At
anchor off an island near Phuket, Thailand
The
King of Thailand (formerly known as Siam) is the longest reigning
monarch in the world. His subjects adore him and photographs of him
hang in prominent positions in every home and most privately-owned
businesses. True to Eastern custom, the majority of the population
work from home with their shops sited on street fronts and their living
areas either above or behind them. Often as many as four generations
reside under the same roof.
Phuket
is a tropical resort island of world renown and few places on earth
can compare with it. It is indescribably beautiful, tranquil and clean.
The coastline is studded with fine sandy beaches and quiet coves,
framed by lush tropical greenery, wooded hills and rubber plantations.
There are residential marinas with full resort facilities, which cater
for everything a yachtie could wish for - fresh water, chandleries,
fuel, restaurants, bars, supermarkets, shops, sports centres and fax
and mail services.
The surrounding
Andaman Sea boasts some of the finest sailing waters in the world,
with
hundreds of pristine offshore islands, many of which are uninhabited.
The beaches are stunning, no anchorage fees are charged and as the
area abounds with magnificent coral reefs, snorkeling and scuba diving
are popular activities. Each morning the Commodore of the Boat Lagoon,
Phil Hollywood, reads a weather report which seldom varies. "15k
North Easterly and wall-to-wall blue over the entire Island of Phuket".
Ao Chalong
is a massive natural harbour, and an extremely comfortable anchorage
during the SW Monsoon. However, many yachts prefer to move to the
leeward side of the island when the Monsoon swings NE. We lowered
the dinghy into the water and Bob cleaned and scrubbed it while I
hosed the decks and tidied above. Then he got onto the VHF for advice
on how to handle entry formalities.
Immediately
after breakfast the following morning we set off to clear customs
and immigration. Bob and I tarted up in our best bib and tucker -
navy tailored shorts, navy sneakers and white cotton shirts with our
"Seerose" emblem on the pockets. I gave Fred a huge breakfast
and said my goodbyes, as I was certain he'd take off while we were
ashore. Ern appeared in the cockpit wearing tyre-soled sandals, filthy
baggies, and a stained T shirt with the sleeves ripped out. Bob suggested
that he might want to dress more appropriately as a mark of respect
to the officials. He grudgingly complied.
We set
off in the direction of a small beach immediately in front of Jimmy's
Lighthouse Restaurant and were disappointed to note that the beach
was littered with soiled rags, oil, newspaper and other garbage. Obviously
some yachties were using it as a "workshop".
Taking
a short cut up to the main road, we by-passed a row of small houses
with tiny gardens in the front. People called out and waved to us,
then lifted their hands to their faces in a prayer-like gesture, with
their eyes downcast. We wondered what this symbolized and I made a
mental note to find a bookshop where we could buy some literature
on the history and culture of the country.
When
the bus arrived there was standing room only. Most of the passengers
were housewives with shopping baskets, obviously on their way to morning
market. We felt as though we were on stage as they studied us with
unabashed curiosity for the duration of the journey. They smiled at
us and we smiled back and I warmed to these tiny, dainty people. Coming
from Africa it was refreshing to find that there was no smell of body
odour on the bus. The Thais are scrupulous about their personal hygiene
and whenever we did catch a whiff of "B.O". there was always
a sweaty Westerner hanging around!
We experienced
a twinge of nostalgia to be back in the hurly burly of an Eastern
traffic nightmare. Everyone made their own arrangements, but unlike
African drivers, most motorists politely gave way when some idiot
took it upon himself to cut across four lanes in the midst of the
rush hour traffic. We never heard insults hurled, nor did we see any
vulgar finger signs.
Motorbikes
were everywhere carrying as many as five passengers at a time - black
smoke belching from their dirty exhausts. The smallest child sat in
front of Papa, the baby was strapped to Mama's chest, and the oldest
perched importantly behind her. Many bikes had sidecars carrying Grandma,
shopping bags and anything else that couldn't fit onto the bike. "Mobile"
restaurants - a motorbike with a cooker constructed over the sidecar
and covered with a canopy - weaved their way through the traffic,
bearing pots that were actually on the boil! Hooters were toys, and
each had it's individual signature, so a cacophony of tunes played
by whistles, bells and heaven knows what else added to the melee.
It was like being caught up in a Mad Hatter's parade!
We reached
the market where both the bus terminus and taxi rank were situated
and hired a tuk-tuk (taxi) to take us to Customs, Immigration and
the Port Captain. Wherever we went the officials were polite, courteous
and helpful and stunningly smart in their various uniforms. Local
custom requires people to remove their shoes before entering a building,
be it a shop, a business or someone's home. I chuckled when I noticed
the rows of shoes lined up outside the shop doors and whispered to
Bob that if this were Africa they'd have disappeared in no time. He
gave me 'the look' so I didn't comment on the multitude of motorcycles
angle-parked and left unattended at the sidewalks, with keys in the
ignitions and helmets, gloves, goggles and parcels hanging from the
handlebars!
Once
we'd completed formalities we asked Voed, our gregarious tuk-tuk driver,
to drop us off at the Phuket Town shopping centre where I bought two
books - one which gave us the historical background to the country
and the other entitled "Thai for Travellers" by Suraphong
Kanchananaga, which proved to be exactly what I needed to aquaint
myself with the language, as very little English was spoken on the
Island at the time.
The most
pleasant surprise of the day was to find Fred sitting in the cockpit,
on our return to the boat as we were certain he'd have taken off.
Three
days later Ern left and we were relieved to see the back of him. We'd
been forced to spend two days sitting ashore with him at Jimmy's Restaurant
while he made reverse-charge calls to every member of his family in
an effort to persuade one of them to lend him the money for his airfare
home, but no one appeared to be willing to assist him. Then in desperation
he asked Bob for the money, which was refused. "Well in that
case I'll just have to stay with the yacht". "Well then
stay with the yacht", My heart sank. Then he played his trump
by threatening to get himself deported! "Oh no you won't",
said Bob. "I brought you into this country, I'm responsible for
your conduct while you're here and I'll ensure that you respect it's
regulations. Hopefully in future you'll discuss your problems and
consider the options before you throw your toys out the cot. After
that, Bob never let him out of sight and we sat playing watch dog
until he finally managed to coerce his sister into having his airfare
debited to her credit card.
Bob estimated
his cash requirements for the journey home, then gave him sufficient
money for a taxi to the airport and a generous amount for food during
his ten hour stopover in Bangkok. His sister had agreed to collect
him from the airport in Johannesburg but Bob took the precaution of
adding sufficient to cover transport to Durban as well,in case there
was a hitch.
Next
morning we took him ashore and waited with him at Jimmy's for his
taxi to arrive. As he was leaving he handed Bob a thick foolscap envelope.
"Does this contain something you lacked the courage to tell me
personally?" Bob asked. He averted his eyes and shrugged so Bob
tore it up and dropped it on the floor. Then, without so much as a
"goodbye", he climbed into the taxi. As it rounded the corner,
I picked up the envelope and stuffed it into my bag.
The money
Bob had given him was folded inside a lengthy letter, and as everything
was in shreds, I needed to repair it all with sellotape before I could
read the letter.
Apparently his reason for sulking was because we hadn't paid him to
crew! We'd transported him halfway across the world, provided him
with free board and lodging, paid all his immigration and emigration
costs, entertainment, refreshments and side trips ashore and he still
expected us to reimburse him for the questionable privilege of having
done so! He'd failed all his Academy exams so he had no certified
sailing qualifications, and as it was his ambition to make sailing
his career, his only hope of achieving this was by logging up sufficient
nautical miles to qualify by experience. We in fact felt that we'd
been overgenerous by taking him along at our expense. In our country
only fully qualified skippers who are commissioned to take command
of a vessel are reimbursed for their services, but they have to cover
all their own expenses, both ashore and on the yacht. Every yachtie
we've met would have required him to provide all his own food (both
on board and ashore), contribute towards the onboard expenses, and
meet his own immigration and emigration costs.
Now we
understood why he'd snaffled the boat money in Dar Es Salaam - he
obviously thought we owed it to him! He was fully aware that the Department
of Foreign Exchange withheld permission for us to take the yacht out
of the country until we'd signed affidavits to the effect that we
wouldn't use our credit cards offshore. Consequently, the little forex
they allowed us needed to last us until the following January, so
we also needed to keep sufficient cash in hand to purchase air tickets
back to South Africa, fetch that allowance!
The letter
also referred to the way Bob "made a fool of him by shouting
at him in front of other yachties during anchor drill". This
was absolute gibberish to me so I asked Bob. if it made any sense
to him. "He's accusing me of 'shouting AT him' in front of other
yachties whenever we dropped or lifted the anchor. I in fact wasn't
shouting AT him I was shouting TO him because if I hadn't it would
have been impossible for him to hear what I was saying above the noise
of the engine with him right up at the peak". All I could think
was that he obviously had very low self esteem. Anyway, it was a relief
to be rid of him and the only time I ever missed him was when we had
to drag the dinghy up the beach with the heavy 15hp motor on the back
of it.
We noticed
that some of the yachties tied up on a pier in front of a large green
building, and having followed suit, were informed that the pier was
the property of the Boating Association and for the exclusive use
of members, but that we were welcome to make use of it if we joined
the club. The membership fees were reasonable enough and we' welcomed
an opportunity to meet other people, so we promised to pop into the
club to pay our dues that evening.
We bussed
it to the tuk-tuk terminus and climbed into the front taxi. Bob told
the driver to take us to an electrical dealer as he needed to buy
an inverter. I decided to remain in the vehicle with my book as it
was very hot. The driver's face appeared at my window and it was obvious
he wanted to chat. He was a friendly character with a tremendous sense
of humour and it didn't take long to realise that he was also a nosy
parker. He fired question after question at me and during the interrogation,
asked what country we came from. Thereafter, he always referred to
Bob as "That bad man from South Africa".
Being
a chain smoker, he experienced frequent fits of coughing, and during
one of these sessions a disgusting object flew from his mouth and
landed on the pavement. My stomach heaved and I slid to the other
side of the vehicle where I hung my head out the window. Quick as
a wink he was around the back of the vehicle, chatting away as though
nothing had happened. "You like Cherman?" Obviously no reply
was expected as he continued without pause. "I like Cherman he
very,good. You know, one time I get Cherman, he take me to bar - he
buy him beer, he buy me beer. He buy him food, he buy me food. He
buy him vooman, he buy me vooman. You know, vooman? Vooman for f--king!"
I couldn't believe my ears! I leapt from the vehicle, ran to the chandlery
and stood inside the doorway 'sugnalling to Bob, trying to attract
his attention.
One look
at my face and he came straight over. "Are you alright?".
"No, you won't believe what that animal just said to me?"
When I told him he roared with laughter. "Do you think its funny?"
"Of course not but don't upset yourself. That's Westerner's language
and he probably doesn't realise how offensive it is". "O.K,
but what about that story he told me, he should know that's offensive!"
"Maybe not, their culture is very different to ours". "Well
if that's the case please don't use his taxi again and don't ever
leave me alone with him".
That
proved to be easier said than done, as Voed actually stalked us. No
matter where we were on the island he somehow managed to find us and
he always made a fuss if we used a bus or any other means of transport.
Despite his coarse habits we eventually grew attached to him and fell
into the habit of going directly to his usual parking place at the
bus rank. If he wasn't there we'd have a cup of tea and hang around
until he arrived. However, on one occasion we were forced to use another
tuk-tuk as we were late for an appointment.
Whilst travelling along we heard incessant hooting and turning around,
saw him weaving through the traffic, driving like a lunatic and making
his way in our direction, whilst holding his hand down on the hooter.
When he drew level with us he closed in until our vehicles were almost
touching, then shook his fist at us and shouted "What you do
in there? You come out, you come out! You are mine! You are mine!"
Our fool of a driver decided this was fun, so he put his foot flat
on the accelerator and took off. Voed followed suit and within seconds
we were tearing along, neck and neck, while the pair of them shook
their fists and hurled verbal abuse at each other. Neither of them
were concentrating on their driving and unfortunately other drivers
were giving way to let them through. Some of the vehicles joined in
the fray, and holding their hands down on their hooters, laughed and
waved at us goading us on as we tore crazily past.
We approached
a bridge and as neither of the maniacs were watching the road our
vehicle began to slide off the shoulder. We screamed at our driver
and I pummeled him on the back and, just as we were about to plummet
over the edge, he managed to skid to a halt on the gravel. Voed skidded
up beside us and it was obvious he was very angry. He drew a thick
wad of money from his pocket and waving the notes at us screamed "Look!
Look! No want money, no want money. You are mine, you are mine".
I don't think we shall ever fully understand his erratic behaviour
but we could tell that he was very angry and believe he was trying
to tell us that money wasn't the issue. We were his friends and he
felt that we'd betrayed him. After this incident he disappeared from
our lives and, strangely enough, we felt disturbed and guilty and
actually missed him.
Back
at Chalong we went up to the Boating Association to pay our club fees.
The "top brass" had just emerged from a committee meeting
so we had the opportunity to meet them all. Apparently we'd found
another league of nations; Bob the chairman was Canadian, Peter was
English, Jerry was Dutch, Heinz was German and Bruce was Australian.
They told us we were their first South African members, and gave us
a warm welcome. We were also introduced to their Thai lady companions.
Later
that evening when we returned to the yacht we were sad to find that
Fred had finally taken off. He'd stayed with us for five days after
reaching Ao Chalong and although we knew he belonged with his own,
we felt guilty as we'd been out all day and he may have left because
he was hungry. On subsequent drives through the countryside we gazed
at every cattle egret on the back of every buffalo we saw and wondered
whether one of them was Fred. We were grateful for the extraordinary
experience we'd shared with him. We'd saved his life and he'd enriched
ours. We won't forget him!
On
15 November we set sail Northwards to explore Phang Nga Bay, considered
to be one of the most spectacular areas in Thailand. It was declared
a marine national park by the Thai Government in 1981 and thus far
has remained unspoilt. Erosion caused by geographical upheavals has
created a gallery of gigantic limestone sculptures set in shallow
green waters. Fluctuating sea levels of up to 150 meters and advancing
and retreating polar ice-
caps
have undercut the cliffs, creating sea caves. Some of them are below
the water and others are high above the sea. Rainwater seepage into
cracks and crevices has created sinkholes and cave systems, most of
which have allegedly never been explored. So-called "hongs"
(the Thai word for rooms) are to be found inside some of the islands.
These are collapsed cave systems which contain exotic flora and fauna.
Apparently they were first discovered from the air and are only accessible
through sea caves by canoe or dinghy.
We
were forced to motor sail as there wasn't a breath of wind and as
we gazed at the magnificent limestone casts, we imagined God with
his phenomenal sense of humour, sitting up in heaven chuckling to
himself as one by one he dropped the phallic-shaped casts into the
sea surrounding the Island of love.
We anchored
at Ko Yao Yai at sundown and I fetched two bitterly cold beers from
the fridge. There were no flapping sails, no jumping fish, not even
a bird call. It was as though we were the only life on earth sitting
quietly side by side in a dramatic sunset.
The following
morning we headed in the direction of Laem Nang, which was an area
of topical interest as the yacht "Blown Away" had recently
'blown ashore' there. Naturally the incident gave rise to a spate
of witty, entertaining comment from the wise guys on the net. The
story went that the skipper had dropped anchor sloppily and rushed
ashore to a bar. During the evening several people repeatedly warned
him that a squall was approaching and they believed his yacht required
attention. These warnings were apparently ignored and consequently
the yacht was washed ashore. From that day on he was referred to only
as "John Blown Away". In no time word of the incident spread
and some of the lady yachties got together to make plans on how to
raise funds to restore his yacht. They organised a raffle, then approached
the Thai business community and coerced them into donating prizes.
The hull
was damaged so some of the local Thais assisted him in patching it
temporarily and towing it back into the water with a borrowed tractor.
Then somehow it was transported back to Ao Chalong where it was hauled
out and placed on hardstand beside Jimmy's restaurant.
The lady
yachties organised a gala function where John "Blownaway"
was presented with the proceeds of the raffle funds and subsequently,
the profits from the catering, yet despite all this assistance he
made no attempt to repair his yacht and spent his days and nights
ashore,getting "blown away" on alcohol (and who knows what
else). Two years later Jimmy finally lost patience with the ugly,
rotting yacht standing outside his restaurant and at his own expense,
had it refloated, towed into the bay and left at anchor.
Our raffle
ticket won us a four-night stay at the new Dusit Rayavadee Deluxe
resort at Krabi, for it's gala opening celebrations. Unfortunately
we were unable to utilize our prize as it would have meant leaving
'Seerose' unattended. However, as we'd heard that the resort was situated
in a stunning area, we decided to sail up there and have a look at
it. On approaching land, we were awestruck by the spectacular beauty
of the headlands, rock stacks, rock walls and palm fringed beaches.
Ao
Phra Nang is sealed off from all road access by mountains, thus making
it a unique and fairly inacessable area. There are two recommended
anchorages, Phra Nang North and Phra Nang South, and we dropped anchor
at the latter. Moving at snails pace to ensure that we didn't damage
the coral reefs with the long shaft, we went out exploring in the
dinghy. Later we beached at Re Lai and visited a cave which contained
a shrine dedicated to an ancient princess, at the southern end of
the beach.
As the
season proper hadn't started there were few tourists around. We strolled
along the 
beach
and discovered another cave housing a restaurant and bar. The decorators
had cleverly retained it's natural ambience by furnishing it with
rough-hewn wooden tables, rustic log-benches and a bar counter constructed
from local stone. Squeaky clean white beach sand was it's 'carpet'.
We were the only patrons, which didn't surprise us, as the cokes we
ordered almost broke the bank. However, the barman rewarded us with
a huge smile, possibly because this was likely to be his only sale
of the day. We grew to love this little restaurant and visited it
frequently (when the prices had dropped to a realistic level). Sadly,
the last time we were there in January 2000 we were turned away, as
it's now reserved for resort guests only.
We
walked along a wooded foot trail behind the beach, exploring the rocky
overhangs and outcrops. There were hundreds of monkey ropes and timid,
monkeys scrambled up them as we approached, curiously peeping at us
through the branches. Due to the criminal ignorance of the tourists
who feed these little creatures with sweets, buns, ice cream and other
rubbish, many are now as bold as brass and have become a complete
and utter menace. They hang around the ablution blocks snatching junk-food
from children and display threatening behaviour to anyone who refuses
to feed them. It's a shame there's still so much ignorance about wildlife,
particularly in first world countries where some people, many of whom
are grossly overweight due to the junk they consume, still think it's
the "in thing" to keep wild animals as pets. . Wild animals
should be left in their own environment where God put them and left
to forage for the food he gave them. Caging them and feeding them
the junk some of us eat is tantamount to murder!
From
the yacht, we studied the limestone sculptures through binoculars,
then took to the dinghy to observe them more closely. There were swallow's
nests on many of the overhangs and over the years we frequently observed
the Thais climbing the walls of these casts to collect the nests for
export to Pacific rim countries. It was easy to understand why Bird's
Nest Soup is such a costly delicacy; no one could possibly survive
a fall from those heights.
On 19 November we left Laem Nang to explore the massive bay of Ao
Nang. Keeping fairly close to shore we sailed round the bay and as
there were no other yachts in sight, we presumed that it wasn't a
popular stop-off for yachties. However, the situation has changed,
as many yachts now call there. Using binoculars, we observed what
appeared to be houses nestling in the bush lining the beach, so we
dropped anchor and went ashore in the hopes of meeting some rural
folk. It was quite a mission to drag the dinghy up the inclined beach
with the 15hp motor on the back but we managed by "zigzagging"
it sideways and upwards. The 'houses' turned out to be open air restaurants
constructed from grass matting, with thatched roofs and half-walls.
Two short flights of rickety wooden steps led from the beach up to
each restaurant and a narrow walkway separated the restaurants from
the shops behind them. We wandered along the walkway, studying the
menus nailed to the creosoted poles supporting the roofs. It
was mid afternoon and we were the only patrons.
Bob loves
Thai food but as I'm not partial to spices I was hoping to find a
restaurant that served vegetable soup. None of the locals appeared
to speak English so we were basically ignored, until we arrived at
the "Seahouse" restaurant, where a stunning young woman
greeted us in excellent English and before we could say "Jack
Robinson", she had us seated us at a table, menus in our hands.
She told us her name was Nim and, pointing to a man who was creating
a decorative display of freshly caught fish on a bed of crushed ice
at the entrance, informed us that he was her husband, Cha.
"What
you eat, Mama?" she enquired. "Kaeng-chued, Looksow, kha"
(vegetable soup, daughter). She threw her head back and laughed and
a bond of friendship which endured for five years was cemented between
us. Cha came over to take a drinks order and Bob asked for two beers.
"Papa want condom?" he asked. Bob blinked, his face expressionless.
I leant forward with the pretence of adjusting my sandal, embarrassed
by the fact that he obviously thought I was a tart. He popped back
to the bar, then returned to the table with two beers encased in polystyrene
cooler-holders. Tapping one of them he said, "Here Papa, ...
this condom". (We've dined out on that one a million times!).
We subsequently
learnt that due to their limited English vocabulary at that time,
Thais were unfamiliar with the word 'cooler'. When the Thai government
launched it's aggressive Aids awareness campaign (thus introducing
the word 'condom' to their vocabulary) the bar girls decided it was
an appropriate word to use for the beer coolers. The name has stuck
and most people still use it. We were impressed to learn that for
the duration of the Aids Awareness Campaign, the King had commissioned
that condoms and pamphlets be distributed throughout the country at
the crown's expense. These were placed in bowls on the vanity shelves
of every toilet, in every restaurant and bar throughout Thailand.
Nim's
sister Oon served at the tables and one evening I admired the smart
pair of light cotton Thai trousers she was wearing. I enquired where
she'd bought them and she told me she'd made them herself. The following
day she presented me with an identical pair. It transpired that after
the restaurant had closed the previous night, she'd sat up and made
them for me. This during the season, when everyone was exhausted from
working day and night to accumulate sufficient money to support themselves
until the start of the next season! Nothing I said would persuade
her to accept payment for them, so I reciprocated by giving her a
pair of my earrings that she'd admired.
During
our ten day stay at Ao Nang we had the pleasure of meeting every member
of Nim's family except her brother who lives in Bangkok where he owns
a clothing factory. Nim excitedly announced that the "Dragon
Boat", which heralds the official start of the season, was coming
the following night and that her parents would be attending and bringing
along all the grandchildren, who were spending the holidays with them.
Nim's Mama was a typical Eastern lady - gracious, gentle, tiny and
essentially feminine. She wore an outfit of red and gold brocade with
a slim full-length skirt and a short tailored jacket. A soft cream
blouse of pure silk finished it off. Papa, who was very tall for a
Thai, was stunningly handsome and gregarious. They are as delightful
as their daughter and we make a point of seeing them whenever we're
in Thailand.
Nim and
Cha had never been on a yacht, so one day Bob fetched them from the
beach during the heat of the day when most of their potential customers
were having a siesta. When we bought 'Seerose' there was a bad painting
of the yacht hanging in the saloon, and we'd stowed it away in one
of the lockers. They admired it so we gave it to them. Years later
Cha built a bar and named it 'The Seerose Beach Bar", after our
yacht and the painting of Seerose occupied pride of place on the it's
most prominent wall.
For a
while we were the only yacht at Ao Nang and then one morning we awoke
to find another yacht anchored behind us. We hadn't been ashore the
previous evening and our dinghy had no sooner hit the beach at sundown
when Nim came running down to the water's edge to meet us. We could
see she was exploding with news. "Mama, Mama, there was very
bad fight on beach last night. Another 'falang' want to drown his
wife in sea. I take her inside my house to hide. Her husband go back
to his yacht and she still sleeping in my room. She come from that
yacht behind Papa's yacht." Everyone on the beach was looking
in our direction, so I hoped they didn't think it was us who'd been
fighting on the beach!
The following
day a Swedish yacht arrived shortly after the offending yacht had
left. The fight on the beach was still the main topic of discussion
ashore, and mentioning the name of a yacht, the Swede enquired of
Bob whether it was the one involved. When Bob confirmed that it was,
he told us that he'd had the misfortune to sail all the way from Australia
to Thailand at the same time they did and had been subjected to numerous
embarrassing incidents similar to ours. He said they didn't have a
morsel of food on board, but the yacht was loaded to the hilt with
alcohol and cigarettes. Apparently they were inebriated 24 hours a
day and had fought all the way from Australia to Thailand. During
one of these fights the man had actually tossed the woman overboard!
We'd
been at Ao Nang for ten days and it was now time to say goodbye. Nim
implored us to stay for the "Festival of Lights" but we
explained that we needed to leave immediately if we wished to get
back to Phuket in time to clear emigration for our next visa run,
as our 30 days were almost up. Nim and Cha came down to the water's
edge with us and, once I was seated in the dinghy, Nim handed me two
floral arrangements. A circle of Frangipani flowers were secured onto
a large, thick, sturdy dark-green leaf, with a small candle centered
amongst the flowers. She told me exactly when the candles had to be
lit and said that we each had to place our own arrangement in the
sea. For days after the festival the Andaman sea was still alive with
hundreds of these pretty arrangements, gently floating in it's calm
waters.
We spent
the next three days at Ao Chalong clearing emigration and stocking
up with fresh produce. We popped into the Boating Association to check
for mail, and listened politely to everyone's advice on where to go
and what not to miss. We caught up on all the gossip about who'd arrived,
who'd tied up at the jetty illegally and who'd refused to pay club
subs. We also heard whose girlfriend had run off with whose husband!
On 29 November we sailed the one km over to Ban Nit Marina to take
on fresh water, and finally on 30 November, we unhooked the buoy and
set sail for our visa run to the duty-free Island of Langkawi, Malaysia.
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