82. Ko Samet
Bia and Peter sat in a boat going to Ko Samet. Peter had seen the island from the pier. This is the kind of lifestyle I had imagined people had in the tropics, thought Peter. It is a colourful scene. The boat is bright orange and white, the sea is green, and the sky is blue. I have a pleasant breeze in my face and the air smells of seawater. Next to me I have the best of all, a Thai boy. I hope he behaves.
The foreigners going to the island were a different mix than the tourists in Bangkok. They were younger and travelled independently. Many were farang backpackers and some were Japanese.
Bia and Peter arrived at the north end of the island and managed to get ashore without dropping themselves or their bags in the sea. Landing was primitive, there were no stairs and they had to climb over things and walk a short plank while the crewmen helped them get onto the pier.
Welcome to Ko Samet, a large sign said. There were no big hotels; no roads worthy of the name and the cluster of houses could hardly be called a town. Touts guided them to a pickup truck that was waiting. It had benches but no roof. The truck filled with other tourists and after 50 meters it stopped where an official in uniform was waiting.
Bia and the other Thais paid 20 baht for a ticket to Ko Samet National Park. Peter and other farang paid 200. Bia thought this was entertaining.
- What are you laughing at? asked Peter.
- Is funny. You pay 200. I Thai people pay money only 20.
- I will remember this if we go to Australia. I will make sure you have to pay ten times more to see things.
- Not same, said Bia.
- It is exactly the same, said Peter.
The pickup truck entered a narrow dirt road that was filled with wet potholes, or craters would be more accurate, throwing the truck passengers in all directions. A couple of Japanese girls screamed and giggled. The road reminded Peter of films he had seen from expeditions in the jungle in Africa; only in the films they used big Land Rovers.
After going up and down a small hill in the forest the pickup truck came to the first beach. It had bungalows and a sandy beach with random rocks half-buried in it.
- Is here? asked Bia with expectation.
- Next one, said Peter.
The pickup truck went inland again and climbed another small hill and threw the passengers around once more as it navigated the large potholes.
- Off we go, said Peter when they arrived at the second beach.
Peter paid the driver and tried to catch up with Bia, who was already heading for the beach.
- Wait, shouted Peter. We have to check in and drop our bags. The reception is over there.
The reception wasn’t manned but a girl from the next-door restaurant came and changed role from waiter to receptionist. Peter paid 500 baht for a bungalow. Bungalow sounded grand but what they got was a small hut, barely large enough for a bed. It had a bathroom attached with a toilet and a shower. The walls were so thin Peter thought he could almost see through them. The windows had mosquito nets. Peter opened a window and looked out on the beach below. Not bad, Peter thought. Here I am on a paradise island and I brought my own paradise boy.
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