Paradise Lost

DAY: 37
LOCATION: Surat Thani, Koh Samui

Some people vibrate on such a high level that just being in their presence can elevate you. They don’t have to say or do anything at all, their aura is enough to affect change in others, to warm the room and soften hearts. Such was my experience with the man running the buffet at Surat Thani Vegetarian.

As soon as I walked into the restaurant, I was touched by its spiritual ambiance. After walking along dirty streets and disheveled buildings, it felt like a hidden oasis, tucked away in a side alley. Although the building itself resembled a warehouse, with cement floors and aluminum ceilings, the enlighteneed decorations transformed the space. A gorgeous sculpture of a smiling Buddha face with fountain and trees greeted me from the back courtyard, and I immediately felt at home.

When I went to order my food, I knew I’d found some place really special. The man behind the counter spoke only a little English, and yet I felt deeply connected to him. Yes, being vegetarian created an instant bond, but it was more than that. It felt like he was seeing me, the real me. Or maybe the potential Buddhahood within me.

I ate in joyful silence, observing the Thai people around me. The unusual vegetables were flavorful and spicy, the custard-like coconut cakes heavenly. I finished and went up to the man to pay. 65 baht. $2.00. I gave him a few coins, and bowed.

“Come back tomorrow,” he bowed to me in return. I smiled and nodded, not wanting to explain that I was heading to Samui, but would’ve come back every day just to see him.

I cried the whole walk home. It’s hard to explain why, I just felt so moved by the man, by his gentleness and radiance. He reminded me of Thich Nhat Hanh. I wished I could be like that – centered in myself and the truth and not so swept up in the insanity of our culture.

But I wasn’t. On the van ride to the ferry, I met two young British chicks and we proceeded to get into a crazy convo about elite power structures and pedophilia. Exactly what you want to be talking about while sunning yourself on the bow of a boat in the Gulf of Thailand. But they were interested and asking questions, and I loved an open-minded audience to discuss these taboo topics with. Bring on Jimmy Saville and James Alefantis!

When we hit the Lipa Noi pier, our attention shifted to the white sand beach and palm trees. Anticipation coursed through me – Samui was my favorite place on earth, and I hadn’t been in a decade. I hurried along the dock with the girls, finding a van to Chaweng.

The island was bigger than I remembered, and much more built up. When I was 12 I’d been surprised to see a new McDonald’s and Starbucks. Now the main drag on Chaweng resembled Cabo, or something worse. This can’t all be new in 10 years, I thought as we sat in traffic. Perhaps I have selective memory. Hopefully it’ll get better.

My hotel, Samui Green, was 200 meters from the beach towards the south end. It was squeezed between a restaurant and a 7/11. How convenient. True to its name, the hallway to my room boasted several shades of green. But it didn’t evoke feelings of life and nature and energy; rather, it felt like something out of a Stephen King novel.

I understood the positive online ratings better when I got in my room. It was large and clean, with a lovely blue tiled bathroom and a balcony with a limited view. It didn’t get much natural light (or artificial for that matter), but for $40 a night it was hard to beat the location. Long gone were the days of $20 bungalow - Samui was thoroughly Westernized.

The beach, however, remained the same. The water was still the most glorious turquoise and the sand soft as butter. The air temperature hovered around 82, the sea the same. I breathed a sigh of relief as I settled into an oceanfront restaurant and ordered a curry with tofu. This isn’t so bad now.

The dish came out with chicken in it. I noticed it before I took a bite, but it still disturbed me deeply. I’d gotten use to seeing meat on other people’s plates, but having it on mine was quite another story. I shoved it away and called over the waiter to remedy the problem. It was too late to change my impression of Chaweng, though – this was clearly not my scene. I finished the mediocre curry to the relaxing sounds of Rihanna’s S&M, and quickly left.

The further north I walked down the beach, the more clubby it got, until I literally felt like I was in Vegas. In 2006 it’d been so fun and free at Akbar and Elephant Beach Club with my brother, but now it felt seedy and sad. Of course, we had been drunk, so it might’ve been that.

I kept walking until I found a small section of beach with relatively few people. The lot connected to it had somehow remained undeveloped, and I took advantage of this anomaly by practicing some yoga. Connect to the ocean, connect to the land, I tried to keep myself from spiraling into negativity. Things change, people change. Just focus on the breath.

I still felt depressed walking back to my hotel. I figured a Thai massage would sort me out, but I was wrong. So wrong. I didn’t think it was possible, but my masseuse was worse than the man in Vientiane. Not only did she repeat the same weak motion over and over, but she was coughing the entire time. I kept trying to channel the man from Surat Thani, and feel compassion for her condition, but all I could think about was getting sick. Stop being a brat, Amy. Stop being a BRAT.

For dinner I went south to Phensiri Thai Bistro. I passed the beautiful Poppy’s resort along the way. It was my mom’s favorite restaurant on the island, the place we went for a splurge when I was little. It looked exactly the same. At least there was one thing as I remembered it. I made a reservation for dinner the next night.

Phensiri was on Suan Uthit Road, across the street from thinly veiled “massage” parlours. I wanted to whisk away all the women with their painted faces and pleather skirts. Instead I sat down in the busy restaurant and tried my hardest not to cry.

I didn’t last long. When the server dropped off a small portion of steamed cauliflower and little else, not at all what I thought I had ordered, I lost it.

“Is everything okay??” my server rushed over to me.

“Oh, yes, I’m so sorry, it’s just, it’s been a long day, and it’s not quite what I was expecting,” I stumbled.

“We can get you something else, here,” she handed me the menu and grabbed the vegetables.

“Thank you so much, I really appreciate it,” I mustered a smiled. I hated sending back food (unless there was meat in it!), but right now I was grateful to have the opportunity to get something else. The drunken noodles she brought out instead were fantastic, although they didn’t stop me from crying some more on the walk home.

Maybe it was my perfectionism creating my unhappiness, or maybe it was the actual low vibration of Chaweng, either way one thing was certain – my vision of Samui as paradise had been lost. And I could either take it personally and admit defeat, or look at it as opportunity for growth, a test in letting go of the past and expectations, of accepting and moving on. I knew how the Surat Thani man would proceed – could I do the same?