TURTLE ROCK
Koh Tao in the 20th Century: Part 2
Excerpts taken from Naked Farang: Four Weddings and a Coup
Like many of the people on the island, Stan and I first visited Koh Tao on the recommendation of friends. Johnny and Sarah had stayed at a quiet, little place called New Way on the main stretch of beach, so that was where we headed. It was to be the start of a beautiful relationship that was only soured when the dark forces of commercialism finally took their inevitable hold. At the end of the first visit, Stan and I ran out of money after I stupidly lost sixty pounds. The owners of New Way, Pan and Ot, let us stay on the beach and even fed us for free during the last few days before we left for Bangkok to fly home. On my third visit, the recently appointed Scottish Dive Shop Manager wasn’t going to let me stay at New Way if I didn’t sign up for a dive course. Fortunately, Ot stepped in, but it seemed to cause some friction. I probably knew even then, right at the start of that trip, that I would never return.
The New Way I first knew was the epitome of Koh Tao. They had a slogan that summed it all up perfectly: Just One More Day. Nobody wanted to leave. Even when people had booked their onward tickets, they would wake up on the day of their departure overwhelmed with an urge to procrastinate. And who could blame them? Not I, for I too succumbed so often that the motto might have been better re-worded as Just One More Week. There were a lot more leaving parties than actual departures at New Way!
What were we scared of? The boat trips weren’t that bad. Was it the thought of what we were leaving behind, or the realisation of what we were returning to? I suspect it was a bit of both. After months of living the hippy dream, we just weren’t ready to return to a world governed by time and money, even if we knew we were only delaying the inevitable.
Time was truly an abstract concept on Koh Tao. You ate when you were hungry and slept when you were tired. Simple. I would often wake up far earlier than I would have even considered feasible back in the real world eager not to miss a single minute of the dawn’s sweet serenity. After making myself a coffee, I would sit in carefree bliss on the deserted beach, watching the surreal light subtly changing as the sun rose lazily from the hills behind, and the sea and sky, indistinguishable entities, melted into an ethereal horizon lost in infinity before me. With nothing to do but contemplate just how lucky I was to be there, what better way could there be to start the day?
Only the need for money tied us to the real world, but at New Way even that was treated in such a way as to minimize its obscenity. Upon arrival, you were assigned a book in which you recorded everything you ate and drank while you were there. As well as meals and drinks that were ordered, you could help yourself to coffee, tea, beer and various snacks, all of which you were trusted to record in your book ready to be totted up and paid when you finally left. Nobody abused this trust. In fact, we would occasionally write down more than we had ordered just to be sure. It wasn’t uncommon for an early morning conversation to be about how many beers had been drunk the night before. “I know I definitely had four, maybe five. I’ll write down six just in case.”
The trust extended further. There was no need to lock any doors. Everybody knew everybody and, anyway, there was no place for miscreants to run to or hide. It was a hell of a long swim to escape heaven’s retribution.
Despite this, and for some reason that I still fail to fully comprehend, I decided to play it safe one day and in doing so made a very costly mistake. Stan and I were heading into Ban Mai Had and rather than leaving our worldly valuables (an old tobacco tin containing 60 GBP and some American Express traveller’s cheques), I decided on a foolish impulse to take them with me. I stuffed them in my shorts’ pocket and off we went. It was only when we returned to New Way that I realised the tin had gone. Somewhere along the way it had fallen out of my pocket. Stan, I and a couple of friends frantically but forlornly retraced my steps. It was nowhere to be found. I called American Express to cancel the traveller’s cheques and arranged to pick up new ones on Koh Samui the next day.
After going through the formalities of getting a police report and new traveller’s cheques, we had a look round Koh Samui’s capital, Na Thon, and then decided to stop off for a night at Ban Kai Bay on Koh Phangan to visit Johnny and Sarah on our way back to Koh Tao. The highlight of the brief stopover was waking up with our bungalow on fire. Stan, Lek and I had been puffing the magic dragon again, and we had all crashed out with a candle burning on a wooden shelf. The candle had burnt down and set fire to the shelf and this had started to spread. Later, Johnny had spotted smoke spewing out of the bungalow. He probably thought that he was missing out on a monster session and so came over to join us. Once he realised the smoke wasn’t from the bong, he settled for rescuing us, although his northern English sense of humour dictated that his “rescue” involved holding a burning bag in front of my sleeping face and shouting, “FIRE!!!” It did the trick. The damage was, fortunately, only light and the traveller’s cheques had been spared. It would have been a bit difficult explaining that one to American Express after already getting replacements that same day.
When we got back to Koh Tao the next day, we were immediately informed that someone had left a message in the tiny post office on the notice board that served as a traveller’s point of contact in the days when the Internet was still the domain of a few hardcore geeks. The tin with the now useless traveller’s cheques but minus the 60GBP had been handed in. Even though there was nothing of use and the cash was missing, it was still nice to know that someone had made the effort to take the tin and cheques to the post office and leave a message.
My karma was partly balanced a few years later when I was back on Koh Tao. While wading through the sea to fetch a wayward Frisbee, I found a 1,000 and two 20 baht notes in the knee-deep water. As I also found a 1,000 peso note in the Philippines on one trip, I guess I’m just about even. Don’t tell Stan, though. He still hasn’t forgiven me and he’ll want his cut.
Paul Snowdon - Excerpts taken from Naked Farang: Four Weddings and a Coup
Related article – Turtle Rock: Koh Tao in the 20th Century Pt 1
Related article – Turtle Rock: Koh Tao in the 20th Century Pt 3
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