Chai Ya

After a good night's sleep, despite the rock hard bed and the chorus of bull frogs outside of my window, both of which I'm learning to expect and enjoy, I headed downstairs to begin my day. Since the retreat doesn't start until Wednesday and I don't have to be at Wat Suan Mokkh for the official registration until Tuesday (I had already signed in on Sunday), I had the day to myself. I had originally thought I would make it over to Khao Sok National Park, but one of the men who lives at the hotel told me that it was about a three hour trip, and since Steven and I plan to go down there later anyway, I decided to explore the area and save my long bus rides for my days on the road.

I had seen on the map of the area that there was a beach nearby and thought I would make my way there. I asked at the hotel which way was the best way to the beach and was told that I could take a sangthew for 5 to 8 baht from the 7-11 up the street. I thanked them and headed off.

As I walked along the road, taking in the scenery, I made a note of all of the motorbikes parked along the curbs and it struck me that this would be the perfect area to rent a bike in and tool around without having to rely on public transportation. I walked up the the nearest store with a row of bikes out front and asked if I could rent a bike for the day "Yaak chao moto-sie" (moto-sie being the Thai word for motorcycle...). After a few confused looks, a long incomprehensible conversation between the woman I had asked and a nearby gentleman, I figured out that these bikes most likely belonged to people inside the shop and that while I couldn't rent them, they were offering to take me to the beach on one of their bikes. I begged off with lots of thank yous and headed down the road, only to be ripped from my thoughts by a loud "HEY YOU!" a few minutes later. It was the woman from in front of the shop, trying to get my attention. She beckoned me over and motioned to a police officer who she had apparently asked to help. Following yet another conversation in Thai between the woman, the policeman and the now gathering crowed, it was determined, again, that the woman could take me on the back of her bike. I tried to explain that I appreciated the offer, but didn't want a ride on a bike, I had wanted to rent a bike, but since none were available, I was going to opt for a santheaw ride, which I presumed to be much cheaper than an individual motor-taxi. What probably came out of my mouth was in Thai/English was "Thank you. No. No want taxi. Thank you. Want go santheaw. Thank you. Thank you." The policeman nodded, mounted his bike and patted the back for me to get on. Having no idea what was going on, but falling back on my new travel mantras of "patience, faith in strangers and optimism," (which will soon change to 'patience,' 'optimism' and 'caution and extreme care when dealing with strangers' as I move on from Thailand to other lands) I climbed aboard. After a short trip around the corner, I was deposited in the back of a santheaw heading to the beach.

The driver repeated my destination and said, "one person?" to which I nodded, followed by "seventy baht." So much for the 5 to 8 baht I had anticipated.

I sat for a minute as we waited for more passengers, thinking to myself, "No Thai would pay 70 baht for a ride to the beach 7 km away. This is Thailand. There has got to be some entrepreneurial sole willing to rent me their bike for the day... ." Deciding on this course of action, I got out of the truck, thanked the driver (but no thanks), and made my way back to the hotel, where I managed to get the mistress of the hotel to ask her brother if he would rent his motorbike for the day.

A few minutes later, clad in sunglasses and a sturdy helmet, with a map to the beach in my pocket, I was off.

Motorbikes in Thailand are not like your Average American motorcycle. There seem to be two distinct types, automatic and manual, automatic being those that you simply rest your feet on the plastic "floor" of the bike and manual necessitating the rider to shift up and down from first to fourth gear with a clutch near the pedal. I was hoping for an automatic, but had wanted to feel more secure on a manual and since there was very little traffic here, figured this would be the perfect placed to learn. My newly acquired red bike with matching helmet was a manual and soon I was driving and up shifting like a pro - just much, much slower. With my mother on one shoulder reminding me to pay attention to the road and telling me how dangerous and risky it is to ride a motorcycle in the first place and my father on the other, telling me that you can have an accident at any speed, but you will get a lot less hurt if you are going 15 miles an hour as opposed to 40, I managed to make my way to the beach in one piece.

The beach was a beach in that it had sand and water, but that was where the basic definitions of what would think when picturing a beach shifted drastically. Between the shore and the water was exposed land that I can only describe as 'muck;' black and sticky looking, and it didn't make for an attractive view. In the distance, the water was dotted with fishing shacks on stilts and the serenity of the area was broken by the occasional longtail fishing boat heading out to sea. The stretch of beach where I parked the bike was further crowded with tables and benches sheltered by a covering of dried palm fronds.

I had planned for a leisurely morning and had brought along my portable cd player and some pre-retreat reading on Buddhism and decided on the table the furthest from the beach, but before settling in, I wanted to explore a bit and headed around tip of the beach to the other side.

Coming around the bend, I surprised two fisherman unloading nets from their boats. I said hello and they nodded and went on with their work. As I got closer to them I noticed that there were 8 or 10 horseshoe crabs lying upside down on the beach around them. Wondering what type of meal you could possibly get from a horseshoe crab, I asked, "Gin, mai?" or (eat, no?). The man shook his head. Since they obviously weren't horseshoe crab fisherman, I walked up to the nearest crab struggling to right itself, bent to provide assistance, and looked questioningly at the man, saying "dai, mai?" (can, no?). He nodded and I flipped the crab over and watched as it walked down the beach into the sand. None of the other crabs were moving and all appeared dead, but I figured it was worth a shot; so I picked the next one up, rewarded by the movement of its spiny tail. As crab number two shuffled down the beach, I went around flipping over all the crabs and watching them walk to the water. Through out all of this, the fisherman pretty much ignored me and so I presumed that what I was doing was okay. Reflecting on it later, I thought that I could have possibly just unintentionally mucked with nature by interrupting some suicidal horseshoe crab mating ritual, but rationalized that at least this way they have a choice and if they want to wash back up and flip over, it shouldn't be too hard for them to do.

After my crab salvation exercise, I made my way back to the bench and spent the morning reading up on "oneness" and "attachment" according to the Buddhist Philosophy. After a few short pages, I decided that maybe I don't want to be Buddhist (no offense Nary - we'll have to talk more about this one! :) There are a few things that I just can't reconcile with my current beliefs, such as the whole idea of the need to release oneself from attachment in order to find peace. I understand that because I am attached to my friends and my family, that being apart from them cause suffering, but it is a suffering I am willing to endure for the joy and peace that having them in my life brings. I also believe that I am here, not to find away to ease my own suffering, but to find a way to ease others. I had somewhat of a spiritual revelation and decided to look into Unitarian Universalism which greatly appeals to me because they believe in the inherent worth and dignity of every person; justice, equity and compassion in human relations; acceptance of one another and encouragement to spiritual growth; a free and responsible search for truth and meaning; the right of conscience and the use of the democratic process within congregations and in society at large; the goal of world community with peace, liberty, and justice for all; and respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part. And, of course, because it holds true to many of the positive aspects of Christianty with which I was raised.

(Sorry to veer from the topic of travel, but I think it is these days of quiet contemplation in a new place that can help you get the most out of the experience, which includes these philosophical tangents. The next time, I will name the post "philosophical tangent" in warning).

After my religious musings, still committed to an open mind and a quest for understanding during my upcoming retreat, I packed up and headed back to Chai Ya. I spent the afternoon riding up and down rural roads between flooded rice fields, and lazy cows and buffalo muching on grass in vibrant green fields; torn from my journey only by the ominous, yet strikingly beautiful, approaching dark clouds of rain.