Three days on Koh Pei Pei was more than enough, without sadness we left the adolescent lost-boy playground, and took the slow boat to Koh Lanta for some diving. I left my outstanding bar tab on a table at Puba’s bar and didnt look back. Due to a random booking, we found ourselves doing a home stay on a remote part of Lanta, commuting by moto bike. It felt like Thai Easy Rider, without the drugs and with a scooter, so I guess thats a poor comparison. This is one of those stories:
The darkness is a compelling depth of black, but our small beam of light is righteous with urgency. I cant read how fast we are going. Everything seems to be moving faster this night, even he frogs, who leap across the slick pavement in flocks, barely avoiding death by our skinny scooter tires. Even they have enough sense to get out of the way of this storm.
I cant even see the rain, I can only feel its pure tropical power. Large unfamiliar bullits envelop us, our only relief found under the small brim of our scooter caps. My eyebrows are the only dry part of my body. Puddles mar our path, spilling from the feeble shoulder of the road. Still, we race on, fearing the complete submersion of Koh Lanta Island.
Linzay has her arms wrapped around me, she yells warnings, encouragement and advice simultaneously and without breath, I think if she took a breath she might drown. It spills out of her like this: “ Watch your high beams A car is coming Your doing great Big puddle coming up.” I am maverick and she is goose. We contemplate the complete submersion of all known things.
Thunder roars. For a moment, lightening illuminate the jungle, bright as day, like God was using his camera flash.
Needless to say, this was not our plan. We left from the remote southern limits of the island with the comfort of sun on our windshield and the wind at our tail pipes. As soon as we reached the northern town, and our friends in Salidan, the black rolled quickly announced only by a low heavenly growl.
We stop at a Muslim run gas station, where a barrel is attached to a hose and hand pump which measures the liters. The locals are dressed in a pure white, heads covered, looking at us with wide smiling eyes. Together, we all laugh at our situation, this situation exceeds language barriers. Kids in crisp white gowns and matching hats jump on garden fertilizer bags in the middle of the shop. They dont even seem to notice that its raining.