Being Nekton (Thailand 5)

E-mail #5: Life in a fluid medium: Being Nekton

Sawatdee ka,

Merry almost Christmachannakwanzaaka. Though we lack snow and most pine products, Thai people (90some percent Buddhist with strong Animist influences) do a pretty good job of getting in the holiday mood. Odd displays of holiday cheer (imagine Christmas bush with paper lanterns) have been on display in places like Bangkok’s Siam Paragon mall since Halloween, and the crazy man that lives across our hall has added a Santa clause doll to his dominant hallway display. Safe to say that there is no lack of holiday cheer, even sans snow.

The story of my past month here begins with another great American holiday: Thanksgiving. To honor this holiday appropriately, the ISDSI students engaged in an elaborate scheme: we created family roles for each of us. We made two family trees and encompassed all of the great stereotypes, from the senile grandpa’s new cougar girlfriend to the European girlfriend, there was lots of shunning to go around. We ate a delicious meal at our program director, Ajaan Mark’s house. Ironically, Thanksgiving dinner became the first and only thing I have gotten sick from in Thailand.

Because nothing is ever quite normal in the third world, Ajaan Mark’s Thanksgiving speech began with the announcement that protestors had shut down the airport in Chiang Mai (approx. 2 miles from us at the time) as well as both in Bangkok. The (former) Prime Minister Somchai was currently in Chiang Mai, and some violence had occurred, along with rumored threats to shut down all public transportation in the county. This presented a slight hitch in our plans to train to Bangkok the following day, but never fear, because our ever-scheming Ajaan team had rented a double-decker party bus, complete with Karaoke, to drive us the 24-48 hours down to Pak Bara in the south. We had a magic school bus for real. We endured the first day of drowsy listfullness only to wake up very early the next morning to the blaring sound of Ricky Martin’s Livin’ La Vida Loca music video playing on the bus TVs. We thought this was a cruel joke, until we looked out the windows and realized that we had reached the end of the road, the southernmost land-locked tip of Thailand. I poked my head out of the window and inhaled the dense sea air; our Adang Archipelago adventure had begun.

The Urak Lawoi are the original inhabitants of the Archipelago, they describe themselves as people of the ribbon, occupying the space between the edge of the forest and deep edge of the coral reefs. It was in this world that I spent the last month. When I asked a tour shop owner named Johan why so many people (mostly speedo-clad overweight Europeans, occasionally wearing hiking boots) come Tarurtao national park, he simply motioned at the ocean, “look at that”, he replied, “they come for those colors”. To say that the islands were beautiful would not do them justice- I’ll leave it at this- they were the first and only place I have ever been able to meditate with my eyes open.

Camping on the ribbon was not quite as romantic an experience as it may sound. For starters, the first night when we awoke around one to find the lapping waters of the Indian Ocean about two feet from the edge of our tent. Through camping, kayaking, snorkeling, speargun fishing (I caught a glass bottle) and playing on the beach I came to know the many magical/evil properties of seawater.

Let’s begin with the magical. Water is an integral part of us, 70% of our bodies are water and 70% of the earth’s surface is covered by water. We are, as Carl Safina suggests, “soft vessels of seawater, wrapped around an ocean within”. I experienced this truth every time I entered the water. I would wade in up to my waist (doing the stingray shuffle, of course) and place my hands palms-down on the water’s surface. I made a ritual about it, pausing for a moment to feel the tension as my hands lingered between two worlds, submersion and flight. The water cooed suggestively, advertising its 33-37% salinity that would aid my flotation. Because there were reefs to be explored and the Indian Ocean is the temperature of a tepid bath, I chose the world of water, diving in and curving my body to come up head-first.

Safe inside this fluid world of color and stimulation, I delighted in the hustle and bustle of the reef. Schools of fish embodied the water’s energy, threading themselves between beams of light that checkered the ocean floor. Occasionally the smaller ones would decide that my suspended red hair was an anemone of sorts, and they would cling to it with the ferocity of a false clownfish (nemo) defending its home, the magnificent sea anemone. The first time I dove, I was overwhelmed at the task of identifying the diverse reef creatures. I had my eyes glued to the underwater field guide and was flipping through it fruitlessly, when a large fish nearly took my ear off. I followed this colorful and charismatic parrotfish as it flew (as in moved its pectoral fins like wings) around the reefs, munching on coral with a crunching Velcro-sound. In this manner, parrotfish introduced me to the reef and became my favorites.

The Urak Lawoi regard the ocean as a place to discard misfortune. This works well because due to charge polarity, the ocean acts as a wonderful solvent. We too used the ocean to discard all sorts of misfortune, namely to wash our dishes and poop. The ocean was not always friendly in return. The reefs were full of dangerous sea urchins, crown of thorns starfish, and poisonous lionfish, the cuter the fish, the more deadly. Even when we kept our distance, the inevitable sting of sea lice was a constant source of woes. Although saltwater is an excellent antibacterial, it prevents wounds from healing, so we became increasingly mangy. The Ocean’s two dominant elements formed an uncomfortable sodium chloride residue that after a week without showers threatened to turn my French braid into a mono-dred.

But the evil properties of the sea water are part of what made it so fun. The archipelago is rumored to be the sight of Atlantis and was home to fearsome pirates until they were eradicated just after World War II. Perhaps it was these stories, perhaps it was the ever-present saltiness, but after a while, we went er---tribal. The cracking point was an overcast day when we paddled to a mangrove forest to check out the reefs. We were halfway through a zonation survey when it began to rain very hard. At this moment I finally internalized the meaning of John Muir’s words “the winds will blow their freshness into you, and storms their energy…” Let’s just say in our drenched and perilous paddle back we got the energy- in the form of paddling with our masks and snorkels on screaming 90’s songs, speaking with pirate accents. This spiral of silliness peaked when the other group ended our stakeholder analysis presentations by bolding us with eggs, beginning a rather epic egg fight.

All silliness aside, I learned a lot from this course. I got re-acquainted with the power of science, its ability to “sense and convey the depth and dimensionality of nature, to glance at the surface and to divine the shape of the universe around us”. I woke up each morning to watch the sunrise, and despite being five degrees from the equator evaded getting burned. While Dan the tan man, as we nicknamed him, laid on the beach daily, my skin was more inclined to basking in the ethereal light of the moon. From the islands we saw the largest full moon in fifteen years, and felt the corresponding pull of the tides on our bodies. On the last night we set off prayer lanterns to mark the end of our studies with ISDSI, the familiar sight of the big dipper lingered as if supported by a hammock, over the horizon, pointing us home.

So now where to? We’re back in Chiang Mai for a few days saying goodbyes to our friends from other colleges who are heading back to the states. On Monday Kelly, Kelsey, Elliott and I are heading to Vietnam, where we plan on spending Christmas in Ho Chi Minh City and New Years in Hue. My thoughts are increasingly with all of you back home. I finally got a copy of Time magazine from the elections, and cried. We’re all anxious for news from home, specifically; did Leonardo DiCaprio really agree to do a Titanic II (please tell me this is a joke)? The world never ceases to amaze me. Have a happy and healthy holiday season.

Love,

Jenna