While living in Southeast Asia, as with pretty much anywhere else we live, one of the goals is to get certified in as many ridiculous things as possible. Win already has Thai Massage under his belt, but hopefully next term I will even that one out. We would love to learn to blow glass and weld. We also want to get Scuba certified, and with its clear water, coral reef, and extensive marine life, southern Thailand is an excellent place to learn to scuba dive.
Unfortunately, I can hardly swim.
I have always considered swimming to be more of a survival tactic than a fun summertime activity. This may be due in large part to the fact that I never properly learned how to swim. An incident in which a chubby pig-nosed kid held eight-year-old me underwater didn’t help. The second time he did it helped even less. I can swim well enough to not drown going from point A to point B, given that A and B are not far apart. I hold my nose when I go underwater. I don’t go in water if I cannot touch the ground. I am just not a swimmer.
Back in December we spent a three-day weekend on Koh Tao. We decided to go on a full day snorkeling trip. Babysteps along the road to eventual scuba certification.
At the first dive spot, I donned the full snorkel gear, climbed down into the water, and abruptly panicked. The fins were twisting and turning underwater, trying to pull me down; the life jacket was sneaking up in an attempt to suffocate me; the mask was all wrong; the boat was alternating in its efforts to push me underwater and inch the ladder out of my reach. That was it, I couldn’t do it. I sat on the boat crying, shaking, and smoking a cigarette while our guide tried to comfort me in Thai.
I calmed down by the next spot we stopped --- a cove with much calmer water and more to see --- and took Win’s advice. I went in without the fins (which I still think should be called flippers). Without the waves and awkward, uncontrollable frog feet, it was quite pleasant. Fish skittered past below and around us, blue and yellow, iridescent, neons, in a variety of shapes and sizes. I was in water and I was enjoying myself.
It is now March and we are going through southern Thailand on our way to Malaysia. We planned to spend time in Hat Rai Leh and Koh Phi Phi, with the goal of snorkeling on Phi Phi, this time with fins.
Rai Leh is a peninsula cut off from mainland Thailand by a series of towering cliffs. Accessible only by longtail boat, Rai Leh is renowned for its world class rock climbing. We found a room on the cheap side, just five minutes’ walk to the white sand beach and turquoise water that makes the other side so expensive. Aside from rock climbing, which neither of us do (Okay, Win claims to rock climb a little, but I have yet to see proof), there is little to do other than lounging on the beach drinking overpriced cocktails or kayaking around the peninsula’s various cliffs and rock formations. We decided to stay two nights in order to kayak without the pressure of catching a ferry in the same day.
The kayaking looked spectacular. But, being yet another water sport, in the open ocean with its waves and speed boat wakes, not to mention speed boats, was something I found mildly terrifying. I had been in canoes in lakes, but never in a kayak. I was expecting more than an oversized piece of plastic with seats. We were the only ones in life jackets, and I’m sure Win was simply humoring me. Every time we hit waves, no matter how small, my chest would tighten up. What if we flip over?
But we didn’t. And eventually I accepted that we probably wouldn’t.
Once we broke away from the flocks of other kayakers, the cliffs were even more impressive than from a distance. A surprising combination of geological happenings, they were eroding from the bottom while sprouting massive stalactites from the sides and the tops of eroded caves. Trees sprouted from every nook.
The stone giants loomed over us tranquilly as we figure-eighted our way around and between them. We stopped on tiny hidden beaches, where I was stung by an equally tiny jellyfish and pinched by a miniscule crab. Kayaking was exhausting, but it was yet another step forward in my comfort with water. I even was conversationally tricked by Win into agreeing to go parasailing.
Next stop Koh Phi Phi. We braved the frat party, tourist-only atmosphere in lieu of the world class diving. While we didn’t have time (nor was I yet at the comfort level) to try to get Scuba certified, we figured that we would stay two nights and spend the day in between on another snorkeling trip. We also thought that by taking a longtail boat trip, rather than a big boat, we would stand the best odds of having a small group like on Koh Tao.
First stop, open water. I once again panic, this time based on the fact that the lifejackets are all big enough to fit a grizzly bear of a man and will not adjust to a small enough size to not make me feel like I’m drowning. I was shown up by a pregnant woman, snorkeling sans lifejacket. But half of our group wasn’t snorkeling either, so it wasn’t such a disaster.
But the rest of the trip was. An old Spanish woman swam out too far and was trapped on a coral reef perch, bleeding and crying. Our boat sputtered to a stop in open water and, when efforts to tow it behind the other longtail boat failed, we bobbed and ate lunch until a replacement arrived. The new boat wasn’t big enough to hold all of us, so we were precariously spaced in order to not tip it over. The new captain skipped all but one snorkeling spot (the one cove, at least, was as beautiful as advertised). Luckily, the smaller boat had smaller lifejackets, so I was able to join Win in snorkeling comfortably. It was the abridged version of our full day of snorkeling.
We reached Maya Bay, the backdrop for the movie The Beach and supposed climax of the trip, and had to swim, scramble over sharp rocks, climb rickety, moss-covered steps, and then walk to get there (something that the pregnant woman, children, elderly people, and now a sick woman couldn’t do). It was swarming with people and boats, and the water was a pale murky green. Compared to the bright blues and turquoises of everything else we’d seen I couldn’t see what all the fuss was about.
And then it started to rain. Hard. The sunset portion of the trip was cancelled. Despite the roof over part of the boat, it was raining inside the boat as much as outside. We sped back to Phi Phi, soaked, shivering, and protecting our camera case with a lifejacket.
Land was in sight when our captain got the longtail stuck atop a massive underwater rock (one of many now visible due to low tide). I envisioned multiple sinking scenarios. When he finally freed the boat and made his way through the minefield to reach shore, we leapt to the safe haven of solid ground. It wasn’t even our beach, but being an island meant we could walk back. I was not going to drown.
I still haven’t mastered the flippers. Win has (hopefully) gotten used to my clinging to him like a wet baby koala anytime the water is too deep or something touches my foot. He gives me solid advice and information to stave off the panic, things like “You can’t touch here” are always better than the surprise of sinking. While Phi Phi’s misadventure did nothing in the journey to scubaing, at least I didn’t drown.
