Getting to Koh Kood

In order to travel to Koh Kood from Bangkok, I had to get up around 4 in the morning. I could have chartered a private car to take me where I was going, but it was going to cost a-plenty. I decided to take the bus. A taxi dropped me off at the Ekamai bus station, the departure location for all points east of Bangkok. The lady at the window said I was to travel in the bus in Space 17. Arriving at Space 17, I saw a huge luxurious bus, air-conned and very tall so that travelers would have a good view. Cool! And I sat down to wait.

Next to me were a couple of Thai guys. One of them was to travel in my same vehicle to Trat town, which I understood to be the departure place for boats to Koh Kood ("koh" means "island" in Thai). They both spoke English. That made me feel better. In the wee hours of the morning, when you don't know what you're doing and the night is still black upon the city, you can use any courage that comes your way.

A few minutes before it was time to leave, I prepared to board the bus. Then one of the guys on my bench said no, I was to go in the minivan, not the big bus. But the minivan wasn't parked in Space 17! Nevertheless, the guy going to Trat on my bus boarded the minivan, and so did I. Off we went, on the dot of 6:00 as scheduled.

As we sped east on the tollway, the sun was rising in an orange-grey sky, the same color I remember from my teenage days of living in southeast Asia. It was a sweet balm, watching the sun rise from the van, which was surprisingly quiet considering there were eight or ten of us in traveling together. I watched the sky and prayed.

The van stopped a couple of times for gas and potty breaks. It really was a comfortable way to travel, and I was happy to be in the front seat, where I got a good view of rice paddies, factory areas, busy little towns, and distant mountains.

We made one other stop, for a fifteen-minute breakfast. I decided to go for the Thai breakfast: white rice, glass noodles with a few veggies, and a soy-sauce-soaked hardboiled egg. It was delicious!

I'd been told by the folk from the resort that there would be transportation waiting for me at Space 25 at the Trat bus station. Having gotten in early, I sat there for an hour or so, and no one pulled in to Space 25. But eventually a woman pulled her pickup into a nearby space, and my name was on her list. She loaded up a bunch of us "farangs" (foreigners) in the back for a trip to the pier.

There were six of us to begin with, and we was a motley crew of young adults plus me. I felt old. Across from me was a Singaporean girl, and her German traveling partner sitting next to me. He explained they were law school classmates at Columbia University in New York, now on semester break. Then there was the Chilean-French guy in the blue "Creamfields Andalucia 05" t-shirt. He was a total sanguine, a rather gorgeous chap with a ready sense of adventure and easy laugh. He has been working in Bangkok and was headed out to the island to meet his girlfriend for some vacation before they return to France. Past him was an American couple wearing wedding rings. She had red hair and a rather sour look on her face, and he didn't hesitate to throw bad language in his conversation. It only takes one F-word to make me turn away and tune out; which reminds me: I need to get more tolerant and compassionate.

We pulled in at a guesthouse, and a British couple joined us. And here we already thought it was a tight fit with six of us big people in the back! Mister Britain was sporting tattoos and wearing skull jewelry. Ms. Britain had a sweet, gentle look to her and looked more like sunshine than "biker girl." After driving us around town a bit more, the driver brought us back to a previous stop and picked up three other women and their luggage. Three!!! They squeezed into the cab. And off we went to the pier.

We thought the pier would be close; no one had mentioned to any of us that it was a 25-kilometer drive past rubber plantations and little villages. But the conversation was fun, aided by the friendliness of the French and German chaps.

Arriving at the Leam Sok pier ("leam"means "cape" in Thai), this was my first view of the South China sea with the mountains of Cambodia in the distance.

Walking out on the pier to the speedboat, I passed some mangroves. I don't think I've seen these since I was about sixteen and we joined our Maryland relatives in a boat tour of pretty islands on the east side of Thailand.

The pier was gorgeous, stretching out toward the massive thunderheads gathering in the afternoon heat over the Cambodian coast.  The speedboat, which could hold about 30 passengers, was moored just past the hut where you could wait out of the sun.

We hopped in the boat, and off we went.  I remembered that the back of the boat is less likely to be a place where you'll get seasick, and it was a handy tip. It was a calm and gorgeous ride for an hour-plus-some to the island of Koh Kood.

Speeding across the ocean, I couldn't take my eyes off the clouds. They just towered up for thousands and thousands of feet over the blue, blue water, so pretty with the light and shadow playing on them.  My photos don't even begin to show how gorgeous they were.

At the same time, I experienced a lot of sadness crossing the sea to the island. This is the same water that refugees crossed when I was a teenager, trying to get out of communist-controlled Vietnam and Cambodia. Many of them suffered on this sea, be it from their slow, leaky fishing boats capsizing, robbery and rape by pirates, or blazing heat from the sun. I thought of The Blooming of the Flame Tree, the children's lit book I read vividly describing the experience of the refugees. I had visited the refugee camps in Singapore with my fellow schoolmates, and never knew what terrors those people had survived. I couldn't stop thinking about it, crossing the water now with our powerful 3 outboard motors roaring away and the wake trailing out behind us as we zipped along.

And so I was in a prayerful mode again. My heart was attuned and listening. Above is the picture of the cloud that was in my sights when I felt I heard some distinct direction given to me. But I will keep that private for now. Time will tell if it was the voice of God, or simply my own heart speaking.

Coming to Koh Kood, the boat began making stops at various piers to let people off. The beaches looked so inviting and idyllic; I was excited to get to my destination.

These rocks along the headlands looked like volcanic rock, but I'm not aware of any volcanoes around here. Maybe there are, but the nearest ones I'm aware of are in the Philippine islands, which are many, many miles away. As a child I used to have tough enough calluses on my feet that I would clamber over these rocks happily, barefoot. Now no more!

Just around this rocky point we came into the bay where I'm staying.  And oh, it was beautiful!  I was so busy picking up my stuff as we approached the pier, I didn't take a picture of it or the chap waiting to greet me. So you'll just have to imagine us pulling into a little inlet and me getting off at the pier where a little car awaited to take me up the hill to the resort. Not quite Fantasy Island, but close!

I debarked at a little "reception hut" where Fon, the "Communicator," as she introduced herself, met me to get me registered. Here on a coffee table made from the slab of a big tree was a tray with a cold aromatic washcloth, and some cold lemongrass tea.  Aaaah!

Stay tuned for more.