Volume 16

Magic Moments

How does one celebrate an event with as much hype and significance as Y2K? Well, since each of you has already pondered (and by default come to an answer) this question, I won't pontificate here, but as you know from prior Chronicles, I won't be able to control myself through the whole piece.

Carrie and I shared the last gasps of the 90's with friends from San Francisco. Jenn had committed to the trip last spring and got the time off despite a company-wide ban on Y2K vacations. Susan (a fellow traveler), Carrie and I decided we could arrange our non-schedules to be in Thailand over that period (even though that meant a commitment, which by definition travelers are loath to do). By late summer, Ward decided our idea was crazy enough to be a part of. We were never told that Warren had decided to join us (maybe it was a not a conscious decision), he was just there when we met Ward and Jenn at the airport. In my rush to greet him, I nearly knocked over the guy that stood between us. As it turned out, that guy was Ward, rendered unrecognizable by the razor that stole his trademark locks and beard. That was how our odyssey began. From there, we traveled together in perfect blissful harmony and lived happily ever after. OK, maybe blissful harmony is an exaggeration (six people traveling together for one month, with unique desires, unexplored expectations, differing financial means and no real plan). Even if it was true, it wouldn't be very interesting to write about.

No, I am not going to dwell on our difficulties, differences, dilemmas, downs or dismayed disagreements. Instead, I'll just lump them all together as life lessons in communications and decision making. Making decisions is not one of my strengths. It has been suggested that I have a mediator's gift/curse of seeing both sides of issues (see Eneagram personality type #9) and often choose to stay neutral (avoid conflict) until a decision is absolutely required or becomes obvious of its own accord. It would be out of character to either dispute or fully agree with this categorization, but I can confirm that decision making is one area in which Carrie and I have continually worked/struggled throughout our travels. When our travel team expanded from two to six, the complexity of the process grew exponentially. Not only did we have individual needs and desires to meet, we had other individuals and the good of the group to consider as well. If difficulties have silver linings (beyond life lessons), I found it reassuring that among this group of friends, many of our hardships were the result of individuals trying to suppress personal desires in an attempt to make everyone else happy. Of course this led to predictable suppression-related problems, but at least it wasn't a constant battle of "me, mine and I." In retrospect, me mine and I found that these challenges provided a stark contrast from which it was easy to recognize and appreciate the magic as it happened.

The first "big picture" decision we made was to begin and end our time together on beaches. So, we set off to find a beautiful, quiet, affordable and not-too-developed beach in Thailand. As Leo D found in his recent movie, this noble aspiration was not a unique one (especially as thousands were arriving daily for the Y2K holiday season). Trusting the traveler referral network, we went where friends of friends had suggested and ended up on the beautiful island of Koh Mak (near the Cambodian border).

Ward's idea of exploring was a little different. He would strap on his running shoes and camera gear and return hours later dehydrated, scratched and bleeding with a big grin on his face (I can't wait to see the pictures).

None of us were too disappointed when our stay on Koh Mak was extended an extra day. We were a little late (island time) and thought we had missed the boat, but as it turned out there was no boat. The driver of the only boat off the island decided not to go that day (island life). This did add an extra element of challenge to our plans to see the full moon over Sukhothai. So, we introduced the newcomers (FNGs) to the diversity of Asian travel: A 30-minute jeep/trailer ride to the pier, a 3-hour boat ride (over unusually rough seas), a six-hour drive to Bangkok (in a minivan that was magically waiting for us), an overnight train to Phitsanulak, a local bus to the bus station, an inter-city bus to Sukhothai and finally a funky rickshaw/taxi/motorcycle thing to a guesthouse (just 28 hours after we started).

If the effort seemed heroic, the event proved more than worthy. We had heard that multiple celestial coincidences (i.e., full moon on the solstice) would make the last full moon of 1999 bigger and brighter than it had been in over 100 years. We thought it would be nice to watch it rise over the ancient ruins of Sukhothai. A few others had the same idea but they weren't satisfied with simple natural beauty (and clearly had more money to invest in the event). A small group of (no more than 20) Japanese tourists arranged for an elaborate performance that included traditional Thai dancing, music, a historical battle re-enactment, fireworks and (our favorite) the launching of at least 30 fire-fueled glowing paper "ghost" balloons that floated off into the full-moon-lit night.

What to do for Christmas? Religious diversity, confusion and indifference left our group with little interest in the historic tradition of the holiday (typically American). We were happy to avoid (most of) the consumer-oriented propaganda of the over-marketed event. Being with our families was not an immediate option. That left us agreeing on just one important aspect of the day: FOOD. A home cooked feast seemed out of the question until we met Maew. With patience and a humor, she guided us through the cooking our own Thai Christmas feast in her home/cooking school. Pad Thai, spring rolls and green-curry chicken might not be traditional yuletide fare, but anything cooked with laughing friends meets my definition of a celebration. The food being delicious was just an added benefit.

New Year's Eve 2000 was a HUGE party on Koh Pha-Ngan. Thousands of people flocked to the island like lemmings to drink, dance and party on the beach til dawn. Thankfully, we were nowhere near there. We enjoyed the big event in the small Northern Thai town of Pai. Here, we stayed in a wonderful artist home/guesthouse ("Sipsongpanna") on the banks of the peaceful Pai River. As recent graduates of Warren's crash courses on biking, we spent our days roaming the countryside on rented motorbikes (proudly wearing the brightly colored helmets that were our symbolic diplomas). The uncharacteristically cold nights and mornings found us scrambling to stay warm and brought a few critical comments aimed towards a certain friend (back in San Francisco) who had advised against packing warm clothes. However, these comments were taken with a grain of salt as they came mostly from the individual who left his fleece on the bus.

In planning a ritual to accompany our Y2K celebration, we decided it would be fun to share our personal reflections of the period past. That raised an interesting question. At such a milestone, how far back do we reflect? The whole century made sense, but the first 2/3 was a little fuzzy (at least in my memory). We settled on personal retrospections of the 90's and had a wonderful time sharing stories, thoughts, lessons and noted changes. Still, I felt the exercise suffered from its constraint. A decade was both too narrow for the magnitude of the celebration and too broad for meaningful comprehension. We simply don't live our lives in 10-year blocks. We live our lives moment by moment. Sometimes, when I am paying attention, I am able to appreciate those moments as they are happening. Then I know I am alive and those are the moments that matter (ah, the previously promised pontification).

Our team took up all three of the Sipsongpanna bungalows, but that didn't to scare the locals away. As the sun set on the 90's Thai food and friends began to appear from everywhere. By 10 o'clock we were all stuffed and schmoozing. I was behind the bar pouring punch and playing DJ (feeding my almost-forgotten hunger for western music). Ward was dancing with our host (who had aggressively created and tasted the non-virgin punch). Jenn and Carrie were making friends by the bonfire. As the magic hour approached we all found ourselves around the fire in a group of about 15 (all Thais except us). There was no language barrier as they all spoke English. There was not even a significant cultural barrier because most in the group were advertising urbanites from Bangkok. The long-awaited moment came and went with a peaceful toast. Smiling faces lit by firelight under a canopy of stars is how I will remember it. In the end, the place was the least-important aspect of the night.

By the time the crystal ball was dropping into Time Square, we had already awakened, packed and moved on with our lives. We were running out of days together and once again on the hunt for friendly sand. This time our quest was a harder one as we headed further south toward the traditionally popular islands and beaches. As expected, we found some amazing places and lots of people.

Despite Krabi's spring-break feel, we stayed two nights in a bland (but vacant) hotel so we could visit the nearby phenomena of Tham Phra Nang/Raileh beach (massive rock formations rising dramatically out of the ocean) and Wat Tham Seau (1,272 steps of apparently unique sizes up to a stunning view). Each was worthy of more time than we gave it, but we were anxious to move on to Koh Lanta. For many reasons (some unknown and probably unknowable), this popularly "quiet" island did not do it for any of us. The fact that we could not find rooms and had to "tent it" on the beach surely didn't help, but we knew our evacuation was the right choice shortly after we stormed the friendly beach of Koh Bubu.

Bubu Island doesn't show up on most maps. As Carrie and Jenn can attest, the small island can be paddled around in less than an 30 minutes (However, only Jenn can attest that this feat can be accomplished without getting wet). BuBu's single resort is only open half the year. The rest of the time the giant lizards reign supreme. Come to think of it, the giant lizards reigned supreme while we were there. They didn't show much fear of us, but were able to demonstrate excellent "cobra" yoga postures (that those of us with less-flexible backs can only dream about).

Nature kept amazing us during our too-few days on Koh Bubu. My favorite occurrence was the pod of dolphins that swam within a few yards of the beach and entertained us for at least 10 minutes (not an easy task in this age of split second media images). Less appreciated was the allegedly "giant" spider that persuaded two of the team to change bungalows (but was able to hide successfully from the rest of us). Lastly, there was the double rainbow that wished us farewell on our final afternoon.

That final day on BuBu was also my birthday. It was wonderful to share the occasion with good friends to whom I felt even closer after our many shared experiences and adventures. However, it felt almost selfish to be the center of attention on our last night together. Thankfully, the celebration was also a chance for us to reflect and share our feelings about the past weeks. But no, the night didn't end in a tearful group hug (of course there was a group hug, just not at the end).

Thanks to Susan, we left Koh BuBu in a blaze of glory. She chose that night for her virgin fire-chain lighting. No more practicing with tennis balls. No more dry runs. She doused the fabric ends of her leash/chains with kerosene, lit them and whirled them around, about and above her body to the approving cheers of the crowd (OK, there wasn't much of a crowd because it was a tiny island, but it was still really awesome). She later commented that it was the sound of the fire whirling past her head that she had least expected.

If our moments turn out exactly as we anticipate them, how can they be magic?