Days 14-16

Day 14:  Get me the hell out of Phi Phi.  Risto and I hop the first boat for Koh Lanta and as we step off of it Risto is again buttonholed by a tuk-tuk driver who "knows a good place to stay."  I go along for the ride but am getting sick of being shuttled around and long to simply strike out on my own, start walking and see where the road takes me.  We arrive at the Ting Tong, an irie bar owned by Tofi who also promotes Muy Thai fights and concerts, sells party favors and shoots pool with the local police.  I strike up a conversation with a Canadian expat named Jocko who tells me that during certain times of the year Koh Lanta's beaches are literally piled with the garbage from Koh Phi Phi.  The monsoon rains wash it all away, but the tourists are coming... As a matter of fact when we stepped off the boat there was a Phi Phi feeling to the port town, complete with an English expat who threw a flyer for his bar at us as we passed in our tuk-tuk.  Fuck fuck.  But for now Koh Lanta is quiet.  I pitch my tent on the beach and fall asleep.

Day 15:  I feel as if I've finally arrived in Thailand, or at least at a place where I feel as if I can unwind and stay for a while.  Ironically, the feeling of wanting to travel on my own, extemporaneously -- along with the fact that there is a small breaking wave a bit south of us and I take this as a sign that I'm meant to follow it (and follow it I will, all the way to Bali, but again I'm getting ahead of myself) -- makes me pack up the tent and start walking down the beach.  I tell Risto that it's time to part ways and I feel surprisingly light on my feet as I walk down the beach.  I'm smiling.  After a few kilometers the beach turns into rocks and I walk to the road.  The Thais who pass me are all smiles and "hello"s, no doubt surprised to see a farang on foot, laden with a gigantic bottle of Cooly Fresh water and a backpack.  I have a lunch of fresh pineapple, which I peel myself, and tamarind which is so energizing that, as a Frenchman at the Ting Tong told me, if you were to eat it everyday you'd operate with "full power, 24-hour, no shower."  The girls on motorscooters who pass me as I walk are some of the most beautiful I've seen thus far, and when I finally arrive in Lanta Old Town I find that the people are gracious, happy and quick to laugh or play a joke.  They've got a charming rascality to them and the town itself is a prosperous, quiet place not geared towards tourism.  There are, of course, tourists as well, but most of those who come to Lanta are of a different breed than the Phi Phi set.  In Lanta Old Town I stay at an old fish merchant's turned guesthouse and the owner, Bao, teaches me a little Thai.  It's a quiet evening in Old Town and I feel fine.

Day 16:  Here in Koh Lanta I've begun to hear the muezzin calling the faithful to prayer in the evening, a sound which will become more common the further south I go.  It is a softly beautiful sound, almost a lament, and in these tropical surroundings under a pastel sky I too feel the urge to fall on my knees and touch my head to the ground.  It's a much needed change from Phi Phi where one hears the flyer-plastering booze shills calling the sober to drink.  Lanta as yet is a far cry from Phi Phi, but probably will not escape the onslaught of the tourists' trampling feet; sadly it is much too beautiful, the people too welcoming, its soul too pure to escape defilement.  But right now in Lanta Old Town all I hear is the wind wafting the muezzin's wail out over the water.  The rhythmic ploonkaploonk of my gigantic water bottle as I walked south out of Khlong Khong and the Ting Tong was nearly as sweet a sound to me, signifying a sort of resilient solitude, as if I carried on my back and in my two hands everything I could need to survive and even thrive.  My tent, a few clothes, first aid kit, water and a bit of food are all I need.  In other news Bao, the owner of the old fish merchant guesthouse, is a jolly character.  I talked him down from 500b to 400 for my room the day I came in, and he has refused payment for letting me borrow his motorscooter after we'd agreed on a price of 200b for the day.  Now he keeps jokingly suggesting that I borrow his flip-flops when I step out into the street.  I told him I'd buy him dinner if he gave me a Thai lesson during the meal, but he declined.  I don't think he wants to repeat word after word untold times in his 5-tonal language for some silly farang from god-knows-where-Wyoming-is.  Mai bpen rai.