An American in Asia: His Quest for Cosmic Truth (or at least a Decent Espresso)

 

The Island Life

Kata Beach, formerly known as one of the island's havens of tranquility, now festering with beach chairs jet-skis and vendors

After spending the first three months of my new existence in Phuket on a hillside in Kata beach, it was time to find a more peaceful area to live. While Kata once had a reputation as one of the island's more quiet alternatives, the place I was living was every bit as noisy as downtown Bangkok. Once the high season hit, the beach itself quickly filled up with umbrellas and beach chairs populated by rotund European men in tiny thong swim wear and women wearing little more, bearing their deep-tanned breasts to the conservative Buddhist and Muslim locals. The soundtrack for a walk down the street would be the calls of, "Taxi!", "You buy suit!" and even siren cries from roadside bars of, "Hello handsome man!" It was time to move.

My house in Nai Harn

A thorough search of Phuket turned up a house in a residential area near Nai Harn Beach on the southern tip of the island. It's a clean, cute two-bedroom place with white concrete walls and deep blue floor tiles, located at the head of a large field with a view of palm-covered hills. Rent of US$300 per month includes a high-speed internet line and a reasonable selection of cable TV channels. Water comes from a well, so it's free, though I'm not sure I want to drink it.

Down a short gravel drive to the main road is a nice selection of inexpensive restaurants including an Italian pizza and pasta place, a Canadian sandwich shop, a stylish cafe and a good Thai restaurant.

If I hop on my bike I can be at Nai Harn Beach in five minutes. A Buddhist temple occupies most of the land behind the beach, which prevents overdevelopment. It ought to prevent excessive nudity, but it doesn't. Some people don't care much about local sensitivities. I wonder how the Europeans would feel if tourists walked around topless in front of the Sistine Chapel. I try to direct my gaze towards the ocean. The view is unobstructed by beach chairs, which are kept well back from the waves and there is plenty of room for me to choose a space for my little beach blanket.

Today I pedaled over some hills a bit further down the cape to a little hidden cove. I took along a snorkel, mask and fins and spent a good part of my afternoon swimming loops around coral heads eight or ten metres below the surface. It was a heck of a lot of fun.

As I waded along the water's edge, scoping out the offshore rocks with my blue fins in my hand and a mask on my head, a little boy peeked his head over the top of a large boulder. "Are you going snorkeling?" he asked.

I told him I was. He said, "Do you know what a banded sea snake is?" I told him I did. It's supposed to pack the deadliest venom of any snake in the world. "My dad just came out of the water and he said he saw one down there."

"Great, thanks. I'll be careful," I told him. I happened to know those snakes are also very shy so it only 30% creeped me out. I put it out of my mind and I never ran across the snake, though there was a nice school of young barracuda scissoring around in the shallows.

There was only one other snorkeller sharing the small bay and we kind of joined up in our exploration of the reef. It's somehow more fun to see all the amazing and colourful sea creatures when there is another human in view. It gives a sense of perspective to the alien world.

My impromptu diving buddy was French, so I pretended I was exploring with a young Jacques Cousteau. He had a great swimming style and I picked up a few moves. If you swim like a dolphin, kicking your feet together and holding your hands down at your sides, it takes less energy, you use less oxygen and can do more stuff during each dive. You probably look more appetizing for the local shark population too.

By the end of the afternoon I had developed a rhythm, floating on the surface and slowing down my heart rate with long, deep breaths, then diving under for a minute or so. I concentrated my thoughts on keeping relaxed and used as little energy as I could to propel myself around the reef. When my muscles started to feel drained of oxygen, I'd spin around to check the surface for obstructions like other divers or boats, then I'd let myself drift up to the top. There shouldn't have been boats to worry about, since I was swimming near a group of divers who had a warning flag up, but I've learned not to trust Thais to obey any kind of rule, even one for their own safety. At one point I heard a boat pass and I lingered near a coral head until the sound faded. When I surfaced I saw that it was actually quite far off. Sound travels fast and far underwater.

The view from my house.

Now I'm back home, relaxing on the back porch and enjoying the view while the laundry goes for a spin. Dinnertime is coming up soon, so I'll probably make myself civilised and head into town for a treat at the best Japanese restaurant on the island, a place in an upscale mall at Phuket's main crossroads. It's a simple pleasure, but life seems to be getting simpler all the time.