Happiness in Numbers and The Bioluminescent Plankton.



Breakfast was the usual mango from the open air corner market. Sitting on the sidewalk, juice running down to my elbows. Watching foreigners make the slow motion, hungover search for the mornings first cup of coffee.

Ali's taxi pulled up outside 7/11 that afternoon. Right off the boat from Bangkok. Toting an adorable straw sun hat, Mary Jane crocks and a big white smile of on coming island bliss. 

We'd only met once before back home and had talked about coming to Thailand. Mused about meeting here. Who'd of thought, a world away we would be sitting, having coffee and meat pies on a busy side street in Koh Tao. 

We spent most of the day on the beach, rented paddle boards. 

The English man renting them out wrote our names as OllÄ« and Ghabji (a silent J). 
Not having much paddle boarding experience, we plowed over booies, snorkelers and swimmers. Crashed into boats, rocks and each other, knocking me Chaplin style onto my ass. 

There's a shack on the beach that blends up the most heaven sent coconut shakes, with a good soundtrack old 90s hits.
Ali and I sat on the stools, talking about cavemen and consciousness as Mambo #5 played in the background. 

As we were walking Ali confessed she needed a razor cause she was having some downstairs issues. None of the minute marts had razors for sale. But there was a massage parlor across the street with "Waxing 500b" written on the door. 

It was dimly lit, with a hush that hit you right after the high AC. 
All the woman were busy adjusting and massaging 5 or 6 big sandy haired Swedish guys.Total bro fest! 

Stripped down to little less than our skivvies, with the 6 swedes drinking some post massage tea on the other side of our curtain, a little Thai woman popped her head in "Bikini or Brazil? You want 500 bhat." 
We figured same price, might a well go all the way.

So, there are times in life when more is not better. 

5 minutes later I find myself gagged with a towel in my mouth and a little old Thai woman crawled up between my legs.

As you might know I've never given birth to a child, nor have I ever been tortured in a Chinese prison. But I feel like what we went through would trump either.
The women kept saying "Oh sorry, moment, moment." 
I pulled the curtain back and Ali  in tears, the lady sitting on her legs to keep them open. At one point we just started laughing, out of pity and pain.  The four of us laughing at the most unusual situation we had found ourselves in.

We hugged our women, feeling strangely bonded. Paid, yes WE paid for THIS and waddled to the bar across the street for a few mojitos to drown the pain. 

There are beautiful fire shows on the beach every night. Fire spinning, staffs, and a huge, blazing jumprope. They pull unlucky drunk tourists out of the crowd and make them have a go. 

A group of guys from our hostel were also watching. One came over and asked if we were going to see the illuminated plankton? Alway up for an adventure. 
Six of us (who all turned out to be complete strangers) pile into the back of a pickup truck and convince the Thai driver to take us to the other side of the island. Up and down dirt road, we got to the new beach stripped off our clothes and dove in, ready for the water to light up around us. I've seen Life of Pi, I know how this shit looks! 

Our taxi driver sat on the beach, hopefully amused at the six foreigners who paid to leave the beach they were on to come to a different beach for no good or apparent reason at all.

The water...did not light up. Some other lost travelers wandered up and were greeted by a crowd of nudist rising out of the water, try to get hem to have a swim.
Just before we all gave up, one of the girls noticed her feet. Every time she took a step the ocean floor lit up like a burst of stars. 
It was the most magical moment. All of us stomped on the sandy floor, completely transfixed. Interacting with the plankton, like a child's first Fourth of July sparkler. All consuming awe.  

There was a perfect sense of accomplishment as we piled back into the truck, we swayed and sang American Pie, Oasis and Hallelujah.

The truck pulled up in town, at 3am with us singing the last chorus of Hallelujah. We must have looked like some yuppie, mission group just back from building an orphan school. 

At the hostel, Ali took turns arm wrestling each nation.
"Oy Canada get over here!" 
Our group of perfect strangers sat under the yellow lights, listening to the rooster crowing, surrounded by sleeping street dogs, swapping embarrassing stories... Ali and I won, thanks to our little cosmetologists. 

It was a day of epic proportions. 
Having a community, how ever collaged or recently acquired, is a beautiful thing. 
And...an important possession for human happiness? 





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