Going Pee Pee before Phi Phi

Upon first sight, Koh Phi Phi Is every bit as breathtaking as the photos and stories suggest.  Massive limestone cliffs tower over the clear turquoise waters – eternally silent giants that shelter and protect the island’s beauty and mystery. 

The small ferry spews a cloud of diesel exhaust into the air, and unceremoniously slams into the sides of the pier as the driver docks the boat.  Of course I exercise the worst possible timing, and am in the washroom for the collision.  I’ve just about settled myself in a precarious perch over a squatting style toilet, when  I almost fall into the murky water.  Just then I notice a man on the dock staring in at me through the wide open window.  Awesome.  I slam the window shut, realizing how close I came to following through on the old expression of “getting caught with your pants down.”

The tourists squeeze their way out of the multiple ferries that have just docked, and make their way down a long pier towards land.  We have pre-booked a guest house on the island, and are excited to dump our gear and relax for a spell.  Traveling from place to place in Thailand is effortless in that transferring from ferries, to shuttles, to buses is easy, but the actual rides can be extremely cramped and uncomfortably hot.  We trapse through a slew of market stalls and shops for about fifteen minutes, excited at the prospect of later exploration, and finally reach our final destination.  Dee Dee’s Beach House sits at the edge of the village, and in spite of it’s reasonable price, it sits right on the beach.  (Hence the name!)  Through our booking, we’ve secured the last available room, and are excited when we see that the room looks quite clean and has two large beds.  Two large windows allow the sunlight to pour into the room, and our room is literally the closest one to the beach.  We have only to open our door and take several steps to the right before our toes sink into the sand. 

As is the routine at every guesthouse, we perform a quick sweep for the presence of bedbugs.  That’s

when every joy we have about Dee Dee’s comes crashing down.  I lift up the pillow, and several of the creepy crawlies are sitting right there under the pillow.  I shudder in revulsion and break the news to Jordan.  The owners are sitting in the office across from our room, and through our window they can see us inspecting the beds.  Eventually Jordan informs them of our dilemma and they ask for us to show them.  We comply, and the lady laughs when she sees the few bugs, quite literally squishing them into the sheets with her finger.  We’re a little too grossed out to stay now, and thankfully, the woman offers to refund our room fee.  We’ve barely stepped out the door when she spots two young men approaching the guest house from the beach.  She asks them in a loud voice if they need a room, and when they respond that they do, she immediately pounces, offering them our old room.  Poor souls.  They could be in for an itchy night.

Heading back into town, we realize that there are no shortages of guest houses in the village.  Most of them are situated within the heart of the hubbub, but this suits us just fine.  We inquire at several, before finally settling on one called, “BanThai Guesthouse.”  The lady, Miss Lee, is nuts in the best sort of way.  Perky and chipper, she repeats our names several times, appearing to take a real interest in us.  We shortly realize that this is as much a part of a strategy to upsell us on matters ranging for the number of nights we want to stay, to booking tours with her.  None-the-less, she is still a charming little woman, with a keen sense for business in the ultra-competitive tourist industry.

Our room is located on the top floor, and the stairs that preview  them are nothing short of a miniature workout.  Steep and narrow, they wind upwards into the stifling heat of the third level.  They are so shallow that just over half of my foot can rest upon each stair. (I later learn to walk down the stairs with a slightly sideways gait.)  The once shiny metal handrail that flows along side the stairs  is now cloudy with the fingerprinted grease from sweaty hands and slick sunscreen.  I think better of my initial reaction to grab it.

We are pleased upon entering our room, as it is large and clean.   The mattresses are comfy, and best of all – bedbug free!  The hot water is definitely a tad on the bipolar side, choosing when it does and doesn’t want to make an appearance, but all that matters to us is that we’re able to shower.   An air conditioner juts out from one wall, and as we later find out, has the ability to chill the bones of the devil himself. 

The next day we find ourselves climbing to the several viewpoints that overlook the island.  While the day is overcast, the scenary is spectacular, and we decide to continue on to other remote parts of the island.  We encounter wild monkeys on our trek, and though the intelligent animals look approachable and friendly, we maintain our distance for fear of any nasty monkey bites.  We eventually find ourselves on a remote beach, where the only establishment seems to be a campsite and a small restaurant.  As we wander through the palms towards the set-up, we encounter several signs that proclaim, “NO ISRAELI!” Other words are painted in bright slashes across old tires saying, “We do not serve Israelis! Thank you!”  You think the  owner maybe has something against them? His loss really, as Israeli tourists account for a huge portion of the Thailand tourism.

We eventually decide to make the long walk back to the village, as we are drenched with sweat and are covered in bug bites from our foray through the thick jungle.  That night, we recline against the headboards of our beds and enjoy some of the local market fare, coupled with snacks from the ever-popular 7-11.

The next few days are spent in a lazy fashion, with us strolling around the markets and taking some time to plan our next journey.   We decide that we need to take in some night life while we are here, and Saturday night finds us down at the beach bars.  Loud music blares from the speakers, and two young Thai men swing a large jump rope.  The only catch is that the jump rope is actually on fire.  Giddy young tourists, beers in hand, take turns venturing into the eye of the firey jump rope’s storm.  Some are decent at avoiding the flames – others, not so much.

Eventually this leads into the lighting of another flame fueled activity – the limbo.  Shimmying under the flames, laughing people fight for the title of champion, but alas they are no match for the locals.  Having filled our fun quota for the night, Jordan and I return to our comfortable room, and drift to sleep, the sounds of screaming party-goers and pounding bass rhythms a far-off rumble in the distance.

Of course the highlight of visiting Phi Phi is a trip to Phi Phi Ley, a smaller island that floats just twenty minutes away from the larger island.  It lays claim to the famous Maya Bay, along with many other gorgeous little bays and inlets.  We had originally planned to embark on a tour that offers overnight camping on Maya Bay, but the offer is unavailable because of the low season.  We are informed of another option however, and it sounds equally as exciting.  It is an opportunity to snorkel among the phosphorescence in Maya Bay.  We are intrigued by the sound of this, and with it costing less than half of the camping trip we had originally budgeted for, we decide that it will be a worthy investment. 

A worthy investment it is.  Our boat is a delightful old wooden sea craft, with floor seating on the open top level.  We clamber up the two ladders, and secure a spot near the bow.  Within minutes we are chugging slowly towards our first stop on the itinerary – Monkey Bay.  Aptly named, this bay is apparently home to dozens on monkeys that frequent the beach.  We don’t spot any, but are just as content snorkeling in the clear waters that teem with fish.  At one point, the guides start throwing bread into the water around us, and we shriek as swarms of fish envelop us in frantic clusters.

We later make our way to the smaller island of Phi Phi Ley, turning into a secluded bay.  The driver anchors the boat, and we leap off of the top deck into the inviting waters below.  Swimming to shore, we climb onto the rocks and up a steep staircase that leads into the vast jungles of the island.  Anticipating the famous glimpse of Maya Bay, we trot down a pleasant little path that is well-worn with the footprints of thousands of the same eager visitors.

As we round a bend in the trail, the towering cliffs of Maya Bay make themselves known.  The impressive limestone formations wrap themselves around most of the bay, lending the area of sense of secrecy and seclusion.  The mass jumble of tourists is starting to thin out, and we once again rejoice at the precision timing of our tour.

The next couple of hours seem to pass at lightening speed, as we bask in the exquisiteness of our surroundings.  Finally, our guide gathers us back together, and motions for us to follow him in swimming past some striking rock walls.  It soon becomes apparent that his intended destination is another smaller beach that graces the far side of the bay.  As we stagger up on to the sand, we soon appreciate his reasons, as the sunset from this particular vantage point is without equal.  Clicks from cameras can be heard all around, and as the sun starts to sink behind the cliffs, we see our cheerful little boat, gently rocking in the mouth of the bay.

Our guide then indicates that we are to swim back out to the boat. (Pictured in the sunset photo above)  I admit that I’m a bit taken aback by this, because it’s quite a swim from the beach out to the boat.  Having spent a good deal of my life in the waters of the glorious Shuswap Lake, I’m comfortable with the notion, but can’t imagine everyone else feeling the same.  My thoughts are confirmed when several people proclaim that they are not very strong swimmers.  (Maybe more consideration should have gone into their choice of tour!) 

I’m certainly struggling to breathe normally by the time I haul myself up on to the boat.  The first one back, I plop down on a seat and enjoy watching the numerous dog paddles that emerge from the quickly darkening waters.  Soon people are dragging themselves back onto the deck, and dripping bodies soon congregate on the upper level.  The small workout was apparently enough to incur serious cravings, and it doesn’t take long before half of the vessel’s occupants have lit cigarettes.  I shrink away from the billowing white clouds and watch from the bow of the boat as the glow of burning orange dots fill the darkened sky.

Dinner is announced, and soon we are passing around large bowls of rice, baked potatoes, and freshly cooked fish.  After hours of swimming, the hot food is delicious, and plates are being passed around for seconds. 

Lightening flashes off in the distance, and to me this seems now a habitual nighttime occurance.  Our guide announces that it’s time to snorkel with the glowing plankton.  Many people are nervous about this, and even express disbelief that there will actually be anything worth seeing in the water.  But already I can see snake-like formations of glowing green lights hovering below the water’s surface.  Jordan and I are among the first to jump off of the boat, and our cries of appreciation for the phosphorescent spectacle that surrounds us encourages others to follow.  With our masks on, we see nothing but the black water that shrouds us.  Then we begin to kick our arms and legs, and within moments we are swimming through what looks like a galaxy of green and blue stars.  They are everywhere, floating above and below us – even sometimes clinging to our arms as we step on to the boat. 

The next day marks our intended departure from Phi Phi.  We say goodbye to the beautiful island, and climb aboard the ferry, settling in for the two hour journey back to the mainland.  Once there, we pile into a bus that will take us a Bangkok.  The vehicle is packed with people, and only the top floor seems to hold passengers.  One look and I can already tell that Jordan and I will not be able to sit together.  In a huff, I plod back down the stairs, and look for some other seating.  I see a few people disappear behind a small door beside the washroom and follow them.   Stepping into what can only be a private VIP area, I glance around in appreciation. 

"Hurry, shut the door so no one else sees us!" A German girl proclaims.    

"Do we have to pay extra for this area?" I ask.

"I'm not sure but let's just stay and see if they kick us out."

No one comes to shuffle us out, so once the bus rumbles to life, we lean back and enjoy our surroundings.  Three large couches form a half circle at the front of the room, and behind them sits a large tv.  Jordan and I are sprawled out on two nicely reclined leather seats that face the couches.  For the next several hours, we revel in the luxury that surrounds us, before a small Thai man pokes his head in the door and exclaims that all Bangkok passengers are transferring to another bus.  Darn.

This turns out to be a huge bummer, not only because this bus has no secret little room, but for several other reasons.  We're making our trip down the nighttime highway when suddenly a heart-stopping "BANG" wakes us from restless dozes.  You can hear the exclamations of surprise that resound throughout the coach, and we've soon deduced that the bus has sustained a flat tire.  It takes the employees around an hour to fix the problem, and after they pile back into the bus, we settle back to resume the journey.

Only... the bus won't start.  It coughs and tries to roar into the land of the living, but fails miserably.  We soon hear the clank of tools, and the jabbering shouts of the bus driver and his companions as they try to resolve the problem.  Finally, we find ourselves pulling away from the side of the road, and the coach once again echoes with the breathy snores of the sleeping passengers.

We arrive into the congested nightmare that is Bangkok traffic around 6:30am.  Slowly waking, we peer out into the overcast sky and marvel at the snarl of vehicles that seems to flow from every direction.  Buses full of sleep deprived school kids slowly squeeze into the flow, and scooters squeeze through any space they can.  Then, our bus breaks down.  Again.  Right in the middle of traffic.

The tools come out, but this time, the problem is resolved quicker.  This happens several more times before we finally stagger off of the bus, eager to stretch our legs and find a place to indulge in some real sleep.

Thailand Fact of the Day:
While the coach style buses in this country can be quite comfortable and nice, the bathrooms on board are nothing short of repulsive.  It is a toilet that you would NEVER consider sitting on unless you considered catching some vile disease a part of the cultural experience.  Dirty sewage water floats in the very shallow bowl, as there is no authentic flush system.  To the side of the toilet, there is simply a basin with a bowl in which you are supposed to ladle water into the toilet, eventually causing it to (sort of?) flush.  While back in NZ, I knew that I might encounter circumstances such as these, and purchased a device called a "Sheewee," (allows girls to pee like guys... sounds weird I know) and I am SO THANKFUL that I did.