The worst part of arriving anywhere is that you have to find a place to stay, while carrying about 60 kgs of stuff on your back. You can try to plan stuff in advance, but in Thailand, nothing goes as planned.

The taxi driver dropped us off at a hotel that was "good for our needs." He walked into the main office and talked to the staff first. This meant that we were going to be charged an extra 50-100 baht a night or so, to pay for his commission. I hate it when they do that. The place was nice, but I refuse to pay extra because he dropped us off there. So on we went in search of accomodation.

I bumped into a couple I saw on Ko Pha Ngan and we followed them around for a while as they searched out a place to stay as well. Seemed they had a place in mind, and were quoted a price too. Of course, upon arrival at their hotel, it seemed that the prices had magically risen since yesterday (everyone who left Ko Pha Ngan went to Ko Samui it seems).

Abok and I finally found a double room for 350 baht a night. We quickly dropped off our stuff and rented bikes. The photo above is us at a beach side restaurant called Kiki..which means something obscene in Tagalog, but was a nice restaurant anyway.

Ko Samui isn't known for it's prominence in the human flesh trade. Actually, none of the islands, with the exception of Phuket (pronounced poo-get, not fuck it, though it would be more fitting if it were) are as sleazy as Bangkok. Which was why I was surprised to see this sign.

We were staying in Chaweng, the more family-oriented area of Samui, as opposed to Lamai, which was a half hour ride away. That's where there's an abundance of middle aged, over-weight European men with teenaged Thai girls.

Abok and I were just taking a stroll around the area after a morning cuppa Starbucks, and came across the red light district. Outside of this place, there were a few bars where you could rent some companionship, and one place in particular which proudly touted a sign that read: "The Only Go-Go Bar in Samui."

I've said it once, and I'll say it again: Monopolies suck.

May 29, 2002. Samui Shooting Sport. I heard about this place from my buddy Mike, a fellow Canadian in Japan. The only time I've ever fired anything remotely dangerous was at Fort York, in Toronto. I still remember squeezing off those .22's, it was like a pellet gun, but it was a whole lotta fun.

Ever since Mike mentioned this place to me, I'd been dying to try it out. Abok wasn't interested in the idea of shooting paper targets, but I dragged him along anyway. For 600 baht, I got 10 shots with a 9mm (I could have taken a .45, a .22, a shot gun or a rifle) and rather brief instructions.

Guy at the range: "You ever shoot before?"

Me: "Uh yeah, long time ago."

Guy: "Ok. Go like this, like this. Keep it level. Ok."

I managed to hit the target twice. You can't see it from the picture above, but I wasn't too far away from the center. At least I got it in the black area. Of course, the other 8 shots went into the dirt. It's harder than John Woo makes it look.

It's not a nice feeling to know that I can't hit the broad side of a barn with a beachball, but hey, how often to I find myself having to pop a cap in someone's ass? It's not like I live in Scarborough.

After the shooting range, we thought it'd be nice to go for a ride around Samui. While riding along the main road, we passed by a few scenic points. Check out the view. I don't want to harp on about it too much, but this really beats the hell out of Ko Pha Ngan.

I'm happy because I haven't fallen off my bike yet. Paved roads make a hell of a difference. But since I no longer could make an ass of myself by falling, I did it by leaving my helmet here accidentally.

Coconut trees are so beautiful. I wish we had them at home. As if falling icicles and flying truck tires weren't enough to look out for when we go out nowadays. This was the beginning of our trek to some 81 metre high waterfall in the middle of Samui. It's funny where you end up when you have scooters, a map and a whack of time on your hands.

To get to the waterfall, you have to hike up about 130 metres, which makes no sense to me, seeing as how the waterfall is only 81 meters tall. Anyway, they offer elephant rides up to the top of the hill. They don't cost too much, but it's more rewarding if you walk it...so we told ourselves. 20 minutes in the unforgiving sun and 40 degree heat was enough to make me regret not mounting Babar.

We made it! That's Abok raising his arms in triumph.

There were a few other people up here too. It was a bitch of a trek to get to this waterfall. And to be honest, it was more like a trickle than a real waterfall, especially if you've been Niagara. And what's a waterfall without water? Just a really, really tall rock.

Well, this was time well spent.

Ok, time to go back down. Oh look, it's raining. How wonderful. It really started to pour a few minutes into our descent, and by the time we got backt o where we parked out bikes, I thought Noah was going to come around to collect a pair of elephants. And to top it off, someone had taken my helmet from my bike.

Luckily, there was a small resaturant nearby and we ducked in there to evade the rain. The restaurant was owned by an older couple, who were extremely hospitable to Abok and I. We sat out the rain and the owner gave me back my helmet. I couldn't figure out why he had it, but I was so glad to get it back that I didn't ask.

May 30, 2002. I've heard a lot of good things about Samui, and it would have been a shame not to experience everything it has to offer. Abok and I booked a kyaking trip through a local travel agency and at 7:30am, they knocked on our door and whisked us away to this place. This is the beach we dropped anchor on. Welcome to Ang Thong national park.

This is it, the enclosed lake. Like something out of a movie, it's totally shut off from the outside, save for a few cracks beneath the rocks for the water to move in and out.

The water is absolutely immaculate, but they don't let you in it. Which was fine for me because I saw some big barracudas in the water.

After leaving Ang Thong, the tour took us out to some tiny island, told us to grab a life jacket, a paddle and a buddy. We hopped into the 2-man kyaks and spent the next hour and a bit paddling around the surrounding islands.

It was funny to watch all the other (uncoordinated) patrons struggle to go in a straight line while our guide was gliding through the water easily with only a few strokes.

At the furthest possible point from the shore, Abok's wrist started acting up and he couldn't stroke on the left side with any power. So I had to correct every four strokes or so by doubling up on the left, since we started to veer to the side constantly.

Eventually, I got tired with it and told Abok to just sit back while I paddled back myself. Now that I think about it, it is more than likely that it was all an elaborate ploy on Abok's part to get a free ride.

May 31, 2002. Big Buddah beach. This is at the north of the island, near the domestic airport. You can actually see the huge ass buddah when you come to the island. There's one in Hong Kong (sitting) and one somewhere in China (standing).

This place wasn't all that memorable, except for a kick ass restaurant that we went to around here. It was cheap, the food was fantastitc and I had my first real Thai iced tea.

I think the thing I love most about Thailand is how quiet it can be. Not "quiet" in the conventional sense, but it's so easy going here that it has become quiet in my mind. Take this scene above, for instance. I was just riding along and stopped to take a shot. There were no cars or people around to ruin it and we were in no rush to go anywhere - it's the Thai version of a Japanese zen rock garden.

I haven't thought about home or planned anything more than 10 minutes in the future since I've been here. I have money and I have time. It's wonderful. You know, back in T.O., I could have rattled off 2 credit card numbers, a bank card number and even my frikkin library card number, off the top of my head. Not to mention the plethora of usernames, passwords and phone numbers that are now required to get through daily life.

But here, ah here, sometimes I have to think for a second before I remember how to introduce myself.

Here we are eating on the front steps of some shop, along the highway. Not something you'd catch us doing back in North America, but here, it's somehow ok to do this.

As we were heading back home, Abok developed a craving for rotisserie chicken. We saw a few places on the side of the road, and after passing the third one, we decided to double back and eat. It was so hot that day that I didn't have much of an appetite, so I had a Coke while Abok polished off half a chicken on his own.

He later told me that he could have finished an entire chicken. I think I might be able to do that too, but why the hell would I want to? That's disgusting.

On the way back from Lamai, we passed by this restaurant. It's at the top of a hill, and has a spectacular view, but you have to go up a 30 degree incline to get there. We puttered up in first gear on our scooters and took a seat. The food again was fantastic, but we were paying North American prices, so that was the last time we went there. You really get spoiled in Thailand, as far as prices go. Paying $5 for a drink back home is nothing, but here, I wouldn't dish out more than $1.50.

I called home tonight - big mistake. It brought the tension of the west racing back into my head. Account numbers, names and bits of French started crowding out everything around me. Soon I felt like I was being wrapped in an ever-tightening maple leaf with my arteries clenching shut and my blood pressure rising. When will I learn to leave things where they are? I should have learned that in Japan. Well, anyway, I'm learning my lesson again by sitting here worrying about Hong Kong and my now-irregular heartbeat.

June 1, 2002. I bought a pair of cheap ass jeans off the street which had a messed up rivet. I was wearing them while sitting on the bed and the rivet tore a hole in the bedsheet. According to the price list that they had posted near the mirror, a damaged bedsheet costs 1000 baht (about $40 CAD) to replace. Abok just threw some pillows over the hole and suggested we make a run for it.

As I checked out, the lady told me to stay put while they checked the room. I was starting to panic, but 30 seconds later, she came back and told me it everything was ok and I could go. I dashed out, hopped on the back of a truck (they use pickups as taxis here) and got the hell out of there - wishing secretly that I had done some more damage to the room.