The Peace Correspondent by Garry Marchant

Author:Garry Marchant
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Earnshaw Books
Published: 2009-09-05T04:00:00+00:00

KOH SAMUI

Beaches and Buddhas

February 2001

AT 10am on Koh Samui’s Chaweng Beach, the cheerful hawkers and hustlers are already out. Ambulatory chefs carrying mobile kitchens of tiny braziers suspended from shoulder poles sell grilled chicken, corn and bananas. A henna tattooist applies his art to a pale, bare arm, a masseuse whacks and kneads meaty backs and thighs, stretching, pulling and pummeling the flesh.

On this sunny morning in the Gulf of Thailand, Germans sprawled on beach chairs are sipping their first beers of the day, French women whip off bikini tops, exposing sun-bronzed breasts, Hong Kongers discuss lunch and Australian girls get their hair braided and beaded, Bo Derek/Rastafarian style.

Twenty years ago, Koh Samui was an island of coconut plantations, fishermen and a small wandering tribe of adventurous backpackers searching for the perfect beach. Just over a decade ago, only a few bungalows provided basic accommodation. Now, the island is one of Thailand’s major tourist destinations, with resorts lining beaches such as seven-kilometer-long Chaweng, the main tourist center, as well as Lamai, Maenam, Bophut and others.

The resorts come in all different styles, sizes and price ranges, some traditional tropical low-rises, others larger, more modern. Along Chaweng, one resort displays a pair of statues of huge faces on its beachfront, another bizarre fake palm sculptures, others driftwood sculptures.

Scenic Chaweng bustles with action as a steady stream of commerce passes the holidayers, although the hustle is low-key and friendly. Signs proclaim “Beer is yum” and advertise “Thai massage, foot massage, skin your feet.” With the soles of my feet intact, I wander down the long stretch of fine sand. The foreign visitors here are near naked, while the Thais are clothed in big floppy straw hats, sunglasses, long-sleeve shirts and long pants, and shawls over their shoulders, exposing the minimum of skin to the searing sun.

A henna tattooist approaches me, displaying a book of designs that these epidermal artists copy, largely geometric patterns or illustrations of birds and butterflies.

“It is good for dancing,” he assures me, as I try to hide behind my paperback novel.

“I don’t dance,” I reply.

“It’s good for boomfing. You boomfing?” he asks, turning to a page with mildly pornographic designs illustrating couples “boomfing.”

At night, Chaweng is a lively, neon strip of restaurants, cybercafes, bamboo hut bars and clubs for dancing, and perhaps boomfing as well. The scent of fried garlic and chilies wafts from numerous small open-air cafes serving tasty Thai food - coconut chicken soup, spicy fish curry, fried noodles with shrimp, beef with garlic and chili, pork with basil, and garlic fried rice. The menu in a restaurant overlooking a small lake lists “Jesty Thai” dishes, and that is no joke. Italian, German, Mideast, Japanese, Korean restaurants, even a Gringo’s Mex-Tex (run by a Canadian) all cater to international tastes.

But there is more to Samui than this intense beach-and-town scene. Small Japanese pickup-truck buses, called song-taew, circle the island. So, leaving behind the aromas of suntan lotion, the sea and fried garlic, I hit the road to explore the island.

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