South East Asia on a Hamstring – February 7

February 7, 2000

The five of us convened in the restaurant for a goodbye lunch. It was crowded with other travelers. A young, attractive woman went from table to table, conversing with each table and handing out two-sided pieces of paper to the diners.

“Excuse me,” I said, “what group are you with?” I thought they were Explore and I was kicking myself for having not sprung the extra $900 for their services.

“Intrepid,” she said.

Her name was Kate and she let us have a copy of her handout. It listed all kinds of activities in the area, along with prices and phone numbers for booking.

Instead of getting handouts that said, “go for it, free day” and “it’s another free day in heaven,” we could’ve been rock climbing, learning Thai cookery, or

learning batik painting. There was a host of activities in the area, and we all ruefully stared at the handout, too amused at the irony of getting this now to be angry.

The owner of the resort was driving his pickup truck into Krabi “right now” so I grabbed my bag and hastily said goodbye to Gerry and Lorraine. Jitu and Pratima were going into town with me to line up their transport to Bangkok as they were also disenchanted and leaving the trip.

The resort owner, Tom Henley, turned out to be a very interesting fellow who had written a number of books on Southeast Asia. He told us that the oldest son in a Thai family was responsible for taking care of the father and the youngest son was responsible for taking care of the mother. He wasn’t sure what would happen in a family of all daughters.

He showed Jitu and Pratima how to properly take the songthaew back – they wouldn’t have to ride on the back of a stranger’s motorcycle. He showed us the street that had been doctored up to look like Bangkok’s Khao San Road for the movie “The Beach” and told us that the producers had hired 300 backpackers as extras. They played themselves. He dropped us off at the Thai Air office and Jitu and Pratima bought their tickets.

I hugged Pratima and Jitu goodbye and headed to the bus station.

It was a frightful sight, brimming with tan, lanky, scantily-clad backpackers. I joined them, blending in and loading my pack onto the bus. I was suddenly one of the masses and it was good to be traveling alone again, without the padding of a group.

The bus loaded up and we left for Bangkok. “Deep Blue Sea” showed on the video monitor and then I coughed myself to sleep.

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