Entries from October 2005 ↓

I’m now an advanced open water diver. And I am very proud. But it was a struggle. Arrived in Phi Phi on a boat in a monsoon and caught up with Andy and Juliet from Leisure Divers (plug). Have been camping on their classroom floor on an idyllic beach in the middle of nowhere.

Day one out on the boat and within ten minutes I had my head over the side, feeding the fish. Whilst the others dived and saw leopard sharks, turtles, morays et al, I intermittently trod water and vomited. For eight hours.

Fast forward two days, feeling healthy enough to have done one dive the previous day. It is three o’clock in the morning. I have gone to bed early after enjoying a Penang curry from Jasmin restaurant and its charming owner, Grasshopper. Aforementioned curry is now halfway up my gullet, all over the bathroom and me, and the chillies seem to have become lodged in my nasal cavities and sinuses. Repeat for 12 hours until both stomach and bowel are grape-sized and empty.

At this stage there is nothing I would not have sold to be at home, sat up in my own bed with clean cotton sheets and a bottle of Sprite. Mrs K would be rubbing my feverish back with a damp towel, stroking my forehead and soothing me to fitful rest. Tomorrow we could wake up, have breakfast together and read the papers, watch Eastenders and while away a lazy Sunday evening in a favourite restaurant. Instead I am struggling to sit upright on an island with no telephone reception or working computers, crying with pain and self-pity and wishing the dive-centre customers to go home so I can lie on a straw mattress and be eaten by mosquitoes.

I’ve been away for a little over 40 days now. This was never meant as a spiritual journey, more an opportunity to get drunk and meet new people in hot places (sorry Mum!) But I’ve learnt a lot about myself. I’ve learnt that I am happiest in a country where sewage is whisked away from you before you can smell it. I’ve learnt that sunsets are often better on the TV, depending on the amount of insect life. I’ve learnt that I would like a reasonable-sized house, with a garden, a dog and a couple of kids kicking around. This house will have central heating and hot water, be warm in winter and cool in summer. Abroad is for holidays. Holidays tend to last no longer than a month. I want to be near my family.

Tomorrow I will go to Phuket, check into a hotel with air-conditioning, cable TV and a bath, and eat burgers and chips until sated. Then I might drink a beer on my own and drift off to sleep with the temperature set as cold as possible and the blankets pulled right up to my ears.

Jamie has arrived and I am glad. Without him I wouldn’t be able to enjoy five o’clock wake up calls to pay taxi drivers or share rooms or look for keys. He has sensible footwear. He preys on pairs of girls, tricking them into believing we’re two single lads, until he can lure both of them into a threesome and leave me to my beer, feeling used. He is the reason we are perpetually leaving “the day after tomorrow”. He is good to have around.

I’m now a scuba diver. I found Nemo. I loved it. I wish I’d started ten years ago.

Tomorrow (or maybe the day after) we are leaving the east coast and heading to Krabi and Phi Phi. The gurning morons have started to arrive in anticipation of tomorrow’s full moon party in Ko Phangan, fire-jugglers, shape-throwers and pikeys. We have decided we want to be as geographically detached as possible. The monsoons have started now and am praying that the worst will hold off until we’ve finished our six-hour ferry jaunt to the mainland. When the weather’s pants in the Gulf, it’s divine in the Andaman Sea.

I should be able to conjure up a good Andaman pun, but curry sits heavily on my stomach and thinking is slow. Some more photos will come soon when back on reliable internet connections.

God Bless you all. Over.

PS Keelie is keeping a much more informative and entertaining blog about her trip through Africa here

No updates in a while as I’ve been doing bugger all on the beach. Have gone from creme to cafe creme to creme brule in just a matter of days. (Thai keyboards don’t have French characters - ทฟะไ รทิพสำ ฟะ นะนท นด.)

Slow night boat was six hours in a tin sauna, mattresses covering the floor and lying between four generations of fishermen. Never have I been more sympathetic to the refugee cause. Arrived in Koh Tao at 05.00. Never seen more dogs in one place at one time. I took a sunrise stroll along the beach, crystalline with dried sweat and no sleep, only to look like the Pied Piper of fucking Thailand with fifty mongrels snapping at my heels.

But the next day, Koh Tao is gorgeous. Its name means Turtle Island, either for the rock formations or the marine life. Forty dive schools leave the beaches empty during the day for me, a bowl of noodle soup and the occasional army of red ants. Found a bar where you order a beer for 50 cents and drink it horizontally on beanbags looking up at the stars. It would never work in Brussels.

The Spanner arrives on Tuesday morning. I told him to meet me at my hotel. He told me I was a “rancid Gaye” and I should meet him at the pier to help him with his bags. I said yes, but anticipate a propensity for sleeping late.

I haven’t been bitten, mugged or injured. I haven’t been arrested, deported or kidnapped. I haven’t been duped, drugged or scammed and I am already twenty-two days into my adventure. My new camera has exploded, however, so there’ll be no more pictures for a while. Follow up to follow.