I am a woman of language, the tongue, the voice, the sounds we make to be together, to understand whatever there is to be known.
I create from within.
This is what the German young man said about me after listening to my description of how I make my living. “Traveling and writing go well together,” he said. He said his work as a mechanical engineer comes to him from outside himself; all the machines he’s inherited from previous generations and all the problems he’s solving are from the others. My work is just me, looking inside myself and expressing what I find. “This is very cool,” he says nodding his head before we take one big step and plunge into the ocean. Today I complete my 12th, 13th, and 14th dives in the open ocean. The water is gorgeous, fish life abundant and coral reef is wowing me. I feel like I’m swimming through a giant garden. The corals look like enormous pink roses in full blossom.
Bang Bao pier is the floating market in this Gulf of Thailand. I catch the scuba boat with Koh Chang Divers and they zip us out to the marine park, protected sea around nearby islands. It costs 400 BAHT per head to dive in the park. Totally worth it on top of the 3,500 BAHT I pay for the dives. Money well spent when it takes you out into the heart of wild nature. She gives you back your life. Nine hours at sea and I’m delivered back to land in time for sunset.
For the healthiest food on Koh Chang, I drive to Indie Raw or Indie Beach. Fresh bohemian vibes, pretty veggies, and an overwhelming long list of smoothies. I stand there humming, searching the menu for green things. Why do I want espresso shots added to everything? Caffeine addiction is strong in me on this island. It’s probably because I’m writing. Writing and coffee are best friends in my system. I order green juice to help the cells in my body replenish and repair themselves. Miso soup for fermented pro-biotic goodness, gut health please!
I explore the Bang Bao pier market. It’s like Pike Place Market’s tropical scrawny little brother. Fishy stalls, sea creatures surviving their final moments in buckets. Sweet coconut pancakes served in paper takeaway trays. Silk elephant stuff animals, the same Bingtang graphic tank tops, more elephant patterns on hippie pants, shells sewn together in curtains and wind chimes, too many ankle bracelets to choose from. I chose one and regretted it the whole walk home. I was jingling like a Christmas elf, every step, bells dingling, on my feet, in a rhythm, driving me crazy!! Take it off. I’ll give it to my mom. She likes bells.
Twice on this hot island I’ve been into the first aid kit. My first morning alone, I ran down the beach at sunrise. Twenty minutes in, almost home, my left foot sunk into the sand and a spiked white shell sunk into the big toe mound. I pulled out the spikes that had broken off the shell’s body. One spike took three days to be extracted. One week later, I went swimming, again at the sunrise moment. After chasing fish and pinching my nose a hundred times (to equalize my ears as I dive down to inspect coral in the bay), I climbed out onto the rocks and my right foot sliced along a barnacle. The blood was minimal. The cut was clean with very little pain. I’ve been hobbling around though as it’s uncomfortable to put my full right on it.
My last days on the island have been land ridden, writing up a storm, staring at the waves, scraping meat out of fresh coconuts.
Love & Rainbows,
Cha Wilde
