Eleven days after first getting sick, and four days after my second visit to the doctor, my gut told me it was time for a second opinion. The antibiotics should’ve cleared up my illness within the first few days, and I’d never in my life felt such a lack of energy before. It worried me. For the first time in my trip, I checked the cost of flights home.

I got the name for the second medical clinic off of a tourist map. It was even closer to my hotel than the first one. When I stopped by, I was told the doctor was at the gym, and to come back in an hour. Later, I walked up and was greeted by a shirtless Thai doctor in his bathing suit. I believe it was his child and wife who sat with him on the patio table. He shook my hand, welcomed me by name, and ushered me inside.

I was shown to a room, and the doctor joined me after putting on a 20^th anniversary Reggae Pub t-shirt. I knew the place as it was across from Chaweng Beach on Koh Samui. The doctor leaned back in his chair, exuding confidence I desperately needed to feel by that point. His English was far better than the first doctor, and as I described my experience over the past two weeks, I began to feel better.

The second opinion was the infection was viral versus bacterial, which explains why the antibiotics weren’t helping me. He said my throat looked fine (though in retrospect, perhaps it is possible that the medicine had already cleared up the problem by then if it really had been bacterial). He noted my blood pressure was abnormally low – not a problem I’ve had before. His suggested treatment was a shot of Cortisone (an anti-inflammatory) in the butt, along with a few days of anti-inflammatory pills and electrolyte powders for use with water.

I was not keen to accept an injection, but I was so tired of being tired, I yielded. To my surprise, a few hours later, I felt more energetic as he advised I would. The next day, I continued to feel the same way, so I booked a half-day speed boat trip to some nearby islands. If it went well, the plan was to head straight for the much smaller, idyllic Koh Phi Phi Don.

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After taking the antibiotics given to me by the pharmacist for a few days, my fever had dissipated, and my headache improved, however I still felt tired and unwell. I decided to kick up my care a notch by visiting a local medical clinic. I got a referral from the reception at a big hotel, The Holiday Inn.

The doctor didn’t speak much English, but we seemed to manage an exchange of the essential information. He, like me, figured the antibiotics from the pharmacy weren’t working, so he gave me a 5-day course of Amoxicillin. The diagnosis was a throat infection after a quick peer down my gullet with a big, yellow plastic flashlight and metal tongue depressor. The visit ran me about $18, with the drugs another $30 or so.

I began taking the new antibiotics, and my headache cleared up completely, though I was still left with an overwhelming sense of exhaustion. Aside from meals, water/snack runs to 7-11, and a check of the internet, I spent my days in bed watching TV, reading or sleeping.

Five days passed, and I still felt stuck in a vicious cycle of sleep and exhaustion. I returned to the same doctor complaining of my lack of energy. He said my throat looked better, but had not completely improved yet. He gave me five more days of Amoxicillin, along with some vitamins and pills the pharmacy marked as “energy.”

By now, I was too tired to even wait around in a restaurant for food. I’d begun to get sandwiches from a local deli and Starbucks and bring them back to my room for consumption. One day I fell asleep at 3pm and didn’t wake up until 8am the next morning. I’m no doctor, but 17 hours of sleep, and still waking up tired isn’t normal.

I watched a nauseating amount of Fox News, developing a crush on spunky anchor Megyn Kelly. The movie channel offered needed respites with Failure to Launch, The Beach, Gladiator, and The Road to Guantanamo.

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I decided to go out for a beer or two on my second night in Patong. Banana’s Tacos was situated on a street right across from Bangla Road, giving me instant access to the epicenter of nightlife on the island.

I walked up the road and along the strip across from the beach, eventually returning to an Irish pub on Bangla Road for a proper pint of Guinness on tap. I was enticed by the live band playing an Irish tune, but after I got my drink, they went straight to cover songs like “Hotel California” and sadly, I felt the need to finish my precious draft beer quickly and get out of there.

I bought a Singha at a bar across the street from one of the many sections of go-go bars which were starting to attract crowds as midnight approached. It was a great spot from which to people watch.

Bangla Road is closed to traffic after 6pm, and like everywhere else in Thailand, you can walk around with a beer in public (a nice freedom that is fun to appreciate from time to time). After taking in the scene for a few songs on the bar stereo, I ordered another beer and started to walk again. I felt unwell all of a sudden, so I chucked the half-empty beer at a 7-11, bought some water, and went back to my room.

I managed to develop a mild fever and a moderate headache that night. Knowing a fever is a potential indicator of Malaria, I sought some help the next morning by talking to the hotel staff. One woman in particular, suggested I start with a specific pharmacy. I went there and was given antibiotics for a suspected infection.

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After two nights in Phuket Town, I relocated to Patong Beach. I picked a Mexican run guest house, Banana’s Tacos, for my base camp. The plan was to spend a few nights in the thick of the Phuket tourist scene before heading to quieter Kata (surf) beach, and then Koh Phi Phi Don.

I wasn’t interested in hanging out at the beach, or going crazy in the discos at night. Instead, I focused my energy on eating great food at the many restaurants. I had a great sushi lunch at a Japanese restaurant in the Jungceylon mall.

The mall also contained a small gun range. I’d first seen a gun range in a mall at Surfer’s Paradise in Australia, however the costs were too high (starting at around $100).

Thailand, of course, is far cheaper. I really do not like guns, however my trip is all about new experiences so I paid about $30 to fire ten 9mm rounds from a Beretta. I was extremely nervous and tried to be overcautious handling the weapon. The instructor was quite good, showing me how to hold the gun. I thought the recoil would knock me backwards but it wasn’t so strong.

The little shells popped out of the chamber after each shot. I wondered if I should have been wearing close-toed shoes. After a few pulls of the trigger, my hands began to sweat. I almost didn’t want to continue…but being the trooper that I am, finished off the clip and scored a 68% on the target.

The photo of the shotgun was just the instructor’s idea of fun.

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Phuket, Thailand’s biggest island, was my best hope for finding a deal on a new digital camera and acquiring an AC adapter for my laptop. I scoured Phuket Town’s main road and found one Canon 860 IXUS for sale in a Kodak shop. The price was ridiculous - about $60 more than what I saw it for in little Rangon. I brought this to the manager’s attention and he immediately agreed to the lower price (about $390). I had a hard time with this figure as it was $90 higher than what I paid just 3 months earlier in Kathmandu, Nepal (and $140 more than I could get it for via the internet). I decided to see if Patong, Phuket’s most touristy beach, could help save me a few bucks.

I took the public bus to Patong some time before 10am. I got off at the big, modern mall Jungceylon, adjacent to infamous Bangla Road. I found my camera model in several stores for the Rangon price, however none of the salespeople had the power to negotiate so I decided to try my luck with the independent Kodak shop back in the capital.

I walked down Bangla Road toward the beach. Bars and discos lined the way. Hundreds of stools stood empty, waiting for the sun to go down, the neon to light up, and the throngs of package tourists, couples, old white men, go-go dancers, ladyboys, and prostitutes to arrive.

For some reason, I started to take photos of the bars. It was a painful scene. Bangla Road is not pretty in the least by day. I felt hungover just looking around.

It was high tide so there was little of the beach to walk along. Surfers were out, but the current was too strong for swimming.

I caught the bus back to Phuket Town, and after following a series of leads regarding the best place to find a laptop adapter, finally came across an ASUS service center.  They could order the adapter but it’d take 5 days to reach me and cost $10-20 more than I might be able to get it for in Bangkok.  I didn’t want to be constricted to Phuket for 5 days, so I decided to go another month without the use of my little eeePC.

I did suck it up and buy my third digital camera by day’s end though.  I only got a few dollars knocked off the going rate by just taking the camera and CDROM (not the battery, charger, etc.), but the saleswoman threw in a 1gb memory card.

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The On On Hotel is Phuket Town’s oldest.  Staying there, I felt like I could’ve been Richard.  It was uncanny, and silly to be making such comparisons with a work of fiction.

My room had a broken window, and you could see the light of the lobby through the floorboards which creaked noisily.  I thought it added character.

The hallways without windows looked dark, though there were no women washing the floors while sparks flew from a light outlet.

I’m glad I stayed at the hotel for a few nights.  It was a nice change from bungalows, however no one named after a cartoon character left me a map to a secret island before slitting his wrists.  Luckily, it’s no mystery how to find the beach (Maya Bay) these days.

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Awoke at 7:30am, got on the back of a scooter at 8am, in the pouring rain, and sped off toward the pier. The ride was even scarier than the day before - wet concrete, sand, mud, leaves. I tipped the guy $1 on top of the $2 charge for an even $3. Happy to be alive.

I hopped right on the ferry and we took off. The rain let up after awhile and the side tarps were rolled up. The 360 degree views were beautiful, with clouds rolling off the jungle-covered hills and islands. The water looked green and wasn’t too rough given the weather.

I spoke to a Canadian girl - she’d come to Thailand at 15 with her family on vacation, met a local guy in the north, got pregnant, and has been here the past 3 years. I couldn’t imagine the reaction of the parents. The girl just moved to Koh Phayam where they’re living with her sister in a bungalow for $120 per month. She’s planning to marry the father.

I was able to get a nice bus to Phuket within 30 minutes of being dropped off at the bus terminal. The ride was longer than I expected - about 5 hours. We got into Phuket Town (capital of the island/province) with some daylight left though. I was beat. I decided to stay in the On On Hotel which was where the Bangkok hotel scenes were shot from “The Beach.” I figured why not!?

My mission the following day was to see if I could buy a new camera and AC adapter for my laptop.

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The ferry ride from Rangon to Koh Phayam was very scenic. Clouds hung so low it felt like you could reach up and grab them. There were two European couples on the boat, and me. Everyone else was Thai, including the guy next to me who worked on the island helping sea gypsies.

The Lonely Planet dedicates about two pages to Koh Phayam (not much), but it does mention there are no cars - only motorbike taxis and a little “highway” that runs across the island. I was hoping the taxis would have a little side cart for me to sit in but no such luck.

Thankfully, Dan’s dare had given me some experience on the back of a motorbike, however riding around on the smooth asphalt of Bangkok felt far safer than holding on to a petite Thai girl who doesn’t speak English as she drives over crumbling concrete, sand, and puddles. It reminded me why it’s not a good idea to take up scooter-riding on the islands. Before I left Koh Phangan, I saw an older woman with road rash from her right shoulder to her right ankle. It looked horrifically painful.

The scooter ride through the quiet, undeveloped interior of Koh Phayam had me feeling a little bit of adrenaline, and a lot of anticipation about the beach I was about to arrive at. Bamboo Bungalows had a great write-up in the guidebook, so given it was the low season, if backpackers were to be found, it’d be there.

I arrived to find the place almost empty. Most of the restaurant’s tables and chairs were piled up in a corner, reflecting little business this time of year. I had my pick of bungalows, so I took the one with the best beach view. Unfortunately, due to higher winds, they put up a fabric fence to block blowing sand from the beach. Still, I could hear the thundering waves just perfectly. They were LOUD.

My bungalow was as rustic as they come. The spaces between the floorboards were clearly big enough for large cockroaches to invade the room, yet the reality of such an experience didn’t occur to me. I was too excited. I enjoyed a post-arrival Singha with my feet up.

And then it sunk in that I was alone. Too alone. There was an older Aussie expat staying next to me. He was helping two Thai sisters who were friends of his (Thai) wife to find bungalows to rent out on the island.

I arrived at low tide so I explored the 3 kilometer beach in both directions. There wasn’t much. Most of the bungalow operations were closed for the low season. No 7-11’s. No boardwalks. No go-go bars. In fact, there was only 4 hours of power at my bungalow per day (6:30pm-10:30pm).

After my walk on the beach, I got some dinner with the Aussie guy and Thai sisters. The guy had been living in Thailand the past 20+ years or so, and would take breaks from talking Thai to keep me somewhat entertained with his perspectives on the development of Thailand over the last 30 years. He also clued me into the fact that the business owners on Koh Phayam were cutthroat, and apparently the undercurrents of life on the island were akin to a soap opera, complete with violence, drugs, intimidation, gossip, etc. Funny how ignorant tourists can be to such things. There was even a yellow drug boat that encircled the island, from which you could buy anything you wanted. There were police, but they were being paid off so the tourists that wanted to get high in paradise were free to do so.

Inebriated tourists on scooters and large snakes were reason enough to stay at one’s bungalow once the sun went down. Not that there was anywhere else to go!

_____________________

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My taxi driver picked me up in the morning and took me to the pier from which I’d take a longboat to Burma (aka Myanmar).  When we stepped out on the pier around 8am, I got my exit stamp at the Thai immigration window, and then negotiated the cost of a longboat to Burma and back.  The more the driver and boatman tried to rush me, the more power I realized I had to negotiate.  I’d seen a couple of white girls on the way over, complete with color-coded stickers on their shirts (from the travel agent that arranged their Visa runs), so I knew there had to be a cheaper way to cross the border than chartering my own boat.

After cutting the price down by 30% (or $5), I boarded my first traditional longboat for the 30-minute ride to Burma.  The views were beautiful.  As we approached the Burmese side, golden pagoda’s came in to view along various hilltops.  I suddenly found myself wanting to explore the country, despite having previously written it off due to the recent cyclone catastrophe.  I then realized my plan to spend 2-3 months in Thailand meant I’d already accounted for my two exit/re-entries within a 6-month period.  I could go to Burma, but it would mean I couldn’t leave Asia via Bangkok (which I hope will bring me the cheapest airfare possible).

I was in Burma for just a few minutes, and it was back on the boat to Rangon.  Thai immigration updated my passport, allowing me free reign in the country for another 30 days.  My driver brought me back to my hotel where I picked up my backpack and went to the nearby pier for the ferry to Koh Phayam.  Murphy’s Law struck in the form of low tide.  Of course there was a motorbike taxi cruising around picking up people like me who were at the wrong pier.  I tried to negotiate the rate but failed.  Several Thais also joined me in the little side carriage, and after we were delivered to the right place, I was happy to see we all paid the same price (not what you’d see in India).

The time had come to see if Koh Phayam was really just “a bunch of bamboo bungalows on the beach” like the expat on Koh Phangan told me.

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PS - Should I claim credit on travel maps for having visited Burma simply for the purpose of renewing my Thai Visa?  And for that matter, Malaysia which I only visited for a few hours while staying in Singapore?  Leave a comment and let me know!

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I was the last of our Dutch/German/American/English posse to leave Thong Nai Pan Noi. My first month in Thailand was running out and it was time to launch a Visa run via the Burmese border. The adventure began with a nearly missed boat ride from Koh Phangan to Surat Thani on the mainland. I had to wake up my taxi driver at sunrise. Thankfully she sleeps right in the back of the her restaurant. The boat ride was bittersweet, though I was excited to be heading toward the islands of The Andaman Sea.

Once off the boat, we were all shuffled onto a big bus for the hour’s ride to Surat Thani. Everyone was then placed in the back of a pick-up and brought to their respective tour operator. If I haven’t mentioned it before, this whole process is made easy by color-coded stickers all the tourists are given before departure on the ferries.

Once at the travel office, a staging ground/restaurant with a Samsung LCD screening a Brangelina movie, it was a matter of waiting my turn. Half the crowd left for Phuket, and the other half left for Koh Phi Phi Don. Apparently I was the only one headed to the wonderful border town of Ranong.

The bus dropped me off and I took off with a local “taxi” driver. I went with the flow, taking a room at a resort he recommended, which was geared completely around people spending one night in Rangon to arrange for a new Visa. After settling into my room, I walked through a local market, got a bite to eat, a quick haircut while a Burmese guy flirted with me incessantly, my first taste of Thai whiskey mixed with pink Tang from some friendly locals who offered to take me out on the town for a few hours (they were drunk, I declined), and a few solid hours of cheap internet time before crashing.

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