It's the second time in my life I've stepped off a plane. Thank you, Air Asia! It's nice to get off a plane alive. Yeah, I could get used to that.
I didn't really know this about myself, but it sure feels like flying's in my blood. No nerves, no airsickness. Who knows? Maybe I've got the makings of a pilot. Why not? At my age I've still got my whole life ahead of me.
But I don't even get a chance to look around properly before a dozen guys swarm me.
"Taxi, sir? Taxi? Cheap! You want a taxi?"
"Fine," I say like some bored rich bastard, and pick the closest one. "Hey, you! Tell me straight--how far'd you get in school? College? Anything? A master's?"
"No!" the guy says, surprised.
"Peeeerrfect! You're my man. I'm going with you! Where's your car?"
I get into his taxi and this time I switch to polite, proper English, just to be safe.
"Where are we going, sir?"
"To the beach, of course!" I say without thinking.
"Yes, but which one?"
What the hell? Problems? Already?
"Uhhh... the nearest beach. Just go straight. And the cheapest hotel," I add quickly.
I'm not really in the mood for conversation. I look out the window and, for the first time, I feel like I'm in a foreign country.
On these streets, it's like a huge pipe burst and scooters just keep pouring out in waves. A flood of them. Two-stroke engines buzz and crackle all over. I've never seen so many motorcycles, scooters, and bicycles in my life. And Thais.
Thais everywhere.
I don't know how long we've been driving, but the traffic thins out a little, and my stress starts easing up too.
I stay quiet. I've got plenty of time to study the people, the lush vegetation popping up at every turn, and the small, obnoxiously colorful buildings sprouting like mushrooms everywhere, in the most unexpected places. Poverty. And luxury. And poverty again.
I don't like traveling. I sink deep into the taxi seat, close my eyes. I take a deep breath.
The driver has the decency to keep his mouth shut. He minds his business. The radio plays English music for normal people.
I don't know what hotel to pick, but at the first one that comes up I get out, pay, and ask the driver to wait. Yes, yes! He absolutely has to wait. Absolutely.
God damn it! I guessed right: Thai hotel owners are nuts.
"$1,200 for one night?" I ask, and I can't believe my ears. If I can't believe my ears, maybe I can believe my eyes. The receptionist points at the price posted in plain sight: 1,200.
"1,200, Mister Tourist!" he confirms, smiling.
"Per night?"
"Per night, sir."
"What, does the bed levitate or something?"
"I don't understand."
I suck in a breath, then I smile sweetly and walk out. I feel like I'm about to have a stroke. I get back into the taxi.
"Let's go somewhere else," I mutter. "These guys are thieves!"
But I'm disappointed by the next two hotels too. Insane prices everywhere. Daylight robbery. Pigs!
"So what do we do?" I ask the driver. "Go farther south? Another hour?"
"Why not?" he answers, cheerful.
He smiles. Yeah...
Thailand is a country of smiles. Everybody smiles. They smile on the street, at cafés, at counters. I bet Thais smile even when they're sitting on the toilet. But they smile the most when they ask you for $1,200 for a hotel room.
After about fifteen minutes, my driver stops the car and talks for a few minutes with another Thai guy.
I hear something like "Hara hara, ciuba buba" and I don't understand a damn thing, but I understand they're talking about me because they both smile while the driver points at me, and basically at my kidneys.
I start getting a little cold, but I breathe easier when the guy starts the car and tells me he found something cheap.
"Define 'cheap,'" I growl from the back seat. "What does cheap mean?"
"Cheap," he says. "No more than $200 a night," he answers, smiling.
After another fifteen minutes, the guy stops again, right on the edge of a cliff. He gestures at the view with his hand. "Look! Do you like the Andaman Sea, sir?"
I guess it's time for me to see what I'm about to spend my money on.
My jaw drops. What a wonder! It really was worth coming all this way. Worth every penny. The Andaman Sea is the most beautiful, most wonderful thing I've ever seen in my life.
In fact, it's the only sea I've ever seen. And it's straight out of Heaven.
"This sea is part of the Pacific, right?" I ask, dizzy from all that beauty.
"No," my guy answers, shaking his head. "This sea is part of the Indian Ocean, near the Bay of Bengal. What you see in front of you is a small part of the Indian Ocean."
"Oh!" I deflate. "So this isn't the Pacific?"
"No. The Pacific is on the other side of the island, to the east. We're on the island's west side. The beach here is called Kata. But here, on the western side, almost everything is expensive. You're right."
"I'm interested in a beach without crowds. A quiet beach."
The Thai scratches his head, thinking.
"In that case, you've still got a bit to go. But it's worth it. What you're looking for is called 'Freedom Beach.' It's the quietest beach this season. Quiet means few tourists. Few tourists means low prices. Yes, I recommend Freedom Beach."
"Nice name! Sounds promising. I hope it earns its name!"
"From there, down at the bottom of the cliff, you will have to take a boat. You'll get there in an hour, tops, and it's only about 50 baht."
I unfold the map on the hood of the car. The guy is right. But since I'm in Southeast Asia, I really would've liked to see the Pacific.
Still, the Andaman Sea is no joke either. It's gorgeous. Fine, this works too. I'll stay here.
We part on good terms. The guy leaves satisfied, and I'm left up on the cliff. I look left and right. Nobody's bothering me. Good! I make my way down.
After fifteen minutes, I take the boat. Not 50 baht--70. Worth it. It's my first trip on a boat. I don't throw up. I'm not scared. I think I've got the stuff of a sailor in me.
The Andaman Sea is calm and the boat's route winds along the coastline. Sea foam throws salty spray in my face. It's beautiful! All of a sudden I'm really moved.
All along the shore, there's a huge writhing mass of people who look like they escaped from a mental hospital. Screams everywhere, and nonstop noise. I'm glad I'm getting away from them. I don't like Kata Beach. Too many people running around here. Good thing I didn't stay. I hate crowds.
We arrive at Freedom Beach, and a dark-skinned kid grabs the rope the boatman throws him and ties it tight to the end of a wooden platform.
I grab my flip-flops and jump out of the boat like Columbus.
"The hotel?" I ask fast. "Where is it? How far to the hotel?"
The boatman points at some huts along the shoreline.
"There!" he says, smiling. "Those huts right on the beach. You see?"
"Right on the beach?" I say, eyes wide. "Next to the water? Isn't that dangerous?"
The guy laughs, then turns his back and minds his own business. Maybe it's not that dangerous. He's a local, right? He knows what he's talking about.
I get there quick. Another smiling guy running the huts explains it to me. He looks honest.
I don't know how dangerous it is to sleep in a little house twenty steps from the water, but the price he asks me isn't obscene at all.
"We don't have many tourists right now and lots of empty huts. Freedom Beach is a more isolated beach," he explains, showing his white teeth. "It's only seventy bucks a night."
I flinch.
"How much did you say?"
"Seventy dollars."
Now we're talking! I'm one lucky bastard! I rent a hut for ten nights right away. How could I not? From $1,200 a night to $70 a night? Whoa! Jackpot! The best deal of my life.
Hooray! I love Thailand! It's a country of good people!
And, for the first time in a very long time, I'm smiling too.
From ear to ear.