"The only downer is, everyone's got the same idea. We all travel thousands of miles just to watch TV and check in to somewhere with all the comforts of home, and you gotta ask yourself, what is the point of that?"
- The Beach
I arrive at the Old Town Hostel shortly before eight o' clock as instructed but the tour operated who's to drive me to the ferry is late. The receptionist serves me the complimentary breakfast -tea, toast and a banana- even though I haven't yet spent the night. I sit with another lone woman, from South Africa, who tells me Thailand is just an appendage to her dream trip to India. We have, needless to say, much to talk about but we're soon joined by the Chinese Canadian guest from Vancouver.
"Augh," she says when I tell her I'm also Canadian and specify Winnipeg, "the mosquitoes so biiiig. Like birds, and so many too," she tells my South African friend who looks at me with round, questioning eyes.
"Well, small birds," I shrug.
"You must be here to be away from winter," the animated Chinese lady continues.
"Actually," I confess, "I kind of miss the winter." I feel foolish admitting this. Escaping winter was, after all, part of what made this plan seem so brilliant to me in the first place.
"Augh," she says again wrinkling her nose, "so cold in Winterpeg. So much snow. Not for me."
Then my ride arrives and I dash out the door calling safe travels back to my breakfast companions.
By the time I get on the ferry all the seats on deck are taken and, not wanting to sit inside, I push my way to the front of the boat, find a small space amidst the other lounging tourists, lean my back against the cabin and sit directly on deck. I eavesdrop on snippets of German and French conversations about scuba diving and Bangkok, until the engines clank and clatter then roar too life.
As the boat pulls away from the pier a voice comes over the tinny loudspeaker warning those of us sitting on or near the prow to move or we will be sprayed. A few people make their way towards the back but most us are willing to get a little wet. After all, we're all on our way to either dive or beach.
The first wave to come over sends most of the crowd running. I smile but I'm sitting far enough to the side of the boat I was only mildly sprayed so I remain, smugly, in my place. A minute later another wave breaks over the prow and this time I am thoroughly soaked. I leap to my feet, grab my bag and head towards the doors but the deck is now slippery and I nearly topple over the rail when my bare feet lose traction at the same moment a wave rocks the boat.
The air conditioning inside is uncomfortably cold, especially now that I'm wet, but there's nowhere else to sit so I dry off as best I can and use my towel as a shawl. I pull a book from my bag but I'm only a few sentences in when the toddler in front of me starts playing peek-a-boo. Unable to resist the distraction we spend most of the hour long trip amusing each other with our funniest faces and disappearing tricks. His French Canadian father is almost as amused with me as his son is.
"'e is not alwayz so friendly to strangurez," he says.
"Well, I'm not always this strange," I shrug, bringing my thumb to my nose, wiggling my fingers and sticking out my tongue, causing them both to laugh.
The ferry makes three stops and they disembark at the first. When my new friend realizes I'm not going with them he begins to cry. I give him a small heart shaped key chain and he waves sadly at me from over his father's shoulder as he's carried away.
The ferry slows to point out islands where various movies have been filmed, including The Beach, and we all gather on deck with cameras in hand to snap pictures of the giant, lush green rock towers rising out of the ocean, looming like large sentinels over the clear teal water.
By the time the ferry has transferred the hundred or so scuba divers to smaller boats and drops the twenty of us who remain on Phi Phi Island it's well past noon. After paying the entry fee, as if entering an amusement park, I wander down the water front in search of food and there is no shortage.
Phi Phi is a massive tourist trap of Australian bars, European restaurants, and French cafes amidst the usual infinity of souvenir shops selling t-shirts, sarongs and flip flops that populate all resort towns. Every shop is filled to the rafters with exactly the same merchandise as the one next to it, as if in defiant challenge of the Western economic theory of supply and demand.
I find a vendor selling "Thai" pancakes. They look like crepes, which I've made very successfully with rice flour, so I ask what they're made from.
"Milk," is the startling answer.
"Uh-huh," I say, suspecting a miscommunication. "But what kind of flour?" I ask again.
"Flour? No flour," comes the confused and befuddled answer. "Milk!"
My desire wins out over my reason and sanity and I order one, deciding I should be able to taste the wheat flour if there is any. While I wait for my order though, I am suddenly seized with the fear that the vendor thought I saying "flower" which would account for the astonished reaction to the question.
When it's served, it arrives on a banana leaf plate with blueberry sauce. I hesitate for a moment before taking a bite, sweating more from fear than the heat but, if there's wheat flour, I can't tell. I decide to enjoy it; it's too late to prevent getting sick now.
After lunch I set off to find the beach, but when I do the tide is out and there's nothing but pink and white tourists beached along the mud flats of the exposed ocean floor. I take a walk around the island but it's so overrun with drunk and high tourists, I can't find anything to like. Even the "Tsunami Village" eludes me. I can see remnants of the disaster everywhere, but even following the signs I can't seem to find this "point of interest".
With only an hour left until the ferry heads back I resign myself to partaking in what the island seems to have to offer: shopping. I buy two scarves, realizing I have nothing to cover my head on my kayak trip, and a much needed pair of pants before heading back to the ferry in hopes of being early enough to find a seat on deck.
Thai Pancakes
2 1/2 cp or 20fl oz coconut milk
2/4 cp (3.4 oz) rice flour 3 eggs, well beaten 1/2 cp (4 oz) sugar
1/2 cup shredded coconut pinch salt vegetable oil Pour the coconut milk into a mixing bowl. Add rice flour and well-beaten eggs and blend well, then add the sugar and beat until it dissolves. Fold in the shredded coconut. Rub an omlet pan with a paper towel and heat to moderate. Pour a large spoonful of the batter into the pan and cook until flecks of brown appear underneath. Turn and lightly cook the other side. Cook the remainder of the batter in the same way, keeping pancakes warm. Roll each pancake up into a tight cylinder. Scatter with the remaining coconut. Serve warm or at room temperature.
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