A Bumpy Ride

---

By the Riverside

Having been served three or four chicken satay sticks by an outrageously camp waitor wearing a breathlessly tight pair of smart trousers, I was more than ready to board the catamaran to Koh Phangan! Tired and hot, we waited for the 'scheduled' arrival of the catamaran, whilst attempting to keep an eye on our luggage, the bags and bags and bags of it.

Stealing my attention from a rusted, crumbling boat harbour that was in refurbishment as I looked on, a man and his son drove up. The little boy was, well, little. 4 years old at a stretch? He bounced out of the car, followed by his dad, bags of bread in arms. I automatically shot him a smile, moments before I realised what he was dong here with this bread. He was helping to sell it to people; his dad would usher him forwards to 'take it to the customer'. It was quite a sight- the bread overwhelmed his little arms, yet he seemed happy enough. As they drove away again, he returned the smile to me, and I didn't kid myself as I thought of the greater understanding his world had imposed on this boy than I or my companions- but he was four years old.

A rush of energy that was attracted to the harbour- side informed us that the boat was incoming. An unreliable source that turned out to be. I've noticed in the country a great overpowering rush to the front of queues, to overtake traffic; it's a restlessness not dissimilar to London, however the need for it seems so much greater here, as if on so much more than not missing the 10:02 train depends on. We weren't impatient though, and it arrived soon enough. A line of scurrying ants was before us, it was making me unsure of the sufficient capacity of this catamaran, but you get beyond that when you're here- the caring about the procedure and sensibleness, the drooping en mass of live wires.

The catamaran filled my stomach with a plead of 'can I please get off now', but the dramatic dark silhouette of the island ahead comforted me in our imminent arrival. The landscape rose and fell, and rolled smoothly around its circumference, a delicate spoon of island dolloped onto the sea bed. By this time, the intense midday heat had given way to its gentler companion, and we rolled our suitases off to a slightly calmer island feel. Bartering for a sang-thoo was eventful, and after my uncle succeeded in explaining to a ruthless saleswoman that five more people were not going to fit, with their luggage, onto an already overflowing vehicle that was unsafe at the best of times, we managed to hop onto one (or, be helped onto one), sharing with just one other couple.

The journey that followed was one of the most enchanting of my 17 years. I only noticed the gradual filter of peach and pink in the sky when we arrived at the accom. The dutiful driver seemed to roll the thing gently along the landscape for hours, but I was too enthralled in the beauty and magic I had discovered to notice. Infact I noticed little of reality, and only regained informed consciousness when I saw in my companions' eyes a hint of nervousness directed downwards to the near 180 degree 'drop', is the only accurate way I can desribe it. With the beauty came deadliness, as Western films like to inform us. We wouldn't have minded but as you can imagine, aesthetically talking a 4x4 Jeep would not quite have matched the rugged island that thankfully not all aspcts of globalisation had touched. As far as I know, sufficient brakes had only been recently installed in the vehicles, yet the drivers had been doing it without for years so why start now? But, d'you know, we wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

---