of the sand. In the afternoons, clouds would roll in and bring strong rains for half an hour or so, and I loved seeing and hearing the raindrops on the nearby water. Unfortunately I'm not very poetic when describing things like this, I wish my words could even give an idea of the beauty of this place, which is now just an image in my mind.

Finally, after a week, I decided it was time to move on and do something productive with my remaining days in Thailand. I took another ferry back to the mainland and another long overnight bus back up to Bangkok, where I caught yet another bus west, towards the Myanmar border to Kanchacaburi, home of the famous "Bridge on the River Kwai" and the Death Railway linking Thailand to Myanmar/Burma. Americans tend to learn more World War II history about Europe and don't really know much about the War in Asia. The death railway, which the Japanese forced both Allied POWs as well as Asian laborers to build, was one of the most horrific places of the war, with disease, accidents, and other causes killing many thousands of workers in the process. I enjoyed learning about this part of the War which I knew very little about. I took a tour of the area with an agency, to avoid the hassle of arranging things on my own. I had to laugh with how travel fatigued I was, when I found myself bored while visiting "just another" waterfall, hot springs, and cave, all of which I've seen at various points during my trip, and I took that as an indication that it's time for me to head home soon.

From there, I my last destination in Thailand was the ancient Siamese capital of Ayuthaya, home to countless ruins as well as functioning temples. I spent 2 days touring the ruins by motorcycle. I was impressed with the ruins themselves, but was even more impressed by their scope. There are maybe a dozen or so "main" sites, complete with tour buses filled with camera clad tourists. But beyond these sites are dozens, perhaps hundreds of smaller sites, many of which I found completely empty. I also enjoyed seeing the scenes of daily life at several functioning Buddhist "Wats", or temple. Monks going about their business, pilgrims kneeling in prayer in front of statues of the Buddha, lighting candles, etc. It's frustrating that, given my limited internet access, I need to generalize so much in this blog. Another particular image which will stick in my mind is of a group of young Thai children on a field trip to one of the ruins, sitting in front of an enormous stupa with their notebooks writing.

In Ayuthaya, I realized that there are two familiar things which I've seen more of in Thailand than anywhere in the world, one of which I expected, the other I didn't. The first is elephants, which I've seen all over the country. The second is 7-11s, which very well may outnumber elephants in the country (for those that don't know what 7-11s are, it's a convienience store which is all over the U.S., although nowhere near as much as in Thailand) I'm not sure of the significance of that, maybe something to do with the mix of old an new or something like that, I just thought it would help give an image of what the country is like beyond the postcards.

From Ayuthaya, I headed back to Bangkok this afternoon, and will fly out to London tomorrow morning, where I'll spend 4 days before flying home for Christmas. I'm looking forward to finally seeing Europe, if only briefly, but honestly I have neither the money nor, frankly, the energy to do anything to ambitious, so I doubt I'll get more than a fairly superficial look of the city, but that's better than nothing.