Which just seems absurd.
What it is doing, however, is giving me ample time to reflect on the nature of travel on crowded minibuses first full of bleary-eyed backpackers and then full of Thais on their mobiles.
None of which I will bore you with, as they seem to be mostly of the all-too-earnest "one world, one family, united by commercialism blah blah blah kill me" variety. Boring. If you really need that fix of high school philosopher pseudointellectualism, well, this is the Internet. It's readily available.
Instead, dear reader, let me regale you with tales of my adventures of yesterday. To preface: I am quite obviously fine, and do not need worried phone calls/texts/emails/facebooks thankyouverymuch.
The day started off threatening storms, which made for a pretty choppy and wet ride to Ko Phi Phi, sitting on the top of the boat as we were. Fortunately, once we neared the island, the skies cleared and we were able to enjoy some moderately nice sightseeing around Phi Phi Don and Phi Phi Leh. Then it was time for the part of the trip I'd been most looking forward to: SNORKELING! It started off as these stories so often do: the snorkeling was fantastic, and I loved seeing the fish swimming amongst the coral reef. My two friends and I were having a great time splashing about, playing in the water.
As you might already know, I am moderately ADD when it comes to animals (see the post about manatees). So it's probably inevitable that I got kind of distracted by a fish. I followed it for a while - couldn't have been but a minute - but when I looked up, I saw one of the scariest sights I have ever seen in my life: no one. It looked like I was completely alone in the water which, as you might imagine, is a pretty terrifying feeling. All my fears about deep, open water that I'd managed to successfully suppress for years came flooding back to me right at that moment.
Frantically, I searched for the nearest boat, becoming acutely aware of just how strong the current really was. After what felt like an eternity, I reached the boat, and my heart sank as I realized that it definitely wasn't mine. I paused, collected myself, and asked if anyone knew where the boat I had been on was.
500 meters. I could do this. There was a boat between this one and mine, so I knew I would have a resting point. I set off.
There was a shelf of coral, relatively shallow, that I knew I would need to keep close to if I was going to have any chance of staving off the panic that would come with staring into the abyss of the deeper water. The current, however, was having different ideas. Like a linebacker, it did it's best to keep me away from the comfortingly shallower water.
I was terrified to look up and drift even further out, but I was even more terrified to lose sight of the orange boat that was my beacon and guide to safety.
Finally, my breath coming in gasps and my mask sloshing with salt water, I reached the boat. Clinging to the rungs if the ladder, a German diver remarked on the strength of the current
"Just a bit," I replied, desperately hoping my dry sarcasm would mask the very real fear I felt for the inevitable second round.
"Best to get on with it," he nodded, and with more than a few steely breaths, I took the plunge.
Perhaps I was weaker, or more afraid, but it seemed that every time I looked up, the boat was farther away. The current, too, seemed more intent on dragging me out, and with every glance down the water seemed deeper and the fish more menacing. I could feel the panic rising in my throat.
"Don't panic. Just breathe." I tried to keep The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy in my mind, but I could hear my breaths coming in short tasks with more and more salt water in each one.
But I kept on. Finally, after what couldn't have been more than a few minutes but what felt like hours, I saw it: the boat's guide rope, stretched taut in the water like a finish line. Somehow, I had the presence of mind not to grab on in water too deep, but waited till I could keep my head above the water and pull myself to safety.
Trying desperately not to break down in tears, I hauled myself up the ladder, gasping for breath and amazed to have made it out of the water.
I think I'm pretty lucky: I've been swimming regularly for six months, so I'm pretty strong in the water. That, and the lessons I remembered from boy scouts probably kept me safe. Looking back, though, I'm not sure how much real danger I was in. There were people everywhere who likely could have helped, and ultimately I made it.
So overall, I'd say it was a good day.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone (but not really, it's an iPod touch)
Location:On the road to Surat Thani
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