Koh Libong

After a meager Christmas celebration in Bangkok, Sunny, Daylin, and I headed down south to a remote island in the Andaman Sea for the rest of our holiday. There are plenty of beaches in Thailand over-populated by foreigners on holiday—blonde, Swedish, twenty-somethings in bikinis, buff backpackers sleeping in hammocks—but we were looking for someplace a little more low key to bring in the New Year. Somewhere removed from the usual hullabaloo associated with the more touristy destinations.

And boy did we find it. Koh Libong is nestled amongst the other 98 islands in the Andaman Sea. The majority of the 2000 Thai citizens on the island are Muslim, evidenced by the thrice daily prayers that could be heard floating through the air from the nearby mosque as well as the women wrapped up in multi-colored head coverings. A very different feel from the largely Buddhist population here in Bangkok. There are two resorts on the island (and I use ‘resort’ loosely here) which did not have more than thirty guests at one time the whole nine days we were there. It took us sixteen hours on an overnight train, one hour in a mini bus, and forty five minutes in a boat to arrive to our destination.

Most of the island consists of untouched jungle. Our resort was located next to a small Thai village but the bigger village was located on the other side of the island, accessible by fifteen minutes on a motorbike or by boat. There were no ATM’s on the island, no 7-11’s, no Western Unions. In the village, there were little stores at the front end of people’s homes where you could get the basic necessities; of which I was surprised to see body-shaper underwear. I found this sadly funny. That even far far away from modern civilization, women still feel the need to suck in their tummies and minimize their rear end jiggle. Strange. There were also some large, flat screened televisions in some of the cement block homes; I imagine they caused quite a stir upon their arrival, comparable almost to the opening of Ame’s in West Point circa 1988.

The electricity for the bungalows was run on generator power which only came on at night. We ate at the same restaurant for the whole time we were there; fortunately, the place served up some tasty Thai food. The cheeseburger was another story though, especially since there was no beef on the island due to religious restrictions. It was an egg battered chicken sandwich. How do you get hamburger out of that? One day, I walked down to the other ‘resort’ and was greeted by a fairly large snake which scared the begeebies out of me. I guess with a tropical island, you get tropical wildlife as well.

The few tourists that were on Koh Libong were of a different breed than I am used to meeting in Thailand. More families and career oriented people, less kids on holiday with their parent’s credit card. General practitioners, dentists, psychologists, NGO’s and engineers traveling with their spouses and children. It made for a totally different atmosphere. Very mellow. Quiet. Perhaps a little too quite at times. And since there was nowhere to go, the daily routine settled into wake up, breakfast, read, nap, lunch, lounge on the beach, read, dinner, night cap and then bed. A real vacation.

Finding Nemo

I don’t want to give you the impression that life on a tropical island is boring. I definitely wasn’t wishing to be anyplace else. And there was one opportunity for adventure and that was to hire a boat and go snorkeling. I had never been snorkeling before this trip so I was pretty excited. On New Year’s Eve we hired a long tail boat with what looked like a lawn mower engine rigged up on the back of it that took us out and about in the sea. A British family went with us, two doctors and their seven and twelve year old daughters. First we went to the Emerald Cave. Holding on to each other’s life jackets, we swam through a pitch dark cave (quite scary actually) that led to an enchanted cove. Once upon a time, the cove was used by pirates to stash their illicit booty. It was truly a magically beautiful place. Removed from everything. An enclosed room that opened up to the sky.

After that, our captain (who would kill the engine to take a call on his mobile phone at the drop of a hat) motored us over to a fabulous spot for snorkeling. I was the next to last one to exit the boat, left alone only with the male Dr. Mackenzie. The others had disembarked using the ladder but I didn’t want to take that route. I just didn’t feel comfortable climbing down a small ladder that Barbie would have used to climb off of Ken’s yacht. So, after consulting with the doctor on the depth of the water (sure it’s deep enough), I jumped right in with my mask on. Once submerged, I took in the green blue wonder of the silent ocean as it passed by with an almost dream-like quality. The little fishees swimming about, the coral flowering everywhere. I kept sinking slowly until CRASH, my left knee slammed into the coral. The coral, which looks like it is leafy and soft, almost as if it would flutter with the water’s current, is actually rock hard and alive with poison. Its surface is jagged and sharp, allowing it to rip into the skin with knife like precision. Good thing I didn’t dive in head first, huh?

I floated back up to the surface and tried to act like nothing happened. I don’t think I did a very good job at that. The doctor asked if I was okay, my pain manifesting itself in a grimace on my face. I didn’t want to cry. Thai people don’t often show their emotions and I didn’t want to be the blubbering idiot of a foreigner and I surely didn’t want to ruin the outing for the others in the snorkeling clan. So I clung to the ladder and just bobbed about for a bit while my knee bled into the water. Salt water might be good for an open wound but let me tell you, it stung like hell. I stayed in the sea for as long as I could take the stinging before attempting the blasted latter. If it was just a smaller version of a ladder that would be one thing, but I don’t think there were enough steps on this ladder. Step implies that you just step and then go up; instead for this ladder I had to pull my knees up to my chest to reach the bottom rung, grab on to the top of the ladder and then pull the rest of my bodyweight up using my arms. That would assume that the user had some upper body strength. And as Coach Schaffer (nightmare gym coach from seventh grade) could tell you, upper body strength is not my strong suit—I held the record for zero seconds on the bar hang; go me.

After a humiliatingly heave of my corpulence over the side of the boat, I continued to bleed profusely into the boat. I was particularly aware of my bloody leg because we were out with two doctors and their small children. I’ve had enough OSHA training to know about blood borne diseases, and I figured this might be going through their minds as well. I should mention that this was not the kind of boat that kept rubber gloves handy. Nor was there a first aid kit for that matter. The captain and his mate gave me concerned looks to which I just smiled, nodded my head. Ignoring my half hearted attempts to affirm my well-being, they flagged down another boat and borrowed a first aid kid, broke out the gauze and iodine solution, began pouring and dabbing away. More stinging.

Nearly two weeks later, my knee is still giving me trouble. Angry red, scar-like tissue that itches constantly covers my knee now. It feels like it has been badly bruised but there isn’t discoloration like a bruise. When I bend my knee, it hurts. Bad. Some scabbing that isn’t healing too well is also evident. So, I don’t think I will go snorkeling again anytime soon. I did get back in the water later in the day, trying to salvage the trip a bit, and I did see some beautiful fish (like the ones in the pictures). But I stayed far away from the malicious coral.