Me & Buddha, We Got A Good Thing Goin' On

Sorry folks, Blogger was being a bitch yesterday. So, my pilgrimage to Big Buddha continues here:

I got to the Buddha, walked up the stairs, took off my shoes as required, and walked around. I was regarded a bit suspiciously by the Chinese dude who was handing out incense and other prayer accessories, until I bowed to him. That got a big smile, and I no longer felt like he was going to accuse my ancestors of killing his God too.

I also, just to be sure to get on Buddha's good side, gave a 20 Baht donation, placed in one of the many receptacles placed all around the site. I then descended the steps, and came across the sign pictured above. And of course I wanted my trip to the Buddha to become part of the lore of the island of Koh Samui. Now, I would gladly have given another 20 Baht donation; 20 baht is roughly 50 cents. Except I had already given my last small bill to the other donation trough. I faced a dilemma. Would other people, or worse, Buddha himself, see me fill out a brick and place it on the pile, seemingly without donating the requested funds? How bullshit would, "But I already donated over there" sound if I were confronted? Looking back, I could have sucked it up and put in a 500 Baht note - it's $12.50, and I'm sure the Buddhists could use it (perhaps have some robes custom tailored by the fucking ripoff artist I gave away my money to in Singapore?). But I convinced myself that my 20 Baht donation was sufficient, even if I put it in a different receptacle. And I filled out a brick as pictured above, put it on the pile, and left the Buddha grounds. I'm OK, right?

Bought a DVD copy of "The Ring 2" to hopefully watch on one of my future plane rides. If it works. It cost 150 Baht. As I was leaving the area surrounding the Buddha, I was ready to head for home (Lamai, not NY). As I was walking out, what noise should I hear, but "Taxi, sir?" Now, there was a red and yellow Toyota taxi parked nearby. He could have been offering me an air-conditioned ride home in an enclosed, 4-wheeled vehicle. But he was also wearing the telltale vest of the motorbike taxi guy. And I went with him anyway. My pledge never to ride a motorbike taxi again lasted about 47 minutes. As I'm headed back pressed up against this sweaty Thai man, I started thinking how utterly stupid it was for me to do that again. My luck might not hold up for the 15K or so back to Lamai. And, oh my god, Buddha might be watching from his lofty perch, thinking, "Ah, what a perfect way to punish that asshole who stole one of my bricks!" Not good. So I had the guy switch destinations, and take me to Chaweng instead. Another beach stretch which was closer to the Buddha, and which I hadn't checked out yet. I paid him the original quoted fare for Lamai, and tipped him. I'm a generous guy, Big B, I swear.

Chaweng seemed pretty much like Lamai, but appeared to have nicer hotels, and there were more cute white chicks. Damnit - I picked wrong again. Took a regular taxi back, and was gouged again. Apparently the "Meter" the taxi claims to have is a reference to the speedometer, and the drivers make up their fares as they go along.

Decided my afternoon would consist of lunch and a massage. Massage first. So I walked down the beach a bit. There are a bunch of beachside massage places, and I chose one that didn't seem attached to a particular resort. I guess I should have seen it as a bad sign when I had to wake up the masseuse from a sound sleep in her hammock. But she seemed nice, and was not attractive, which I viewed as a plus in this particular situation (though any thoughts of a "happy ending" would have gone out the window when she broke out what smelled like Vicks Vapo-Rub anyway). And so we began. This woman bent me in ways I was positive my body didn't go, using her hands, feet, knees; I never knew that having someone dig her elbows into your ass could feel so good. I was relaxed. Chillin'. And then, Hurricane Surinamathaporn struck. The rain wasn't so bad. It's hot out, I was under an umbrella, and it wasn't what I'd call torrential. The winds, however, blew all kinds of shit at me. Including a huge coconut that landed -- no exaggeration -- maybe 8 inches from my head. B, we discussed this: I DID make the donation. I'm not quite ready to be reincarnated just yet, so cut me a break, OK?

Wind died down, rain stopped, massage continued, and then the inevitable. My Masseuse asked me "You come here alone?" And that was when I noticed the other girl, sitting in a chair next to the massage table. Wearing some sparkly gold tank top, denim skirt, big sunglasses, and I believe flip flops with heels. Here it was, my masseuse was pimpin'. I, again, explained that I was just here to chill on the beach, and was not in need of a lady of the evening for the evening. Is nothing sacred? If I can't just enjoy a stranger kneading my near-naked body for $5/hr without someone assuming I'm your Average John (now that's an idea for a reality show), something ain't right.

The rain came back as I walked into town for lunch. I first stopped to pick up a new pair of sandals. Much as I loved spreading free advertising for In N Out Burger across Asia, that thing between my toes was killing me. Those were relics from a prior phase of my life anyway. So, I spent $6 on a pair of Teva-like sandals with a Diesel tag on them. I'm so damned fashionable.

Had lunch at the Shamrock Samui, an Irish pub which was clearly very recently established. Run by some authentic-looking and sounding folks (though I thought British, rather than Irish). I ordered a Guinness, and right before he opened it for me, the guy said "I should warn you, we have to pay so much to get these in here, that they're 220 a piece." Now, that is 4X as much a s any other beer I drank on Samui. But it's also cheaper than any Guinness I've ever had in NY. So it evens out. Ordered a burger, and the guy asked if I wanted vinegar for my fries. Fuck yeah! He brought me white vinegar. The kind you use to clean floors. It was then I realized that the proprietors were neither Irish nor British, but just Thais who had hired the same makeup artist who did Eddie Murphy in the "White Like Me" sketch. No self-respecting Brit or Irelander would bring anything other than Malt vinegar. So I used some sauce with no english on it instead. Probably duck blood.

Then back to hotel, where I confirmed that a cab would be there to take me to the airport the next morning. I also had them promise to send someone to wake me up at 7:30. Because there was no clock or phone in my room, and I had looked in many many stores for a travel alarm clock, all for naught.

Typing killing me. Will finish Samui and hopefully do some Bangkok later or tomorrow.