As I begin to write this, I sit in the restaurant of my home for the last 6 days - the Long Island Resort in Koh Samui, Thailand. My table is about 20 easy steps through the sand to the beautiful blue water, and as the tide gently laps at the beach a slight, steady wind is cooling my tired, sunburned body. But don't get me wrong - the tiredness I feel is sheer joy. It is a pleasant exhaustion, born of swimming all day, hiking in jungles, eating fine Thai curries, partying, and spending late nights enjoying the breeze from a beautiful sala (a sort of Thai porch), talking about anything and everything that floated into my mind. Sound like I'm in a good mood? You better damn well believe it! Let me tell you about how I got here...
A week and a half ago I was sitting in Jinnah International Airport in Karachi, a shell of my usual self. When I last wrote of my travels, I had completed a 2 day worldwind tour of Cairo and was flying to Pakistan. For the next 7 weeks, my grand tour of the world ground to a halt, and it was replaced by some kind of grueling marathon - the Tour de France of familial obligations. I don't want to sound too negative about it - like the bicyclists in that race, completing the marathon was a satisfying and perhaps once-in-a-lifetime experience. But, it was hard, and it centered around the largest single event every Pakistani family hopes to put on some day - a shadi (wedding). Shadis in Karachi are usually scheduled around December for a variety of reasons - the weather is relatively good, people living abroad have holidays and can come, and it is a favorable time of year on the Islamic calendar. But, as many grandchildren in our family have completed their degrees and are at marrying age, December 2002 proved to be a particulary insane wedding season for our family, as I had 5 first cousins getting hitched within a 5 week span. Of course, with so many weddings, every person in our far-flung family made an extra effort to make it to Karachi, and what ensued was a huge family reunion. Every night there was something going on, and everyone got to reconnect with both their homeland and each other. But, of course, the weddings had precedence, and at one point I had attended about 18 nights in a row of formal dress functions (and for a non-traditionalist such as myself, that was about 17 too many). To truly understand the massiveness of a Pakistani shadi (much less 4 at once), please read Anatomy of a Pakistani Wedding, a little article I have written that has links to pictures and videos that help to illustrate this colorful process. You can also view the pictures from all 4 shadis here.
Anyway, after this marathon everyone's body pretty much shut down, and practically the entire family emerged from the process with a fever. Mine was 102, and lasted for a few days (with another few days tacked onto the end for recovery), so after postponing my departure for Malaysia one week, I was finally at the airport, ready to let the wanderlust begin to flow once again. My mother and cousin Mariam (henceforth to be know as Mugzie) dropped me off at the airport, and after negotiating the usual sea of bodies I made it, backpack on my back and energy starting to return, to the Malaysian Airlines counter.
Ali: Hello - checking in for Kuala Lumpur.
Pakistani Malaysian Airlines agent: Sorry sir, you cannot check in.
Ali: What is the problem?
Pakistani Malaysian Airlines agent: The plane is having some engine trouble.
Ali: But we just called earlier today and the departure was on time.
Pakistani Malaysian Airlines agent: Yes, but now there is a problem.
Ali: Ok, how long is the delay?
Pakistani Malaysian Airlines agent: Indefinite.
Ali: Ok, so what am I supposed to do?
Pakistani Malaysian Airlines agent: Wait. We will post to the board when we have information.
So, after getting all psyched up to restart my travels, my mission was dealt a temporary blow. But, no worries - waiting in airports is a skill of mine, and as I settled into the departure lounge I scanned around to see what pursuits I may find to pass the time. There were two immediate options - Intel had provided free Internet kiosks (quite a thing for Pakistan, where half the passengers have their 'luggage' wrapped in boxes and duct tape and look like they have never even been in a car, much less a plane) for the travellers, but the more attractive option was to try and talk to a hip looking Paki sitting across from me. Always one to choose people over computers, I struck up a conversation with him at once. His name was Zeeshan, and he was going back to his job in Sydney after attending the wedding season in Karachi. He had come dangerously close to getting hitched himself, but as of yet had not nailed down anything. His friend (whom he had met on the plane to Karachi from Sydney a good 3 weeks before) Ali Raza soon showed up, and we three spent the time chatting, guarding each other's luggage, and trying to find out what we could about our disabled aricraft. Both guys were a bit like me - mid to late 20s, single, living abroad and back to attend weddings - but they were both Pakistani-born and raised and decidedly more desi than I. Like most people, they got a kick out of my whole CaliPaki mix (and the naivety regarding my home country that comes with it), and as they tried to convince me that I should forget western chicks and go Paki, the Pakistani Malaysian Airlines agent came over and told us that our plane would not be fixed, and that they were going to re-route us through Bangkok on Thai International. It was 10PM at this point, our original flight was supposed to leave at 11PM, and the Thai International flight wasn't leaving until 3AM. Before we could ask him any questions, the Pakistani Malaysian Airlines agent stealthily disappeared and was never heard from again. For the next three hours, we waited and waited for him to come back, for someone from Thai International to show up, for an airport official - anyone with useful information would have been greeted like a long lost brother. But, no one was there, and finally we got word from another passenger that the Thai International counter would open at 1AM and that we should just check in with our Malaysian Airlines tickets then. Eventually, the Thai International people did show up, but they were a bit suprised when we told them all of Malaysia Airlines' passengers were now on their flight, and that once in Bangkok they would have to get us over to Kuala Lumpur (KL). After much hassle (and a 5 hour delay that was growing by the minute, as our original plane was to put us in KL at 8AM), we got seats on the flight (Zeeshan, Ali Raza and I being the absolute last people on the plane) and headed for Bangkok, unsure of what awaited us there.
When I mentioned to my two new friends that I had heard Malayasia Airlines has a good reputation, they both answered that it was true and that they were good. The problem, they explained, was not with the airline, but with our own country. In KL when they were coming to Pakistan, a similar thing had happened to them. The staff there had apologized profusely and offered them an array of options, one of which was an overnight stay at a nice hotel at the airport while they waited. But, since we were in Pakistan and the staff was Pakistani, no one took ownership over anything and, in fact, bolted the minute they had the opportunity. This, in my estimation, is what separates places like Pakistan and places like America or Malaysia in terms of achievement - taking responsibility and pride in a job well done, regardless of whom it was for or how meaningless it may have been, allows for a country to grow and get better. Not to say that the whole of Pakistan operates in this manner, but there is a general apathy to the country that really undermines its ability to rise up and fulfill the promise that everyone believes it has. Maybe it is from years of corrupt politicians, broken promises, meddling outsiders or lost wars - in their 50+ years of collective existence Pakistanis have suffered one setback after another. Maybe with some leadership the country could steady itself, assume a positive stance, and instill the pride to see a job well done back into the common people. But, that is a big maybe, and for now the fiasco at Jinnah International just reinforced the tinge of sadness that always accompanies me in my thoughts of the homeland.
But, enough with that - back to the travelling! Once in Bangkok, the three of us hooked up with another couple involved with the odyssey and demanded free lunch while we waited for our flight to KL (which, after another long line, we had gotten for 4PM that afternoon). After the meal (which was maybe the crappiest Thai food I have ever eaten), my companions all started looking around for a spot to perform their afternoon prayers. I was somewhat taken by suprise - I had been hanging with these two guys throughout the night, they were regular dudes just like me, and they were all worried about finding a clean, quiet spot to pray! I cannot imagine such a thought ever entering most people I know's head. This is the beauty of the Muslim mind - he is always thinking of his creator because he must pray 5 times a day. With that comes a level of centering I'm sure - why get pissed off about that guy who cut you off if you have to go be with your God in a few minutes? But again, I digress - we finally made our flight and, after a delay totalling 14 hours, landed in KL.
I bid my new friends adieu, taking their email addresses and promising to get in touch when I rolled through Sydney. KL International Airport is a beautiful facility - state-of-the-art and very easy to navigate. I put myself onto the express train into the city center, and 30 minutes later arrived in the town I had heard so much about. But, this meeting was to only be a passing fling - although I had planned on staying a week, my cousin Mugzie had asked me to accompany her and her friend on a vacation to Thailand. Most Pakistani families would not allow two single girls to take such a trip, but my family is pretty liberal, and Mugzie's dad (my uncle) had allowed her to go, but only if I was there to make sure all was cool. So, I was to be in KL only 36 hours before heading off to Koh Samui in Thailand, and after checking into the Hotel Malaya in KL's large Chinatown, I slept the better part of the next day, waking only to buy my ticket to Thailand, get a haircut, and to view the magnificient Petronas Twin Towers. But, I will relate my KL experiences another time, as I will spend a week there after Samui.
Because, of course, the rest of this entry must be devoted to Koh Samui. Unlike most stops on my superduper grand travelling extravaganza, Koh Samui was not chosen by me. It was, in fact, chosen by Mugzie's friend Mahvesh. Mahvesh works in television production (both on and off camera) in Pakistan, and had just landed a rather large deal to host 13 episodes of a new BBC interview show to be based in Pakistan. But, she had about a month off before it started, and had convinced Mugzie to go to Koh Samui for some much needed beach relaxation time (Mugzie's sister, my cousin Bano, had just been through the shadi wringer and Mugzie had been at the controls for much of it). So, I landed in Samui not knowing much but that I was to check into the Blue Horizon bungalows, where they would already be. As I came through customs in the tiny airport (which felt more like an island resort than an airport), I tried to figure out how to get some Thai currency (bhats) to pay a cab (it was 11PM, everything was shut, and I was going to get screwed by the one cab driver there) but was pleasantly suprised to see Mugzie and Mahvesh ride up in a big truck, ready to whisk me away. Half delirious, they began to tell me of their day in hell - arriving at the Blue Horizon in the morning, finding it was a dump (it had no beach, 100s of steps up a cliff to get anything, shitty service and practically no one staying there), trekking through the hot Thai sun from place to place trying to find something better, and finally, at the last minute, finding a cool place with room for both them and me. As they finished their tale, we pulled into our place and I saw Long Island's gate, which looked awfully familiar. I pulled out my free Samui guide from the plane, and there it was - Long Island had been featured in the guide as the place where Fox's Temptation Island had been filmed. I believe the guide said something like 'Although used for Temptation Island, ordinary people can stay there to and try and ruin their relationships as well'. So, with a quick look around for any super hot sluts, I checked in, took a dip in the ocean, went to sleep and dreamed of the possibilities.
The next couple of days were spent in ultra relaxation mode - the three of us (Mugzie, Mahvesh and I) proved to be compatible travelmates and we all enjoyed each other's company while swimming alternately in the sea or in the pool, eating fine local food, and checking out the variety of leisure activities at the resort. I had been a bit worried about Mahvesh - I did not know her, and wasn't sure what to expect. She turned out to be an asset rather than an albatross - a smart, pretty girl who was up for doing fun stuff and usually good for interesting conversation. I rented a 100cc scooter and toured the island by myself the second day - Samui is pretty small and the circumference can be driven in about 2 1/2 hours. I was very impressed with the quality of both the roads and the signs - in Karachi even the nicest parts of town have roads with huge potholes in them. I was sharing the roads with some locals, some red pickup trucks with shells on the back that act as taxis, and hordes of vacationers from almost every place in the world driving rented scooters, motorcycles and jeeps. It seemed like some kind of large, exotic play land - nobody was wearing helmets, very little clothing was to be seen, and bright jungle, beach and blue water around every bend. Driving around this little island paradise, with my shirt open and the breeze cooling me down whilst the tropical sun warmed me from above, I began to regain the swagger that my trip has afforded me. Life is good (mine in particular), and I am lucky to be living it. Hells yeah!
Samui has pretty much everything for everyone, as far as island resorts go. There are beautiful beaches, warm water (although I didn't see any surf or surfers around), virgin jungle forests, exotic animals, touristy shopping places, 5 star resorts, hostels, and a huge nightlife/party scene (more on that later). After lounging primarily at Long Island for two days and feeling in full island mode, the three of us rented a jeep and took off on a tour of the island, ready to see the sites. We went to a butterfly park, which was set in the jungle and had the hugest butterflies I have ever seen (girl's choice), and then we went to Hin Lad waterfall, which the guide book said was the nicest waterfall on the island and a pleasant 2km hike up to the top, where there was a natural pool amongst the granite rocks (my choice). After first missing the trail and making the girls (who were not really the the hiking type) scramble over rocks up the river bed, we finally found the trail and started a slow, steady climb. The weather was hot and sticky, and climbing up the jungle track I began to have that old 'Platoon' feeling, when me and my homies back home used to run around in the rain on Mt. Tam's muddy slopes. As I started to settle in and enjoy the hike, I cast a glance back at my two companions, and the dejection on their faces was plainly evident. We stopped for some water, and the next hour was spent hiking slowly, with me alternately feeling guilty about dragging them up the hill or glad to see them take on the physical challenge. But, eventually we got there (with one priceless moment being when we saw a tall German lady coming down the trail, and when we asked her how much longer it was, she looked at her stopwatch and said with stern precision '14 minutes'), and although the waterfall wasn't too spectacular, the pool was worth it (at least for me, anyway). We relaxed for a bit, and then made our descent back to the trailhead, with me trying to make sure the girls didn't slip and break their neck at every marginally hairy juncture. As I helped, I kept repeating the phrase 'slow, deliberate steps' to try and be as reassuring and calming as possible. Of course, we made it down without a hitch, but the first thing I did back at the trailhead is step into a slab of freshly poured concrete on the sidewalk (which, for the record, had no warning signs posted or anything). A bit pissed, I hurried over to the river to wash my shoe and foot, and as I got to the bank I slipped and fell in, bag and all (much to the delight of my two gals). As I came back, they giggled, Mugzie said 'slow, deliberate steps' with a grin, and we were off.
Other highlights included a beautiful sunset and dinner on the western side of the island, and a day spent snorkelling on a smaller island called Koh Tan. Although there weren't too many fish, it was fun, as we had a boat pretty much to the three of us and a couple from New Zealand for the day for only about $10 each. The beach at Koh Tan where we had lunch was absolutely the best one of the visit - deserted, with white sand, still water and the reef about a 100 yards out so that there were no rocks in the water near the beach (a particular attraction, as we had been stubbing toes at our Long Island beach all week). As our New Zealand friends lathered on layer after layer of sunblock, we three Pakis scoffed at their honkiness and brazenly went about our snorkelling without a care in the world. In fact, I may have even uttered the words 'I never burn' which, of course, was a silly slap in the face of the UV Gods, who proceeded to torch my skin with a vengeance. I have never experienced the snake-like sensation of all the skin on your back peeling off, and now that I have, once is enough.
The full moon parties of neighboring Koh Phangan are legendary, and there are speedboats that take people from Koh Samui there and back when the party is on. We had arrived one day late to attend the January one, but it was probably for the best, as I heard various reports asserting that these parties had been infiltrated by rookies who ended up destroying themselves, the beach and each other. But, we did have our own scene at the resort, which every night had people lounging at the restaurant late into the night meeting different people from all over the world. Desmond, one of the owners of the resort, was particularly kind to us. Half from London half from New York, he had worked for years in fashion photography and had somehow scored this beautiful place with a couple of partners. He flowed us whatever information or vice we asked for, and invited us to a party he threw for his girlfriend's birthday where we met some locals and gorged on free food and drink. Although one night we did go into Chaweng Beach (the main party zone of Samui) to hang out (at a bar called DragonBay, which was situated on the beach and had mats and cushions on the sand where we sipped our drinks and watched the eclectic crowd of revellers pass by), our nights were mostly spent hanging with people at Long Island, and then retiring to the sala, which the girls had dubbed the Haram. A large wood deck on the beach, the Haram had been decorated with beds, cushions, lounge chairs, and lots of hanging lights that would sway in the breeze at night and, when combined with the seemingly endless supply of good tunes Desmond played, create a dreamlike atmosphere. By the end our nightly ritual was to go into town, get some Haagen Daaz, come back to the Haram, and stay up talking about philosophy, tomorrow's plans, or just how epic this play was.
The girls left for Bangkok after 6 days, and I stayed one more night. Desmond invited me to a party - a place he called 'the Bond House', as it was owned by one of the richest families in Thailand and had all sorts of buttons and gadgets. I of course accepted, and I went off with Desmond, his girlfriend Chim, his friend Shawn (who was in from England for a couple of months), and a few other Long Island guests who had passed the litmus test. The house was indeed incredible - a supermodern home on a cliff overlooking a huge bay, with the best part being a beautiful pool with one edge on the cliff, another edge having a fake boulder where you could have a waterfall at the touch of a button. The house belonged to El, a Thai women in her mid-30s who helped her father run the most upscale department store in Bangkok (called the Emporium). Her South African boyfriend, Brad, cooked up a feast of lamb, steak, salad, potatoes and custard pie for dessert - it was not Thai, but the best meal I had on the island. As the free bar flowed, I mingled with the other guests and began to realize this was a somewhat elite crowd - most people there owned a resort or hotel or were tied up in the Bangkok fashion scene in some way. As I made the rounds, the power of my trip began to show itself again - the stories of what I have done, where I will go and why I am doing it never fail to interest all types of people. Travelling is in everyone's blood - I'm not sure if there is a soul out there who doesn't seceretly have some fantasy place that they've always wanted to go to. Of course, I was hanging with a jet set-type crowd, and they had plenty of advice for other places to add to the list, and as we talked I took a particulary liking to Banu, who was there with his wife for the weekend from Bangkok, where he owned a clothing company called Greyhound. After telling me the hip places to go in his town, we settled into a nice long philosophy discussion which ended in Banu telling me I should become Buddhist monk. Maybe next year.
At around 2 the drugs started flowing, and the rich and famous of Thailand started grinding their teeth and getting a little out of control. Brad was the worst - he asked me why I hadn't thanked him for the party, and I said I had thanked El (I didn't know he was her boyfriend), to which he said 'Everyone's always thanking her - what about me!' (Desmond later told me his massive inferiority complex in regards to his girlfriend gets particularly bad after midnight). At 3 we piled into cars and went to a rave called Ritual at Rocky Bay, a beach just north of Chaweng. I enjoyed the experience - about 1000 people, evenly split between locals and tourists, shaking their booties and having a grand old time. I didn't really like the music (mostly trance - ugh), so I spent the time on a hilltop perch watching the scene or chatting with the little party crew we had brought from the house. At one point, El turned to me and said in slurred speech 'You know, you lucky - most tourists don't party with us' and I replied 'Yes, but I am not most tourists'. Everyone had a laugh, and I think I pulled off cultivating 'cool guest' status. Booyah!
We left the rave at sunrise, and after saying thanks and goodbye to Desmond and his crew I slept a few hours, woke up and started writing this. As I said - I am pleasantly exhausted, and although I don't really want to go I think it is time. KL awaits, and Malaysia has long fascinated me with it's progressive, multicultural society. I will be back in Thailand in a couple of weeks, and my room at Long Island has already been booked. But, there will be more adventures between now and then, so stay tuned...