RAILAY BEACH - Celebrating Christmas on the Beaches of Krabi with (clockwise from upper left) Jim, Lon, Martha, Jonathon, and Long.

Week 10
December 31, 2001 - South Thailand
"Beach People"

Dear Thor:

In my short time traveling, I've discovered that it's not the surroundings that make the experience…it's the people. I am lucky to have met some extraordinary people along my Journey. Most of my experiences have been good - a few of them have been unpleasant. This week was an example of both.

It started off rather wonderfully with a reunion. I returned to Railay Beach in south Thailand to spend Christmas Eve and Day with three friends that I'd met over the past two months: Lon and Martha Ficke helped me unruffle my feathers after a harrowing first day in Bangkok; and Jim Tomonto helped show me around Railay Beach when I first visited there two weeks ago. Both the Ficke's and Jim crossed my path at times when I was lost and needed help.

Amazingly, Jim had met the Ficke's a few months earlier when he was traveling through New Zealand, so we all knew each other from different chance meetings. I discovered that connection during my first visit to Railay Beach. I was sharing "Nepali war stories" when Jim asked if I bumped into a couple named Lon and Martha who were traveling through Nepal at the same time.

When I told him that I knew them from Thailand, we laughed at the coincidence (I know…there are no such things), and then we loosely hatched a plan for all of us to spend Christmas together.

I probably sound like a greeting card cliché, but I really had a Merry ol' Time with Lon, Martha, and Jim. We spent Christmas Eve sunning on the beach and then ate pizzas and sundaes for dinner. And on Christmas Day we all slept in and lazily drifted through the warm day with nothing on our agenda. Later that night, we exchanged "traveler's gifts" while drinking Rum and Coke (and Red Bull) from a bucket. Everyone got books, bug spray, candy and toilet paper - the perfect gifts for the long-term traveler.

Looking back, I probably should have stayed there longer. However I felt a tug inside of me telling me to move on. Part of that tug may have been the Traveler's Bug that was gurgling in my nether regions again. My Nepali intestinal problem was back, and after hearing horror stories from other travelers, I was starting to worry that I might have a parasite or something. The best antidote is usually a visit to the world-class Bangkok General Hospital up north.

I also wanted to head north to check out a tiny island that I'd heard about from Liz and Thomas - a couple who I met on a train platform three weeks earlier. They had been traveling non-stop for several years and were on their way to the island - or "paradise" as Liz liked to call it. They told me that it was very secluded and not at all "touristy."

Their invitation intrigued me, but I was more fascinated by Liz and Thomas. They seemed so worldly. They were eccentric and creative, yet seemingly so grounded. And in many ways, I thought I saw myself in them - or at least how I thought I might look in twenty years - traveling the globe and sharing ideas while feeding my creative inner-soul.

More than anything, I longed to just talk to them again. Our train conversation was intoxicating. Magical. I felt so "adult" in the way they'd listen to my views. And when they agreed with them, it was as if they were replenishing a well of unsatisfied needs that I didn't even know had run dry. I felt important, accepted - even worthy.

Thomas would look at me with his steely eyes that seemed to convey that he was listening to me on levels far deeper than just hearing. And Liz would laugh with glee whenever I said something that agreed with her LifeView, then excitedly rattle-off about some related topic.

Maybe it was their long, hippie hair, or perhaps it was their "free to be you and me" attitude, but I felt like it was the seventies again, and I was a child in their presence. And in my eyes, I had found two gurus - teachers who had seen the world that I wanted to see. So when they invited me to visit them on the island, I felt like they wanted me to be part of the team. Yea for me!

So I left my dear friends Lon, Martha, and Jim on Railay Beach and headed north to the Promised Land of Liz and Thomas. For three days, I battled my gurgling intestines, grueling bus rides, gut-burning food, and rude smokers. But when I got there, it didn't take very long for Liz and Thomas' spell to lose its magic.

Don't get me wrong - the island was beautiful. It was small, quiet, and lush. And the Thai people who ran the many bungalow lodges were gentle and caring. But a small group staying on the island seemed…strange.

For example, they acted suspicious. Was I one of those Yuppies who came to spoil their little bit of untouched paradise? It certainly seemed that way to them. After all, I arrived with a laptop computer.

"The Internet has reached our island. Time to leave," said one.

"Oh, so you're going to write a book about this," said another with a worried side-glance.

I also noticed that this same small group was gossipy, which seemed so out of character. How could they spout out philosophy and artistic prose in one breath, then turn around and whisper secrets in another?

And then there were the other things that seemed odd. For example everyone on the island acted like they wanted to "check out" for a while. Yet everyday, this small group would rush to get the daily newspaper just so they could read depressing headlines about the world that they were trying to avoid. Then they would sit around the table and complain about all the injustices in the world while smoking cigarettes. Everyone seemed to have their stance on issues, yet no one seemed to want to offer any solutions while enjoying their bit of paradise.

They did want to offer their complaints about tourists. "Oh God forbid! They just ruin the native culture and everything!" But it didn't seem to occur to this small group that they were tourists too. And that any tourist "bad" or "good" brought desperately needed income to Thai people. And was culture really the main issue when the native people were homeless, starving, and undereducated?

And when I tried to shape the discussion by introducing a book that I had just finished reading, this small group literally judged it by its cover! "Oh would you look at that. The author put his picture on the front. Oh, I'm already getting a bad vibe from that. And did you notice how his glasses are covering his eyes? What's he hiding?"

ARGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Enough! If you wanna check-out - fine, check-out. We all need a break from time to time, so go off, sun on the beach, and stay away from the damn newspaper. But if you just want to bitch and complain and gossip and act like every new person arriving is some Yuppie scum who is there to ruin your little bit of private paradise, then please get some perspective on Life! Why don't you volunteer to build a house? Or help out at a soup kitchen? Mentor a child. Invent a cure for cancer. Or help elderly people plant trees in their yards.

Do SOMETHING with that incredible mind of yours!

But I could tell that no one in this small group seemed interested in doing that. Zoning-out, toking-up, and railing about the injustices of Mankind were the only things on the agenda.

And that hurt me because I'm actually a champion for a lot of their causes. There is a golden nugget of truth within each of their views. But when they tarnished it with suspicion, fear, a sense of superiority, and a sheer unwillingness to do anything, it really became twisted and sick.

So this morning, I woke up and started packing.

My only regret is lying to Liz when she confronted me about my departure. I should have told her that her "paradise" gave me the creeps. I should have explained how the suspicious and gossipy atmosphere made me uncomfortable. And more importantly, I should have told her that I thought she was one of people in the small group that was creating the atmosphere.

But when I saw her worried side-glance, I didn't know how she would react to my honesty. And my gurgling intestines didn't leave me with any strength to find out. So I lied and said that it wasn't my time to be there. Then I left the island and never looked back.

So I now write to you from Bangkok. It's New Year's Eve, and was very lucky to have caught a last minute flight today to get to the hospital. The doctors and nurses were great, and they even offered to admit me for a couple of days for observation. I might have accepted the offer if they had cable TV, but I was feeling strong enough to be on my own, so I checked into a hotel.

I've just settled-in for a night of much needed rest after all the "people experiences" of this week. I've got my newly prescribed medicine, my bottles of water, and a good book. What a way to ring in the New Year! (Woo Hoo!)

I hope you have Happy New Year wherever you are. I don't know where I'm headed next. I'll probably be in bed for a few days, and then who knows? But as usual, I'll write you next YEAR. Hah! (I know…bad joke.) I'll write to you next week. ;-)

As always, be well, be present. And Namaste!
Scotty