Still not in phase with the EST.

So, of course we run into each other in Chaing Mai, Thailand.

The farang (Thai for ‘European-looking foreigner’) working at The Bagel Cafe says, “Menus… Do I know you?”

“John Lee?!”

“Matt Pioro.”

Turns out John came to Thailand to teach English. From that he moved on to running his own restaurant that serves declicious farang food, including bagels. How random can an encounter get?

Now I’ve got one up on Warren, who spent a good amount of time in Bangkok saying, “I can’t believe I haven’t run into anybody I know.” The score is now one to nuthin’.

Dear Warren and Agnes,

How dare you leave us stranded in Thailand!

You got us here and now you’re on some slow-boat down the Mae Kong to Laos. After your mini-bus pulled away, we found ourselves scratching our collective head, and wondering what to do next. So we flipped a coin.

You remember … it started off as a joke a few days before,

“What do you want to do?”

“I dunno.”

“What are the options?”

“We could do n—, or x—.”

“Well, I’m easy.”

“So am I.”

“Well, whatever you want.”

“Well, I don’t care.”

Someone pulled out a coin. Problem solved.

But this is serious. You guys are off now.

Agnes, with your rip-off radar gone, we’ve started paying more for things.

Warren, the loss of your masterful comic relief has left us slightly more sober.

And what happens if we get sick? You guys were our prescriber and dealer all rolled into one stuff-sack.

We took out a 10 baht coin and started talking to it.

“So Agnes, what do we want to do next?”

Heads.

“But I’m kinda tired. I don’t want to go to the temple.”

Heads.

“Okay, fine. Let’s go. I’m sure you’re right.”

“Warren, what do you think?”

Tails.

“Stop goofing around.”

“I think there’s trouble at the temple…”

We still haven’t trained the coins to say, “Let’s go!”

We miss you guys.

Sincerely,

Martha and Matt

I guess it’s a phobia.

And quite an annoying one, because I love to swim.

In bathtubs, and swimming pools, the fear usually subsides. In freshwater of any kind, the fear is there but my rational mind can usually keep it at bay.

But when I’m in salt water, I can never truely relax.

This summer, I spent a lot of time in the Mediterranean Sea. Supposedly no sharks. But when I’m swimming, every rock, other swimmer, piece of driftwood and suspicious wave is a potential shark. But again, the rational side takes over, and I have a refreshing swim ‘cause damn it’s hot in the Mediterranean in July.

And now we’re in Thailand. We spent a week on Koh Tao, a lovely little island off the east coast of Thailand. It’s a hot spot for divers because the dive schools are cheap and the sights are beautiful: coral, tropical fish, turtles, and oh yeah, sharks. Agnes and Warren, who by the way are insane, were trying their best to convince me that you have to be at a particular part of the island at a particular time to see sharks, so I shouldn’t be afaid of swimming at the beach because it’s very unlikely that we would ever see a shark there. Unlikely? I get the heeby-jeevies when it’s ‘impossible’ to see a shark. I wasn’t feeling so shit hot about ‘unlikely.’

I am compelled to tell you all, how very proud I am of myself. I did go in the water, and thouroughly enjoyed the beaches of Koh Tao, over and over again. While Warren spent 3 days getting his diving certification, Agnes, Matt and I did nothing but beach, and were all the happier for it.

Then Agnes and Warren decided it was time to go snorkelling. I thought this would be a great idea. I’ve always wanted to go snorkelling, and have never had the opportunity. Somehow, I think it might even have been me who suggested it, we decided the best place to snorkel would be the beach where the sharks come to feed between 3 and 4 pm each day. I guess something inside me decided it was time to face my fears. So we went to shark beach—clever name. On our way into the water, we met a guy coming out who had seen a few sharks, and a sea turtle, but to do so we would have to swim all the way out to the red buoy. It was at least an 800 meter swim. So, we entered the water and I was snorkelling for the first time, and totally blown away by the beauty. So many fish, and coral, and potential sharks. I was enjoying it immensely, but always on my guard. I think I got about 50 meters from the beach, and that was far enough for me. Agnes and Warren tried their best to convince me to swim out to the red buoy, but there was absolutely no way. I don’t think they grasped the enormity of my accomplishment, which was that I was swimming in waters where there were sharks only 750 meters away, and that was sooooooooooooooooooo good enough for me. I decided that I would swim just a bit further with them, and then stay behind as they made their way to certain doom. That’s when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I turned to see two HUGE fish about 2 meters from me. Of course my first thought was SHARK!, but it didn’t take me long to realize that they were barracuda. BARRACUDA! Very big barracuda. That was it for me, I made a B-line for the beach. I could hear Warren behind me, who had also seen the flesh-eating duo,

“Martha, it’s ok,”

“No it’s not!” I replied as I made a hasty retreat.

Later, on the beach, Warren told me that they were the biggest barracuda he had ever seen, but that I should remember that objects underwater are smaller than they appear, and that it’s ‘unlikely’ they would ever attack a grown up, maybe a small child, but not a full sized person.

Snorkelling was fun. I did it again the next day, and had barracuda for dinner that night.

“Dude, like, we’re having a party. It was, like, Bob Marley’s birthday, like, two days ago.”

It really had been Bob’s birthday two days ago. They marked that occasion. But that night we would hear really crappy Marley covers instead of Legend played ad nauseam. Beach culture can be so stupid.