Part I: The Rainstorm, Mosquito Chronicles, and Road to Bangkok
Table tennis aside, my final day demanded stillness and intentionality. As I’d found the past couple weeks, fewer practices served this purpose better than the patient discipline of trying to photograph camouflaged snails and resident geckos peering at me over staircase railings. Staring contests with cold blooded reptiles and mollusks eventually reach a point of diminishing return, though, so I moved my focus to the resort’s vegetable garden. The clouds became darker gray. Distant thunder began to crack, and predictably, the afternoon’s downpour ensued. At first, the water hitting my face was cold and heavy, a sharp contrast to the thick, humid air, but enjoyable with the scent of rain mixing with soil and dry wood. At times, the water pellets could be quite aggressive, but simultaneously oddly and comforting. Armed with my North Face raincoat, I changed into my swimsuit, and dressed my camera with its plastic rain cover, opting to continue wandering the grounds barefoot. The soothing hiss of the hidden cicadas, a few common tailorbirds, and butterflies kept me company as the rainfall grew heavier. It was the ultimate exercise in letting go and being completely present. As I neared the end of the boardwalk through the garden, I stood still, focusing on the glassy droplets of water trading places on the edges of leaves, the sharp, pungent scent of mud and soil, and the vivid, contrasting reds and greens of the Thai chillies. High up in one of the trees, I caught a well-hidden green-billed Malkoha aggressively wrestling a worm, the rustle of the leaves somehow still drawing attention through the rain.
Back in my villa, that quiet presence turned into a bizarre internal monologue during my evening shower. Most nights, I was joined by the silhouettes of two geckos on the outside of the frosted glass window - adjacent to the shower. One was quite the athlete - alternating between patiently waiting for unsuspecting insects, and channeling his inner Brooks Robinson when dinner came near. The other lacked a tail and was naturally a bit slower. With the water steaming, I often would take a couple minutes tracking these fellas as they scurried sideways, vertically, and diagonally across the window, studying their smooth poise contrasting with the sudden, jerky determination. Today, though, I genuinely thought I lost the tailless guy, panicking when I only saw the usual intact one, only to feel an immense wave of relief when the little maimed survivor resurfaced near the bottom frame toward the end of my shower. Phew. Pulling for you, buddy.
Then there were the mosquitoes. They are, without a doubt, the single worst variable of this corner of the world. My internal radar had seemingly been calibrated to detect their presence subliminally. A visceral hatred and fury bubble up the second I spot them erratically drifting anywhere near my bubble. Let’s be real, they don't even have the decency to make a sound. Just invisible, stealth assaults that leave me furiously tracking their whereabouts when the subtle stinging or itchyness inevitably set in. At this point, my self-defense had morphed into a sport, and it became a mandatory daily ritual to see exactly how many I could destroy before they got to me. I missed my electrified tennis racquets; in hindsight, it would have been the most essential purchase upon arrival. But, it was too late for that, and I was equally satisfied hearing the tiny smack of my hands and seeing the evidence on my palm. While I am generally pro-life, there exists an indescribable wave of unadulterated satisfaction that comes with reducing their population one-by-one. A small, vengeful victory against the worst elements of the island.
Leaving for Bangkok tomorrow. I have cancelled my MRI and replaced it with a dental cleaning and haircut. Both should run me about $40, altogether. I am also on a hunt for elephant stuffed animals, and will be targeting the MBK Center - a popular shopping center for replica objects - for a soccer jersey and cheap bag to transport gifts. The vendors can be relentless. Bargaining is essential in this setting, as is patience. Wish me luck.
