There have certainly been some adventures along the way. Reaching back to January, I would recommend Thailand to anyone, any age range. Without question, hesitation, or reservation. The Land of the Thais is a place of preternatural beauty, scooped up in heaping helpings and served on the cheap. The food is incredibly delicious, the oceans azure blue, the people bronzed, beautiful, and free. To any of my older relatives: if you haven't put Thailand on your bucket list, do so now. You may find yourself enjoying an extended stay.
I know I certainly did. I intended to spend just over a week in Thailand, and ended up canceling two flights and staying for a month. The country grabs you. Thailand was fated by geography to become a vacationer's paradise, especially during the temperate winter months of 'high season' - stretching from December through early March. The entire nation spans a narrow isthmus, with famous beaches girdling either side and islands dotting its peripherals. Thailand was colonized by England, and a large amount of British culture permeates. English was the lingua franca in the resort country I visited, and most educated locals spoke it fluently. I am lucky to have been conceived into the mother tongue, as it rendered navigation a breeze.
In lieu of an extended rundown of my events during my three weeks at The Sanctuary resort, I'll post a lurid rendition penned closer to my stay there. Thailand lends itself to prose-poetry, and while I trust the pictures to speak for themselves, a lurid landscape lends legitimacy to liberties with language.
How to do Thailand justice? Picture a land hand-crafted by the Maker for His Holy vacation. A portal into an alternate reality spangled with mangoes a-gogo and a hammock on every palm tree.
Blue seas frothing on white sand beaches stretch beneath the pink and orange of the morning sun. Then the island lazily shakes its perfect body off, swimming laps. Kickboxing. A yoga retreat or three. Thai massage - seven bucks an hour. And then in stumbles its bloodied, still drunken cousin from the Full Moon Party. The stars are still in their eyes - the party won’t be finished for at least another 48 hours. And why not? The yogis and the addicts, the tantrics and the tourists all have the same word on their lips: Ecstasy. This is Tahiland, and the islands are pulsing with joy.
My words don't tell the story well enough. Let me show you what greeted me, every morning.
Beautiful.
How else to describe Koh Phagnon? A shimmering atoll off the sandy spinnaker of the thai coast, Koh Phagnon and her elder sister, Koh Samui were made for vacations. They have no other purpose. Tourism is their life’s blood, the sand and the sea and the shining sun, their bread and toil. The food is magnificent. The people, entrancing.
Ashanti spirit healers and medicine men coupled with aurvedic shamans and tantric yogis. Spinal therapists mingled with art dealers, writers, composers. Bond traders shed their market floors for flip flops and ray bans as raves Omed into the distance from 6 in the evening past noon the following day before indefatigably shifting along the coast. The party did not end - it only changed its tune.
Sipping magic shakes on the beach with a Scotsman named Alister and seeing holographic visions tessellate the living stars. Waking on the beach, surrounded by friendly puppies who frantically pollinate you with their kisses before returning to their coconuts. Bamboo hut, and its preposterous pumpkin salad, and even more ludicrous oceanside view.
The magicans’ circle at the tea temple. The rollicking motorboat through choppy surf. The jungle. The days pass, effortlessly. It is a flower, budding and blossoming in one setting, a time lapsed bliss.
Took two tantra retreats and saw amazing things. A full kundalini awakening - My friend Kyle jerked up like an astral jesus after energetic exercizes with the magical Megan flamer. Kyle was flashing brighter than a neon christmas tree through the courses of his subtle electric, blinking, all the while stammering ‘its all real,’ and ‘i can see the lights!’ Oceanic bliss alighting the halls.
Tears, laughter, reconciliation. Contacts, crossings, cracking signals. Unclenching old fists. Realizing how much I love my father, how much he loves me. Pushing through the pain to get there. Stepping out on my own, yes, stepping out of my own shadow. You must see your shadow if you want to get out of its way. And of course, to leave the shadow, you must face the sun. There is so much more to tantra than the sex - it is a world entire. In two weeks, I got a year’s worth of focused growth.
In my more contemplative nights I stayed alone by the sands and surf, listening as the waves lapped endlessly upon the shore. I woke to these lovely creatures, gnawing at their coconuts amidst their morning nuzzle:
Now I know, if people weren't busy working in China, there would certainly be far less play on the Thai beaches. Passing from China to Thailand, I felt I had journeyed from purgatory to paradise - from grey to green, from dry to lush, from silent to vibrant, and cheery, and welcome. Yes, its easy to smile when you’re not working, and easier still when it’s for a month at a time. But the easiest smiles come in a place like Thailand - where nature is decked in her proudest raiment, where the surf squeals joy in chorus with monkeys and macaws, and the flowers outdo one another in their sexing allure.
That sums it up nicely - about as well as I could do myself. ;) If you get the chance, do yourself a favor and book an extended break in Southeast Asia. The reality of it trumps all the text I've chucked to date - it's beautiful beyond words.
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