Koh Tao

December 18, 2015

So the second leg of our island segment brings us closer to our illusive (and perhaps misguided?) search for paradise. Perenially covered in a heady brew of suffocating humidity, sunscreen, insect repellent and reeking body odour, I don't think any of us have changed our outfits for days. I for one have resorted to wearing no underwear, and mosquito bites hardly bother me anymore.

After the relative disappointment of Ko Samui, our patience was rewarded with the smallest island of the three major ones that lie off the east coast of Thailand. Ko Tao, or Turtle Island, has delivered on being a magnificent haven that has allowed us to rehabilitate and rejuvenate our bodies and our perceptions. "Chill" is probably the adjective to which I can attribute it. It is considerably less developed than Samui, to the point that its main street is only wide enough for three to walk abreast; in fact, the roads are few to begin with, and are all very rudimentary if not nonexistent. We got around the island only through pickup trucks, which are the taxis of the island. It's somehow their job to climb up and down mountains on one way roads laid haphazardly over inclines, and it's sort of like being on a roller coaster ride surrounded by greenery all around and magnificent views of the sea. If you're lucky you can spot cows casually jumping over stone fences and joining the disorder of utes, bikes and pedestrians on the road.

Ko Tao from the ferry in

Mikey enjoying the hammocks found everywhere on the island (and in our hostel too!) Pooh bear is on the perv

It's predominantly an island known for its snorkelling and diving, and others in pursuit of natural highs. Our hostel itself is unlike any we've ever stayed in, and is really just a collection of bungalows raised half a metre off the ground with palm leaves for roofs. My bungalow is only around 3 x 3 metres, with a fan and a patchy mosquito net, but it's home. The toilets are even more basic, to the point that there are no flush handles. You just have to flush down the products of your crippling diarrhoea with buckets of water, and at one point you just have to stand back, look at the opacity of the brown water, and tell yourself: "That'll do, mate."

But no complaints. Late nights, terrific live music wafts through from the reggae bar across the road, and the main street is just a short walk away. We have a habit now of claiming a restaurant as "ours" at each of our destinations, and Ko Tao's lucky winner was a skinny old man who'd owned his place overlooking the main beach for thirty years. He would often joke around with us while his wife cooked our meals, and even though we never spoke the same language, towards the end he would give us preferential treatment. We were able to make out though that he was renovating his little shack next year to keep up with his trendier neighbours, and it would be a concrete thing with loud music playing in order to attract the crowds. Of course I think it's a shame, but at the same time I keep reminding myself that I'm in Koh Tao at the right place, and at the right time in history. Any earlier and there'd be nothing to do here and no infrastructure to get to places; any later and it will just be another holiday destination on the tour company's itinerary.

We've been partying too in small clubs, with Swedes, Canadians and English folk. Most of the time, it culminates in us jumping into pools towards night's end, but things took a different turn when Jakob slipped while climbing a diving platform, and fell straight onto his shoulder on the concrete. This, along with his bowel movements, rendered him indisposed for our last day on the island, but I am happy to report that he is doing much better, and his body is ready for more witless antics to come.

Met this pooch called Banana at Sai Nuan Beach
During the day, we've mostly been setting our towels by secluded beaches and taking dips in the viridescent water. There were some like Shark Bay which resorts had already exploited, but almost deserted ones too like Aow Leuk Bay and Ao Tanot, which epitomised calm and relaxation. We couldn't do Ko Tao without buying some el cheapo snorkels taking excursions beyond the shoreline. On one day, the water was heaving around something tumultuous, in an attempt to reflect our digestive movements, yet we still ducked under large swells and turbid currents to check out what the island had hidden beyond its banks.

My favourite beach hands down would have to be Sai Nuan. It is hardly a beach, with a shoreline only five metres or so long. But the snorkelling was breathtaking (intended), and it was another one of those transformative experiences to swim among the fish and the corals and uncover a whole different world beneath the surface. It seems that while a lot of the human activity brought on by tourism has a negative impact on the corals (in addition to general warming of the seas), a balance hangs on the trade-off of conserving the ecosystem as well as allowing more people to experience the same sense of awe you get from these natural treasures. It is hard though to think any thoughts but positive ones, and it seems to be the effect that being in Ko Tao gives you. My memory is forever etched with swinging on a hammock at the Banana Rock Bar overlooking the sea, my friends already asleep on other balconies, with the water gurgling contentedly beneath me and ocean air lulling me to sleep and serenity.







Michael in his natural state


Learning to make street pancakes


Yo MTV, welcome to my crib


The main street



Lunching at our shack




Not a pic for the girlfriends



Riding the back of the ute/taxi




The view from Banana Rock Bar