The ancient philosopher Lao Tzu said "A good traveller has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving." Let's see how well I can misuse that wisdom.
Accommodation was something I thought I'd hastily sorted the night before, but after I arrived on this new island by ferry, the first two taxi drivers didn't recognise my intended lodging. Koh Phangan had a limited number of roads, especially compared to the more developed Koh Samui that I'd come from, though I also had the feeling that addresses were a new concept here. Undeterred, I jumped on the back of the second guy's moped after suggesting what I thought was a nearby landmark.
As we were leaving the port, he suggested that I put my arms around him to hold on. That didn't seem necessary - is this how he adds a bit of excitement to his day? The reason, soon became apparent as the roads took a vertical slant with a random selection of bumps and potholes.
After a short ride up the western coast, we took a right turn up an even steeper driveway. This was a huge, ocean-facing property. The stressed bike's engine climbed past a worker's building, then a small front office and a number of bungalows before the road came to an end at a clearing full of rented mopeds. This wasn't the top of the hill, but it was the end of the ride. I thanked and paid the driver then began up the stone-cut steps. This place had boasted, among other things, the best sunset view on the island and the more I increased in altitude, the less I doubted the claim.
As I began my ascent, two smoking-hot European women were coming down the stairs while speaking a non-English language that I was a little too distracted to recognise. Passing each other on the steps, there was a short pause to exchange eye contact and smiles. This place kept getting better the higher I went.
The Amst*rdam Bar (spelt with a star) is actually two bars which take up a large deck each. The lower section has a swimming pool, whereas the upper deck had an even more laid-back atmosphere with a cushion covered floor and small, square wooden tables.
Panoramic views overlooked nearby islands as well as ferry transits to/from those beyond the horizon. Today's weather was overcast but the (monkey) magic of the place was irrepressible.
Most bars require footwear whereas this one requested the opposite. Small groups were scattered across the place, sipping drinks and heating plant matter that could somehow justify harsh and extended cage-time in this country.
I put my bag down, ordered from the bar and took in the scenery. It was good. As I finished my drink, my intent was to quickly establish base camp so that I can return to relax here.
I went downhill to the admin building where they tried, unsuccessfully, to help me locate my prearranged accommodation. There was a WiFi signal here though, and I used my phone to take into account two maps. There was a low-resolution map from the booking page that roughly marked the location, and then there was Google maps, which didn't mark the location, but did show roads and topography. Topography was the key word here. It looked like the place was a short distance away as the crow flies, however, there was this mountain in the middle and a long road around.
They rang the place with a conversation that just led to more confusion and the best I could make out was that they'd ring back in a few minutes. After a short wait I asked, "What about those bungalows?" pointing to the several wooden structures built into the aptly named, Stone Hill. "Are any of those available?"
He quoted a price, lower than I expected, which prompted confirmation that they were dorms. It wasn't an ideal situation, or at least that was my ill-perceived notion at the time. There were still at least 24 hours before transferred funds became available though my travelling bank card and any delays meant creative solutions would be needed for the few remaining Thai baht in my wallet. Paying by card wasn't the norm in Thailand, and less so this far from the mainland.
I paid in cash, wrote my name in the register (no id required) and was shown to a clean, empty dorm with the type of view that inspires postcards which inspire resentment.
There was another reason I wanted to have cash at hand. Police corruption meant that an unwanted encounter with the cops could be settled with a bribe. This encounter may be warranted or unwarranted, because tourists are sometimes seen as an easy supplement to their income. My prior research for worst-case scenarios of scams, crimes and misadventure in this part of the world had included episodes of Locked Up Abroad. That show didn't paint a pretty picture.
At first by accident, and then by curiosity, I'd been learning about the underworld influences in Thailand. Russians played a big part with significant presence in many of the nightlife industries. Even on Koh Phangan, which can only be reached by boat (airport unfortunately coming soon), they had a foothold.
On the ferry here, I'd sat behind a man cut from a rectangular boulder-block. His main knuckles on both hands were healing with scabs that suggested someone else had recently come off much worse. Travelling alone in an old, faded singlet and hat, he reserved the window seat for an immaculate, huge black leather bag with gold zips. I didn't need to be a professional profiler to see that something was amiss with this picture. Whatever was in the bag, I'm going to guess it didn't include a hardcover copy of Walden and a selfie-stick.
As I made my way back up to the top bar, I felt like I was on location of a classic cop movie, where a mansion of Uzi-wielding minions is stormed by the law-bringing main characters in the finale. In this case though, I was on the side that gets either blown away or arrested.
I knew that the reason the bar was able to sell joints was because they'd paid off the authorities, but those types of relationships can easily turn sour and it would be a precautionary exercise to assess the situation for the possibility of a police raid.
As far as fortified locations go, this place was top notch. The one road from the bottom of the mountain meant that any marked vehicles would be seen coming up the slow ascent. I'd probably be first noted to this by a sudden change in mood from the chilled staff and I could go rogue in the surrounding jungle.
A police boat would likely come from Koh Samui and this place had the main transit line in view. Even if they came in abseiling off helicopters, there was enough of a panoramic view that the surprise factor would be diminished.
Continuing this line of thought, I figured that the only way was if they had already infiltrated the place and were going to come out of hiding in a highly-coordinated yet low-stakes sting operation. There were only Thai's working here and non-Thai's as patrons. Everyone looked as relaxed as to be expected in this paradise setting.
I'd given paranoia a chance to search for possible threatening scenarios. It could now set up mental trip wires for circumstantial changes and then be gone. This would make way for deeper thoughts as my immediate terror-alert shifted to code green.
Via the bar, I sat on a cushioned floor-chair on the main deck. The grey-could sky didn't make for any less than a million-dollar view. At this elevated place, I inhaled introspection.
Time passed in the most pleasant of ways. It was in complete contrast to how it passes in places like airport terminals - as if it was credited to my account instead of debited. This was my birthday well-spent. It had taken me this many years to truly appreciate Bob Marley and now I was catching up. Primed set and setting assisted, as well as the appreciation of two guys I'd started talking to. They were from Iraq and Syria and knew how to appreciate the little things, so when light rain moved many people back to the undercover area, we treated weather like wallpaper.
The crowd increased for an obscured sunset. It was an interesting mix of world travellers. I ordered a meal as there was nowhere else I needed to be and even the food was brilliant. The rain hit harder, then ceased for a while before another downpour. This validated concern from those with mopeds and accommodation elsewhere. I watched as a few bikes chanced the steep, downhill path which was now fed by a steady flow of water. Glad that my room was only a short walk away, I headed to my bungalow.
As I approached the wooden steps, I realised a stray dog was curled up outside my room. He was a little startled and rose up to leave, although this movement was slowed by the tiredness of old age. I talked to him as a friend, without too much direct attention, and he decided not to leave this dry shelter. This was a flashback to my lodging in the Amazon, where another dog did the same. It was also a link to my dog at home. If I put a full stop on the end of my thoughts here, all seemed right in this section of the universe.
