Delicious Ambiguity

I am sitting on the beach on the island Koh Tao, playing with my feet in the sand as I look at the long tail boats heading out for a day of fishing.  The strength of the wi-fi connection in the middle of paradise amazes me.  I feel slightly guilty for bringing my computer out here — like its mere presence is polluting the serene atmosphere just as much as the buzz of the motorbikes from the nearby road.  But I have work to do, so why not do it in paradise?

It is early.  Well, it’s 9am.  But that’s early if you were dancing on the beach and then swimming in the sea in your clothes until 3am.  My friends are still asleep, but I could no longer stand the sound of the roosters crowing violently right outside my window.  The sound is horrifying.  Imagine the sound of a pig squealing as it’s slaughtered combined with the sound of a mean, ugly person retching into a squatter toilet.  Yes, that’s exactly what it sounds like.  And so I dragged myself out of bed and headed for the beach.  Ah well, mai pen rai.

“Mai pen rai” is a Thai phrase that literally translates to “it doesn’t matter,” but like the word “shalom” from Hebrew, “mai pen rai” has many meanings.  It means taking difficult situations in stride, not brooding over loss, not being bothered by life’s inconveniences (small and large), an apology (“Dude, you spilled my Chang.” “Oh, mai pen rai.”) and having a general optimism and joyfulness about life both in the moment and in the greater scheme of things.  The mai pen rai philosophy is one of the great definers of Thai character, and one of the hardest things about Thailand for a Westerner to get used to.  Oftentimes we Westerners get worked up when things don’t go as anticipated.  But acting angry and self-righteous when you don’t get your way in Thailand doesn’t get you very far with Thais.   A major mai pen rai attitude adjustment is required if you’re gonna last here. Example:

Angry New Yorker: What do you mean you don’t have a vegetarian meal for me on this dive boat?

Every Thai Person: Mai pen rai.  (smile smile smile)

Angry New Yorker: But I don’t eat meat!  I made arrangements ahead of time for a vegetarian meal!  Now I’ll have to snorkel hungry and won’t enjoy the experience fully.  I want a partial refund when we return to shore.

Every Thai Person: Mai pen rai.  (smile smile smile. side comment to boat-boy friend. laughter. unconcerned look returned to the farang — Thai word for foreigner.  smile smile smile.)

My whole time in Thailand I have been faced with “mai pen rai” situations just about every day.  In order to survive here and not go insane, the only thing for a Westerner to do is be as mai pen rai as possible.  Despite the fact that I’m from NYC *and* my life these past two years has been far from predictable, being mai pen rai hasn’t exactly been a piece of cake for me.  But I’m making a conscious effort.

Earlier this week I had to make my way from Phuket, on the southwest coast of Thailand, to Koh Tao, a tiny island north of Phuket on the east coast.  I did my research using my guidebook and with the local travel agents and even compared options of booking directly with my hotel.  My best bet was going to be a bus/boat combo trip, which, according to the very sweet but ill-informed ladies working at my hotel would take just 8 hours total.  And it was going to be a luxury bus with reclining seats, air conditioning, and maybe even a movie.  Perfect.  I booked it.

When the bus picked me up the next morning (45 minutes late), I saw to my dismay that it was a glorified mini-van with everyone’s luggage piled on top and “secured” with a piece of rope showing visible signs of wear.  I thought about the brand new video equipment in my little suitcase.  The driver hopped out and in a flash, grabbed my suitcase and prepared to heave it onto the roof of the Mystery Machine.

“No!  That bag has to go inside the bus.  Inside!”

He opened the door of the Mystery Machine and staring back at me were 10 people scrunched into the mini-van special.  You could tell that the original seats of the van had been torn out to make way for twice as many smaller seats.  I was the very last person picked up, so I got the honor of sitting in the middle seat of the middle row.  In front of me was a 12-inch TV with a cracked screen and some sort of built-in tape playing device with the remnants of a chewed up VHS hanging out of its mouth.  Above me I tried to reposition the air conditioning vent, but the air that wheezed out was weak and smelly no matter where the vent pointed.  Luckily I had convinced the driver to put some backpacks from the trunk onto the roof and put my suitcase into the trunk.  I reached for my seat belt, but realized there was none.  Luxury bus, my ass.  The Mystery Machine was more like the “Misery” Machine.  At least my bag was safe!

Five bumpy, hot, smelly miserable hours later we arrived to the bus station in Suratthani.  The station was a shack off the side of a dirt road with one man selling/collecting tickets, and one woman cooking stir-fried rice for 50 baht.  I half-expected to see tumbleweed float past to the tinny tune of a Johnny Cash song sung in Thai barely audible through an ancient radio.  I positioned my bags within eyesight and approached the ticket man.

“When is the next boat to Koh Tao?”

“Oh…uhhh…tomorrow.  Noon.”

“Um, no it’s not.  It’s today.  It’s supposed to be at 2pm today.  That’s what the travel agent at my hotel told me.”

“If you know, why you ask?  Ha ha ha, your travel agent wrong.  Mai pen rai.”

“No no, there has to be a boat today.  Where am I supposed to stay?!”  I slapped a mosquito on my chest and wiped the sweat from my brow.

“You stay here tonight.  Little room with fan just down the road. Mai pen rai.”

“No, you don’t understand.  I’m meeting friends in Koh Tao.  TODAY.  I’m supposed to get there TODAY.”

“I have idea I think is perfect for you.  You take boat to Koh Pagnon in two hours, stay at hotel by pier, my friend he works there, then tomorrow you take boat from Koh Pagnon to Koh Tao at noon.  Express boat.  Luxury boat.  Mai pen rai, lady.  Mai pen rai.”

Luxury boat?!  I doubt it!  I wanted to scream at this man:  I am so mai pen rai, man!  These past two years my whole perfect snow-globe-world was turned upside down, shaken till it cracked, and all of its precious pieces crashed to the ground!  I was mai pen rai as I tried to pick them up!  I was mai pen rai when I realized I couldn’t pick them up!  I was mai pen rai when I understood that I would have to build myself a new snow globe!  I am so fucking mai pen rai!  You have no idea just how fucking mai pen rai I am!!  Don’t fuck with me Thailand, cause in a mai pen rai battle to the chillax-and-relax death, this chic will take you down!  I am so fucking chill it’s scary!!!

But those thoughts aren’t exactly mai pen rai.  So I took a deep breath and swallowed them.  Buddhism teaches that it’s not worth it to dwell on something you cannot change, because your dwelling still won’t change the situation.  As I read more about Buddhism here in Thailand, I see that without knowing it, I actually used many of the religion’s philosophies in coping with my divorce, job loss and homelessness.

I sat down and pulled out my book.  I was uncomfortable.  I was unhappy.  I was hot as ballz.  I didn’t know when I would reach my final destination.  But I did know that shouting about it wouldn’t make it go any quicker.

When I arrived to Koh Pagnon at 7:30 that evening, I walked up the dock, the sunset and my little wheel-y suitcase behind me.   I walked into the very first hotel right off the pier.  “Do you have a room available for tonight?”  The man with smiling eyes gave me a wooden key shaped like a fish in exchange for 1,000 baht.  It was so easy.  It was this easy if I screamed about it or if didn’t scream about it.  So this is what having no plans feels like, I thought.  And I’m okay.  I’m just fine.  I went to my room, took a quick shower, and left the hotel 20 minutes later in search of the island’s night market.

At the night market I found delicious cheap eats consisting of the most sumptuous corn on the cob I’ve ever had as well as a tofu noodle stir-fry and a fresh strawberry shake.  (Sometimes in Thailand you can get a stress-free vegetarian meal!)  The market was packed but my eyes spied a table with four chairs, only one of them occupied.  “May I sit here?,” I asked the good-looking, white-haired man in his 60’s.  “Yes, of course.  My name is Klaus.  Where are you from?”  And so our evening together began.  Only later would I learn that Klaus possesses one of the most recognizable voices in all of Switzerland, being that he’s the country’s most famous voiceover artist.

Shortly after I sat down, we were joined by Dean, a thirty-something entrepreneur from Vancouver.  Dean and I really hit it off.  After just an hour he was giving me tips on my own entrepreneurial ideas.  As we walked down the road from the night market to the bar, I laughed and told him the story of the “Misery” Machine and how I even considered turning right around and suffering the 5-hour bus ride back to Phuket rather than embracing the remainder of the journey and its inevitable, unexpected complications.

“But now here you are on a beautiful island, past the midpoint of your journey, and talking to a charming Canadian.  Aren’t you glad you stuck it out?”

“I’m so glad.”

“And you wouldn’t be here without mai pen rai.”

“I know.  I think I might be getting the hang of this mai pen rai thing.”

“I have an idea…let’s play a mai pen rai game together.  We each try to be as mai pen rai as possible, making little to no plans and sharing the tales with the other one over email.”

“Oh, I don’t know if I’m that mai pen rai to be much of an adversary.  I think you’d win the mai pen rai game.”

“No, no, it’s not about winning or losing.  It’s only about playing.  Otherwise it wouldn’t be mai pen rai.  Do you get it?”

“Yeah.”  I was slowly nodding my head, my smile growing wider.  “Yeah, I get it.  Let’s play.”

“So where are you staying tomorrow in Koh Tao?”

“I’m not sure yet.  I guess I’ll figure that out when I get off the boat.”

Dean’s eyes sparkled and met mine.

“Mai pen rai, baby.”

“Mai pen rai.”

~ by deliciousambiguous on February 21, 2010.

Posted in Mai Pen Rai, Thailand, Travel, Vagabonding