Khao San road caters to that lazy slob in everyone. The cafes are open for breakfast at 6:00am but most of the customers are hold overs from the previous night's bar cruising. It's rare to spot dreary eyed backpackers emerging from their hostel before 10:00am at the earliest. Whenever traveling between any other places on my trip in South-East Asia, the bus has always departed around 7:00am. My bus to Ko Lanta from Khao San Road left at 6:00pm. Sweet serenity! I killed the afternoon watching pirated DVD's at the cafe next to my guesthouse then hopped on an incredibly lavish bus for only $10.

On the way down south I sat next to a professional welter-weight boxer from Persia. I'm neither female nor homosexual but I can comfortably admit that this was one handsome guy. What didn't he have going for him? The mysterious middle-eastern charm, the dark, rugged complexion, the cool accent, the fact that he could clobber the hell out of all but the most hardened fighters. With all that, and a fighting name like 'The Sultan', I expected at least a touch of arrogance. The wasn't a trace. He was truly one of the nicest and most down to earth people I've met on my travels and we had some interesting conversation on the road. He was heading to Ko Samui to fight a Muay Thai (wildly popular Thai kickboxing) bout, something he does every few months to stay limber and in shape for his other fights. It would be televised locally. I had picked the right seat and got to hear all sorts of fight stories from his fledging career in Asia. I'm not the biggest boxing fan, but it definitely beat some of the self-indulgent blabber I've been subjected to on other bus trips. We parted company at Surrat-Thani and I made the final leg of the trip to Krabi then Ko Lanta in a sleepy daze.

After 14 hours, 3 buses, and 2 ferries, I finally arrived at the Coconut Bungalows on Long Beach. Finally the type of Shang-Ri-La living I've been waiting for all trip. I took a nap and was back up in time to sit at the beachfront bar playing pool as the sun set. For about an hour the little drinking and entertainment shelter called the Monkey Bar was filled with the most warm, vivid, and colorful light I have ever seen. I could feel it washing away all the accumulated travel stress and fatigue. As the sun disappeared off the edge of a breathtakingly colorful sky, the tin buckets emerged from behind the edge of the bar, soon to be filled with a balance impairing concoction of ice cubes, Sang-som Thai Rum, Red Bull, and Coca-Cola. Lines formed around the pool table, fresh seafood was taken off ice and thrown on the barbecue, and large, strange smelling cigarettes dangled from the lips of many patrons (apparently containing some local herb of international repute). A group of local Thai guys manned the bar, cooked the crabs, distributed the strange smelling cigarettes, and generally acted as hosts to keep the good times rollin'. Once darkness had completely fallen, two of them lit up their firesticks and put on a hypnotic display of firespinning set to throbbing techno beats. A good time was had by all.

Not all, however, had to wake up at 6:30am to take their Open Water diver certification. I did. Bleary eyed and still processing last night's alcohol, I emerged from my bungalow, ate breakfast, and got picked up by the SP dive shop (you're welcome for the free advertising) pick up truck. Thankfully, I was the first to be picked up and got to sit up front rather than have to suffer Cambodia border crossing flashbacks crashing around in the back. The first day consisted of watching educational videos in the morning and, in the afternoon, practicing some of the skills in confined water (for all you non divers, that's a pool).

Diving was called off the second day due to unseasonably stormy weather so I used the time to watch more videos and study the Recreational Dive Planner. Though my instructor Nik didn't seem to place much importance on the videos or books, I would need to write a final exam before I could get my card.



On the third day, we finally set out into the open ocean. After a couple of hours we arrived at the dive site of Ko Ha. Other more experienced divers went off to explore caves while me and Nik went through some underwater skills such as regulator recovery, mask clearing, equalizing, and emergency ascents. I was worried I would panic but, keeping in mind the fundamental rule of scuba diving, 'never hold your breath', everything went smoothly. Once I had demonstrated my basic skills, I followed Nik through the coral gardens on the ocean floor.

Not more that 12 meters below the surface, lies a completely different world. In five minutes floating next to a reef, you can see more different species of creatures than you would in five hours hiking through a forest. The sheer diversity is mind boggling: schools of fish pulsate and shift like clouds in a strong wind, vibrantly colored clownfish swim among the cloying fingers of sea anenomes, the menacing faces of eels protrude from small fissures among the coral, other divers beckon and point to let you know they've spotted something big like a sea turtle or a pair of octopuses (or is it octopi?). My kingdom for an underwater camera!

The next day we took another boat trip to Ko Bidah where I dove down to 18 meters. After a final check of all the skills I've learned, me and Tolva (another instructor) swam over, around, and occasionally through the coral reefs. I still had an unhealed exhaust pipe burn from one of my rental bikes in Vietnam. Alerted by a sharp pain from my inner calf, I looked down to see a school of bright yellow fish feeding on the wound. I know you're supposed to observe the underwater environment without leaving any impact but these little bastards were being persistent. I kicked one of my fins at them and managed to knock them back but more swam in to take a bite. I'm not sure whether they were deterred by the barrage of flippers I threw at them or they didn't quite like the taste of my leg, but the finally gave up. This was a good example of the way creatures interact in the underwater world. I had expected fish and other marine animals to disperse and avoid me when I swam by. Not so. Everything seemed to just flow together and I was just one more big, strange looking fish. For little fish, it's not the massive fish that cause concern. It's fish that are slightly larger for which little fish would make a filling meal, rather than a tiny morsel, that are the ones to be scared of. For this reason, I often found myself engulfed by puny, but beautiful, little creatures, some staring at me through my goggles in a moment of interspecies fascination.

Besides my $450 Cnd ticket home, my diving class was the most expensive single purchase of the whole trip at about $250 Cnd. It was well worth it. I enjoyed the whole experience, from dozing off watching informational videos to interacting with animals that look like they come from another planet. If you get a chance, do it. I spent the evenings repeating the same routine described above (sunset, seafood, Red Bull, firespinning, etc.) It is with much pain that I will board the bus this afternoon to return to Bangkok.

Firespinning on Long Beach, Koh Lanta: