Samui & The Witch

Where to next?  The decision between more islands or the jungle was decided by the footwear I'd brought with me.  At home, I had ideal boots for trekking in Khao Sok National Park, but my current shoes weren't up for the task of mud and leeches.

Another item on my to-do list was "dental tourism".  My last dentist visit claimed that a couple of fillings required replacement.  The savings of having it done abroad could offset a large chunk of the travel expenses.  Thailand's hospitals have a good reputation for quality work and I'd looked into a particular place in Phuket.  I was now intent on leaving Phuket and a bit of online investigation revealed that my next destination also had an international hospital used for such treatments.

An hour's flight over the tail of Thailand's mainland and I landed on an island experiencing a different season.  In Koh Samui, it was raining heavily enough to thwart my plans of walking out of the airport grounds before finding a taxi.  I had booked a one-way flight and one night's accommodation, but the weather today didn't favour exploration.  When I arrived at my room, the rain stopped.  This allowed time to explore a little, but I didn't venture far as recovery from the previous week was still needed.  The rain came again and soon flowed into some delta brain waves.

The next day I ventured along the main street and parallel beach of Chaweng.  I didn't have a feel for enjoying Samui.  As far as I could tell, it catered to the vacationist - a subspecies of the tourist that favoured the sedentary dip of deck chairs.  There was a strange mix of middle-aged couples milking their golden watch years, and younger, bar-bound groups (mainly Australian males).  The beach had a trashed-beauty to it, and in the morning resort employees would use wide brooms to sweep in the direction of the ocean.  I wasn't sure why this was necessary until I stepped on a fragment of broken glass.  A beach-strolling hawker offered me cocaine for sale.  Apart from being a bad choice of poison at the best of times, it seemed a strange market for such a stimulant here.  What were people doing - relaxing by the beach with a really intense focus?

I checked in with the dentist and made an appointment for my last day before flying home.  I then booked a ferry to another island to the north, although that would leave tomorrow morning, so I also arranged another night's lodging.

While again walking the main road, I thought to explore the street behind and a set of steps appeared to go up and over.  I climbed the stairs and came across several makeshift curtain-divided rooms that each had a thin mattress on the floor.  In the same second that I realised what this was, a lady emerged from a darkened tent which may, or may not, have contained a cauldron.  I couldn't guess her age as she was withered by more than time.  An unidentified facial malformation spread across part of her nose and upper lip.  Immediately my mind flashed to a graphic witch scene in a novel I'd recently read (The Sad Tale of the Brother's Grossbart).  It was daytime, but she was working the graveyard shift.  As her eyes locked on and she hovered towards me, I abandoned the idea of taking this shortcut.

"Massage?"  If I didn't recognise this as a codeword, she rasped straight to the point, "I'll give you happy ending". 

She had the voice of a retired death metal singer who still chain smoked all day and gargled gravel for breakfast.  With insistence she added, "Happy ending good for you."

In this particular instance, I felt a strong degree of skepticism.  I thought that the opposite was more likely true.  Obscure damage to the mind, body and spirit via PTSD, STD & possible need of an exorcism.

I backtracked with a distance-creating hand that I thought might look like a wave goodbye, but was less concerned with the pleasantries.  She might think it never hurts to ask, but I can still relapse the shivers.