An interlude in Thailand and a big brush with nature

I spent a little over two weeks in Thailand - two weeks spent giving my little brother Tom some insight into what backpacking in Asia is all about, as well as having a few giggles and getting thoroughly into the swing of island life with my old Aussie friends Grace and Jess and our new Scottish friend Michelle.

We had fun together. We got drunk on strong Thai rum, went wild and suffered the consequences the next day. We swam in the sea and we trekked in the mountains, rode elephants and bamboo rafted, we ate good food and we drank beer seasoned with formaldehyde, we snorkelled with the fishes and we dived with the whale sharks, scootered with hot chicks on the back and didn’t fall off. We played mini golf in forty degree heat. We laughed and we sweated. We caught night trains and food poisoning, lost our sunglasses in rivers and our heads in Bangkok. We got propositioned by fat chicks, freaked out, slept badly, got sick and tired and dozed for whole afternoons in hammocks…

Tom had a good time, although I suspect he’s more likely to describe his time as an amazing experience rather than a holiday of a lifetime. It was his first time in Asia, and while Thailand is quite developed and westernised in many places, it is still part of the developing world and has developing world problems. If I recall correctly one of Tom’s significant issues with the place was the lack of a decent sanitation infrastructure. The boy has a point. Sairee Beach on Koh Tao is like paradise… but only if you can pretend there isn’t raw sewage trickling down the sand and into the ocean metres from where people are bathing.

Two weeks is certainly enough time to enjoy a relaxing holiday in Thailand if you’re chilling out at a resort but it’s not much time if you’re backpacking and want to see more of the country than a beach, a swimming pool, the bottom of a cocktail glass and the pages of a Dan Brown novel. Thankfully I think Tom was more interested in having an experience than a holiday and in that sense I’m sure he wasn’t disappointed… but in some ways I was. I hoped he would take to the traveller lifestyle more like a duck to water than a fish out of it. I felt responsible for him having a good time and when I perceived that he was struggling I felt like I was failing. I suppose I was a bit naïve. I’d forgotten how it felt the first time I landed in a steaming Asian country and was forced to find my bearings in a seemingly alien culture.

Despite my concerns, Tom has reassured me since that his feelings about the trip are overwhelmingly positive. It’s true that he missed the comforts and the climate of home, he abhorred Bangkok and was challenged by the intense bouts of travelling… but there were moments he considers unforgettable, like sharing in a wedding celebration in a remote hill tribe village in the jungle of northern Thailand and sitting on a tropical island beach looking up at the stars and spotting a lightning storm far out to sea.

He also has mixed feelings about a few things, in particular the Thai rum buckets and their mania-inducing effects. There’s one story that springs to mind that I would love to share with you on the subject of the dangers of bucket stimulated psychosis but, alas, it is mostly Tom’s story so it must be his to tell. One day I hope he will let me write it down so we can all have a good laugh at his expense! And mine too.

I also had a good time in Thailand. For me it was all very familiar – it was my fifth time in Bangkok, my second visit to Chiang Mai and my third trip to Koh Tao. I suppose I’m a bit of a veteran, Thailand doesn’t really hold any surprises for me anymore – it’s quite predictable. Unlike India where you never know quite what’s going to happen next, Thailand exhibits the Ronseal Effect: it does exactly what it says on the tin. As long as you abide by it’s few unwritten rules then you will be safe and happy as well as hot and sweaty…

I tell a lie, I just stated that Thailand doesn’t hold any surprises for me anymore but I did get a big one when I whipped off this hot Thai chick’s pants one night and found myself confronted with a little brown cock…

I speculated for a good couple of minutes whether I should leave that line hanging but in the end realised that this blog will potentially be read by lots of different kinds of people, and while many may be amused and know I’m joking, some might be appalled and assume I’m not – so, for the sake of clarity, let me elucidate – there were no close calls with lady boys… not on this trip anyway.

There was a surprise though. A big one. It was about five metres long from tip to tail and it had a big, amiable grin.

I saw the whale shark on my first dive on Koh Tao on this trip. My alarm woke me at 7 o clock and I lay in bed for a couple of minutes debating with myself about whether I could be bothered to get up and go diving. This usually happens but the active, dynamic, outdoorsy Ollie that many of you are unfamiliar with invariably wins the argument. I got up, dressed and walked the short distance down the road to the dive shop. An hour and a half later we were 2 kilometres from Koh Tao and in the water preparing to descend. That’s the moment when you know it’s all going to be worthwhile – you’ve been through all the rigmarole of getting your kit together, getting it on, lugging yourself to the side of the boat and then balancing precariously top heavy as you slip on your fins one by one – as soon as you’re in the water you’re weightless and all you have to worry about is breathing.

We descended together to about 27 metres and the dive master – a chubby Mancunian with legs covered in mosquito bite scars and the gift of the gab and hence a disproportionately fit girlfriend – led us around the dive site, which was very nice. Visibility was good and we saw some nice little fishies. Suddenly there was a commotion. An underwater commotion is unlike one you might experience on land – it’s all very muted and in slow motion. I could hear a couple of people banging on their tanks and the sound of exclamations muffled by regulators (the bit the air comes through that you stick in your mouth). I looked around and observed half a dozen divers motionless in the water, looking towards the surface. I followed their gaze and then I saw it, gliding through the water towards us, a whale shark, it’s mouth wide and jovial, it’s eyes seemingly glittering with intelligence, it swam amongst us and then slowly faded away into the green-blue murk.

We followed for a while but it was far too quick, even at it’s most languid pace. With our pulses racing and our peeled, we continued with our dive. We saw a giant barracuda – big deal. We saw a nudie branch – break out the bubbly. Then we saw the whale shark again, flanked by it’s entourage of cleaner fish. It disappeared almost as soon as it arrived. Then we saw it again. And again. And again. It was circling the reef, seemingly fascinated by the ever increasing number of scuba divers thrashing excitedly in the water around it.

It was such an incredible beast. I can’t begin to describe the feeling of being in open water and having a shark at least ten times bigger than you pass within metres of where you’re floating. It’s not fear – because Whale Sharks are not dangerous. You experience a mixture of awe and adulation and visceral sensation that comes up from the depths of your inherited consciousness… you feel so alive it’s almost too much to bear.

I was out of the water and back on the boat changing my tank when a shout went up and the captain’s children started pointing into the water off the starboard side of the boat… starboard side? I’m having a laugh – I have no idea which side of the boat it was but when I looked I could see a huge shadow moving beneath the surface of the water. Quick as a flash I grabbed my mask and snorkel and dived into the water – I don’t mind telling you that as I did this I felt like an absolute hero. I haven’t had many opportunities to feel like a hero in my life but jumping off a diveboat in persuit of a shark was definitely one of them... it’s just a shame there were no hot chicks around to impress with my fearless machismo.

Absurd and unbelievable as it sounds, this sixth sighting of the whale shark was by far the best. I swam with near-manic haste towards where I thought the shark was to be found… and then I realised the shark was swimming towards me. I stopped dead in the water, bobbing on the surface, my mask and snorkel allowing me to observe the scene in the ocean below. The shark swam directly beneath me - it was less than five metres away. I duck dived down to within a couple of metres as it glided past and I had to fight the irresponsible compulsion to reach out a hand and touch it. Big nature at intimately close quarters… there’s nothing quite like it.

One of the dive instructors on our boat was a charming French girl called Aurelie who had over five thousand dives under her belt, but until that morning had never once seen a whale shark. There was also a couple who had just started their Basic Open Water training who had dived a staggering two times before. With only thirty dives behind me I felt quite privileged to have been so close to such an amazing creature.

As I said repeatedly for the rest of the week to anyone and everyone who was interested (and a great many who weren’t) swimming with the whale shark was the best thing that ever happened to me. In retrospect I reckon perhaps that was a bit of an exaggeration, but now that I come to think about it, some of the greatest moments of my life have been in nature.

To feel truly alive is to feel totally and unequivocally part of the natural environment in which you place yourself, without barriers and obstructions and safety nets, whether you’re at the bottom of the ocean or on top of a mountain – or in your local park with your toes curled in the grass. To experience the diversity, the beauty and the possibilities inherent in it first hand – that experience is something to be cherished, respected and sought after because it offers the ultimate perspective, and the true beauty of it is that it’s not difficult to attain – it’s not exclusive. All you really need to do is go into the countryside, walk up a hill and reflect for a moment on the sanctity of the natural world, and you will experience some measure of the freedom that is available to us all.

View my Thailand photographs