Originally, I had planned on spending my 33rd birthday in some a metropolitan city. Singapore was my first choice, but I would have settled for Hong Kong, Hanoi, Vientienne, or Kuala Lumpur, all of which are a short flight away. And since we had a three day weekend on my birthday, they all would have been feasible. I hit several snags though by waiting until four days before I wanted to leave to book a ticket--flights were already full, not enough time to get a visa, that sort of thing. (One day I will learn not to procrastinate.)
So, I ended up going back to Koh Chang. You've heard about this place before. It's where I took Revonna when she was here in May. Where I got my first tattoo. Where the bungalows were so-very-ocean-front that the bottom step of our bungalow washed away in the night. Flights were cheap and the flight short and, most importantly, there were seats available, so we booked it. Sunny came with me and Daylin had a sitter for the weekend so we it was girls only.
Due to the late hour when we finally arrived on the island, I was getting somewhat crankus. The aircon wasn't working on the plane (no, it wasn't One Two Go). And to make matters worse, I had to climb up and over onto the dock from the ferry. For those who know, I don't do most upward manouevers very well. This particular endeavor involved climbing up off the boat (no steps), tottering on the boat's edge, and climbing up onto the dock over an expanse of dark water. From the dock to the land there was also a rickety wooden foot bridge that looked none too sturdy. I was feeling somewhat...ungainly.
We made it to White Sands Beach without any unfortunate toppling episodes. The bungalow where we stayed last time was full but Sunny was warmly greeted by the Thai proprietress with a loud hello and a big hug. She asked where Daylin was and offered to let us stay with her in her room. I think she was serious but we decided not to impose and she took us next door to Independent Bo bungalows. We had actually tried to check in to this place last time because it looked like a place with a lot of character. However, last time they wouldn't rent us a room. My guess was we were denied because we had a kid with us. My guess was confirmed shortly after check in. Let's just say the clock always reads 4:20 at Independent Bungalows.
A bit about the rooms at the Independent...the room cost was about $14 a night. Toilet paper was cost extra and towels could be rented. There was not a working window in our room and the toilet was deplorable. There was no sink in the room or bathroom. The toilet was one of those flush-with-a-bucket jobbies and it was positioned in the smaller end of the small trapezoidal "bathroom." If I was to sit on the toilet, my knees nearly hit the wall in front of me. And the shower. Over here most bungalows and guest houses don't have an enclosed shower. It's a shower head on the wall so everything in the room gets wet when you shower. I don't mind that so much but the problem with this bathroom was that the shower head was on the wall adjacent to the toilet. So if I was to take a shower in there, I would be wedged between the toilet and an unbearably rudimentary structure that posed as a wall. This was definitely the Hilton.
I think all of this squalor was even more apparent to me because I had been anticipating a weekend in sparkling clean Singapore, dining out at French restaurants and spending hours shopping in beautiful stores. But no, I ended up in a hovel on an island with a bunch of potheads because I procrastinate.
I'm usaually pretty flexible but for whatever reason I was in a mood. Thank god I eventually got over myself and had a great weekend. After a night's rest I felt better. In the morning, Sunny was up early and off to breakfast before I was out of the room. I went down to the front desk with my pack packed and had planned to go to breakfast as well then to find another room somewhere, but it appeared that I was marooned. The tide was very high, waist deep at the bottom of the stairs. (I learned later that there was another way out but I was ignorant of it at the time). I sat down for a while thinking the tide must go out sometime. The owner's wife, Fiona (from Scotland, 52), noticed my pack and said she was sorry to see me go so soon. I told her as nicely as I could that the room was not quite what I needed and she said they did have nicer rooms but they are up high. At this point, I didn't care. I just wanted a room where I could take a shower and brush my teeth away from the toilet. Fiona showed me the other room.
We meandered up and around the complex of bungalows which are more or less wooded huts with corrugated tin roofs. As you walked along, the steps would change directions, switch backing through the bungalows; they also were a composite of many different materials. At times, the steps were just crafted into the rocks of the seaside bluff. Other places, the steps were made of cement poured down the hillside with little footholds molded into it. Or it was painted wooden planks. There were branches and wooden poles along the way to grab onto if you took a mis-step. Nothing was even or straight, and everything was painted in primary colors of yellow, green, red, blue which felt very Seuss-like.
The new room was infinitely better. It had adequate bathing room in the shower, sea view windows, and a porch with a hammock. I was much happier. Then the weekend really began. I was working on a project so I went down to one of the tables in the common area and spread out my work. It was a second floor, open air room with the aquamarine sea glittering below. I sat there for most of the day and did some paper crafts. People would come and sit, mainly beautiful European boys on month long holidays. Eye candy. One from France, a couple from Germany, and an exquisite blond Danish fellow who must not have packed any shirts because I didn't see him in one all weekend. They chatted around me, their accents intoxicating. I was happy.
In the evening Sunny and I went out for a seafood dinner on the beach. Rock lobster, huge shrimp, corn on the cob, baked potato. Yummy. There were fire shows (Stef--don't tell Lizam about this; after he gets his black belt and becomes a bowler, I could see him wanting to do fire shows). The next day was we lounged some more and since I was on Koh Chang and the tattoo artist was still there, I decided to get another tattoo. Actually, two more tattoos. Sunny got one, too. This took up a good part of our Sunday. Between my two tattoos, I took a nap on the beach. The one in May did not hurt as much as these did. Holy crap! I sobbed a bit on the second one. I am not going to tell you what they are of this time; you will have to wait until you see me in person to find out.
The weekend started off a bit rocky, but after I waded through that part, the rest was perfect. I had a funtabulous birthday weekend.
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