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Here is the 4th installment from our trip to Thailand in which we finally arrive at the island Kho Pha Ngan. This gorgeous flower photo is one of Adam’s– isn’t he good?

Across the plank, and we had arrived! Rejecting all of the taxi drivers, Adam and I took in the panorama. Bright turquoise water under an aqua sky. Across the water, Kho Samui rose up green and lush. The midday heat radiated from the dusty concrete as we walked into the town. We stopped to book our return ferry, email a few friends, and call our bungalow. A guide book had told us about Leela Beach on the Southern tip, a small laid-back beach just below the highly touristed beach of Haad Rin. We were ready to head to our beach.

We found the taxi stand and jumped into the back of a pick-up truck with planks on each side for seats. For 50 Baht per person, the truck wound up, down, around. The concrete road was broken and cracked, and the bumpy ride led us alongside motorbike shops, bamboo huts, open markets and gnarly jungle patches. The island narrowed toward the southern tip, and we could see patches of bright blue ocean between the passing palm trees. After we drove through Haad Rin, the concrete road became rocky dirt. I imagined how difficult it would be to navigate the bumps and divots, sharp inclines and curves on a motorbike. Apparently motorbike accidents are the leading cause of injury in Kho Pha Ngan. We passed a few gorgeous resorts and huts, and then our truck taxi turned down a bumpy hill into the Leela Beach Bungalows.

After so much travel and anticipation, I felt immediately disappointed as we stepped over branches along the dirt path to the thatched canopy that was the restaurant and reception area. Three sunburned, tattooed white guys in sarongs huddled around a laptop computer watching the final scene of last year’s romantic movie, “The Holiday”. A very large Thai girl and a beefy shirtless Thai guy with tribal tattoos and a silver ball in his left nostril greeted us. The very large Thai girl led us down the beach, littered with piles of seaweed, bits of coral and branches. The incredible ocean view was overshadowed by scraggly bushes, overgrown in the sand.

There was our hut, number 003. It was surely quaint when it was built in 1983, on bamboo stilts, thatched roof, tiny twiggy porch, but the wear of 25 years was obvious.

“Is this okay?” the very large Thai girl asked us.

No! I thought. But we were exhausted, overheated, and our backpacks weighed heavily on our sunburned shoulders. “Yes, thanks.”

She handed us the key and shuffled out. Adam and I swung our backpacks onto the bed, and I noticed the blanket was covered in sand and debris that had blown in through the holes in the thatched roof.

With no where to sit but the filthy bed, we dragged ourselves back to the canopy area to unwind from our long journey from Bangkok. We were both in thoroughly foul moods. Adam and I sat side by side on hard wood chairs on the uneven concrete under the thatched canopy and stared across the water. Adam’s face and bare chest had turned a deep purpley red. I felt queasy and exhausted from the all night bus ride and too much sun. My sunburn had set in, but it was nothing compared to Adam’s. I went to the counter and asked if they had any aloe, but they pointed me up the beach toward Haad Rin. I wanted to see something more the beautiful Thailand I had heard about, so I coated sunscreen on my already sunburned face and shoulders. I kissed Adam good bye and went on an afternoon expedition. I walked up the littered beach, and as I passed the last of the Leela Beach Bungalows, the scenery changed.

The beach was clear, as though it had been raked that morning, the palm and flowering trees were neatly trimmed and swaying languidly in the tropical breeze, and the resort was set beautifully on the beach. I walked a little further and saw a second sprawling resort with a wide open restaurant and gathering area. People lounged on pillows around low tables on the vast, covered, wooden patio. I stepped up onto the patio and followed the meandering boardwalk beside the pool, in front of several little cabins with hammocks hung on each large porch, past a multi-unit guest house.

This had to be the place for us. Coco Hut Village. It felt good– like the resort Adam and I enjoyed on our honeymoon in Cabo, Mexico. I wandered along the winding boardwalk until I found the reception office and learned that the rooms in the guest house were within our limited price-range, and there was a vacancy. Good to know!

The young receptionist directed me up over the hill and down a long concrete stairway to the convenience store on the East side of the island. I stocked up on aloe gel for our sunburns.

As I began walking back, I noticed another patch of bungalows at the base of the concrete staircase. They were somewhere between the quality of our current bungalow and that of the Coco Hut guest house. Wanting options, I stepped into their canopied restaurant and told the three people on the couch that I was interested in seeing a room. In unison, the three looked up to the counter, and out sauntered a lanky asian guy with rock star sunglasses and long wavy hair clipped into a low ponytail.

“Sawadeekaa,” I greeted him.

“Yeah, hi, I’m not Thai. I’m Malaysian,” he teased. “Welcome to my home. You want to stay?”

I told him “maybe,” and asked to see the cheapest place. He grabbed a key from behind the counter and strode out ahead of me. Then he stopped, flashed a smile back at over the top of his sunglasses, and stuck out his elbow expectantly. I paused, smirked, gave him two pats on the shoulder and kept walking.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Jessica, and yours?”

“Jeffrey. Jeffrey Johnson.”

“That’s not your name. What’s your given name?”

“Jeffrey Johnson, nice to meet you.”

We climbed a few steps to the bungalow, and he unlocked the door. It was nice and clean with two twin beds. I asked if there was a cheap hut with a double bed. Jeffrey Johnson coyly raised his eyebrows and asked how many people would be staying. I told him that I was traveling with my husband. “Oh, that’s okay. We can be friends.”

I was ready to return to Adam with his aloe. Jeffrey Johnson asked if I would return to stay there, and I said I’d talk to my husband and maybe see him later.

“My bungalows are beautiful and a good price. You also have a free place to stay in my heart.” Heh… thanks.

Up the concrete stairs, down the hill, through the beautiful Coco Hut Village, past the neighboring resort, and back to the seaweed covered beach. Adam and I ate delicious green curry prepared by the very large Thai girl (at least their food was delicious), played several hands of gin rummy, then went to bed knowing that in the morning, we would move down the beach to the guest house at Coco Hut Village.

-Jessica

next… short stories from the week on the island.