As the glass doors before the international arrivals waiting area flew open we paused & held onto the last moment of our adventure, flinching hard at the reality of returning. 6 movies were watched back to back as we traveled home in a reverse swoop across the Pacific Ocean & the entire width of North America. For a mere 30+ hours we drifted through time zones without shutting an eye, hiding our dismal anticipation within our tireless involvement in plot after plot.
Surviving the initial celebration of our arrival, we stood side by side staring at the revolving luggage while our parents happily & cruelly shared in each others joy behind us. The treasured backpacks that hadn't left our sight in months had apparently been audacious enough to stay in Thailand. So we got into our respective cars, with our respective immediate family members & drove home down that routine stretch of highway from Boston to Newport. I woke up the next morning (that should be night) alone in my bedroom, surrounded by things I'd forgotten were significant to me. The only evidence of the past three months of my life was on this site & in the printed pages of my mother's following; as I still waited for my backpack filled with all I'd thought a person could possibly need to return to me. Landing in Thailand, the culture shock was expected to such an extent that the suspense was more potent than the impact upon arrival. Returning home, there is nothing quite so jolting & unnerving as feeling the familiar as foreign. Like getting through a hangover, we waited to readjust.
Very aware that our time was coming to an end, our last weeks in Railay were savored. I don't have a written word in my journal from those weeks, doubt I made it a full chapter through a book. We were in the home stretch & had officially stayed into Thailand's undeniably hot season where survival techniques like water breaks became priority out of necessity.
Arriving in Railay, we hopped off the longtail boats on the sunrise side of the isthmus & anxiously made our way along the sandy path, under the dreadlocked trees, & back into the little neighborhood of huts & waterside 'Shangri-la'. Things had changed in our absence & we reminisced about our friends that had moved on & the days when the now vanished coffee shop was the place to be. Slowly familiar characters awoke from their daytime slumber in unknown corners & climbed down from their limestone playground to greet us. We moved back into Rappala bungalows, this time coupling off into neighboring quarters, tossing our damp sarongs onto neighboring porch rails.
Immediately we resumed our roles as locals & all that entails on Railay. Every morning we trooped past the chickens on the path out of Rappala, bounced down the 58 steps, mutually greeted Thais leisurely putting their bars back in order, walked way down to the end of sunrise & by the gangs of monkies along the cave covered path, past the climbers clinging with powdery fingers to the cave walls & wobbling tight-ropers, past the phallic tourist-swarmed fertility shrine & the people floating under the canopied shelter of the cave's overhang, around the woman selling corn & her flock of friends offering up massages/mani/pedis, to our favorite spot of sand- 20 feet from both the longtail snack bars & an available patch of shade. Phranang is no doubt in my mind the most beautiful beach in the world. The fine sand shoreline stretches along sheer turquoise water from it's cave beginnings, bending around corners lined with longtail boats, past limestone stacks & shallow sand bars that lead out to them, until it hits a small patch of jungle leading to more complex caves at the far end. We spent our very last day soaking up as much of this slice of heaven as we could. We braved the hot sun all day long seeking relief lounging in shallow spots or floating around making random conversation with other floaters. A late afternoon downpour forced us to dodge into the far cave where we climbed through narrow twisted passages until we found ourselves looking out from a sheltered height over the stormy beach. It felt as if we owned part of this island just for appreciating it's every inch. Life in Railay was true bliss. Sunsets on the sunset beach watching the locals play, curried dinners with friends & their newly expat Swedish girlfriends, fireshows, Chang beers drank barefoot & indian-style by candlelight.. Jenga. We scoffed daily at the longtail drivers along the sunrise-side wall asking if we wanted a ride back to the mainland Krabi town. Why would anyone even humor leaving?
Reality, I guess.
We said our goodbyes & gathered at the travel agency booth to await our exit. As we sat reluctantly looking for our longtail to appear the sky opened up wide & rain came down torrentially. The tide was out so far that several longtails lay stranded leaning on the exposed rain splattered sand. We walked through the length of this surreal tropical shower a good mile out till we finally reached water. I don't really remember much from there. I think we likely got dropped to a truck that drove us to a bus that took us with however many transfers back to Bangkok City where we feverishly hunted for an elaborate variety of souvenirs until a cab took us to Chatree's so we could organize with the added baggage we'd stored there, shower, & get in one last cab to the airport. Maybe Chatree drove us to the airport, he was always more than willing to make our lives easier, which felt so luxurious amidst backpacking. With all the different forms of transportation we'd experienced, a car seemed so personal.
last minute consolidation
our transport list:
tuk-tuk (with bicycle & motorcycle)✓
songthaew (gated truck bed)✓
taxi✓
minibus✓
bus (including double deckers, dilapidated, & sleepers)✓
longtail boat✓
ferry✓
speedboat✓
slowboat✓
skylag✓
plane (assorted)✓
junkboat✓
moped
bicycle
ricksha (samlor)✓
We never got mopeds because of the horror stories (falls, accidents, tailpipe burns, & most worrisome: the frequent outrageous charges for damage already existent at the rental). We tried to stay at hostels that offered bicycles but were never lucky enough to end up with tires. Rickshas simply weren't big enough for three of us let alone the days when there were four & five or in Vietnam where passengers on samlors were carted solo like kings. We managed to check this last one off the list (technically) in the airport & were fully satisfied, as you can tell...
Subsequently our devious backpacks got dropped on our US doorsteps, we made our re-entry into Newport life, & smiled through the agony of endless ambiguous questions such as the "how was it?"s & the "you guys have fun?"s. Occasionally one of us would go off on an elaborate spiel or share some animated travel anecdote, but more often than not we all just said "oh yea, it was a blast." At first we often found ourselves retreated into the ladies room or huddled into a corner clinging together for support & sharing disgruntled memories of paradise. By May the three of us were living off Thames, reconciled with summer in Newport. We served food to thousands, double biked to the beach clutching pool floats, threw backyard cookouts, late night soirees, & celebrated everything from graduations to America's independence; breaking from real life here & there for a little wistful nostalgia...
Days turned into weeks into months & we all got accustomed to life revolving around whatever it is that life revolves around normally. By January we were all antsy to run away. The girls took off to Costa Rica where they've been playing beachside in Tamarindo since. March 24th I'll be joining them with Lonely Planet guides & Spanish companions to throw on our backpacks & uncover what Central America has to offer. Before we know it we'll be right back in the throes of reverse culture shock, coming to terms with routine & reality... only with even more adventures whispering in our minds.
Always do what you wish you could.
