totallygone

travel, at a tangent


Island Life

No, I'm not gone - well, not totally. But I'm tempted! After weeks of battling with dodgy computers that've ruined my attempts to post, I've finally reached the peak of technological prowess - satellite internet! My new home-from-home, the tropical island paradise of Koh Chang, lacks terrestrial access to the mainland, so I've resorted to the fast but expensive solution of writing to you via outer space. Is it good for you too? I've been here for about a week, and have managed to drag myself away from the beaches (think Bounty ads without the fat content). I've found a bungalow near the beach - A-frame on the outside, Green Gables on the inside. It's expensive - nearly a tenner a night, but well worth it. A wonderful place for a honeymoon - if there's anyone out there that fancies one, I'm STILL single. I travelled here with three English girls - friends I made at the Atlanta Hotel in Bangkok - a fellow Indiaphile called Jo, and Alex & Janice - a truly wonderful couple who've been keeping me entertained while we've been waiting for the sun to appear. Their gaydar was alerted by my recent and most favourite purchase - a pair of blue swimming-trunks with a rather fetching white stripe around the waistband. The "Hom" logo is there for those who are too dumb to guess. It's all a bit hetero in these parts, but there are lesbians a-plenty. And I'm in the midst of them! I'm waiting for my friend Zoe, whom I met at Kopan, to arrive from Delhi, and we'll have our own gay cabal. I'll be here for a few more days before heading to Chiang Mai to study Thai Massage. Then I'll slowly make my way homewards via mainland Europe. SARS is remarkably absent in these parts, but I'm in danger of becoming waterlogged - the rainy season is just beginning and torrential rain has been soaking the island (and me) for the past couple of days. The storms are amazing, the crash-and-bang of the thunder drowning out, momentarily, the extraordinary noises that pervade the wet air - the maddening trill of crickets, dry croaking of a billion tiny toads, and the truly bizarre groaning of great frogs in the rivers behind our resort. Starting off with a lower-gut growl, the croak rises a few notes both in tone and volume, resulting in a sound not dissimilar to the doppler drone of Formula One racing cars. So getting to sleep is a bit of a challenge, but it's a welcome change from Bangkok, where silence is perhaps the most expensive commodity in town.

Faking It in BangkokThe term "ontological insecurity," used by philosophers and psychologists to describe the eerie sensation that one's surroundings are somewhat (or completely) unreal, is possibly the most accurate way of describing life in Bangkok. Returning here from India was an entirely different experience than my last arrival here six months ago. Being used to seeing local people wearing local clothing, for example, it was odd to see everyone here wearing European and American-style clothes, makeup etc. Not only that; Bangkok is choc-full of westerners. Not classy ones. It seems that at some point a whole section of humanity discovered that swathes of the Costa del Sol were really naff, and they could come here and shag gorgeous girls, boys, or something between the two, buy knock-off CDS/DVDs, designer gear etc, all for the price of a couple of weeks in Torremolinos. And here they are. I'd had the time of my life in India, and left on a real high - the SARS scare meant that my night-flight from Delhi to BKK was so empty that I had a window seat and two empty seats next to me - as did most of the other passengers. A few (American) flyers at Delhi were wearing masks, but most of didn't bother. The real risk was from the airline food; generic curry accompanied by the most disgusting sandwich I've ever suffered - a square of soft, slippery and bright orange Kraft cheese cushioned between two slices of moist, white, warm Nimble (believe it, it's true. They're still knocking that stuff out? Why? Who, other than the toothless, would buy it?). If you've not hurled already, there's something wrong with your gag reflex. That, or you're a gay man.


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