 In Thailand, finding a massage is so easy you don’t even need to find one. It finds you, usually in the form of a middle-aged Thai lady interrupting your read on the beach with a price list of her little massage hut just off the sand. And if you are lucky enough to avoid being hassled out of your relaxation on the beach for a relaxing massage, then it is easy enough to find a parlour of your own. On one strip, Troy and I counted twenty-nine in a row. This number was confirmed, because each massage hut had a sign outside naming it simply “One” through “Twenty-nine”. Now Thai massage and Thai masseuses have big reputations and so, when I first decided to go for a rub, I went with very high hopes. And, by and large, it lived up to its reputation, with Troy having a “Traditional Thai” massage, while I chose the “Oil” variety. Aaaaaah. My next massage experience, however, was another story altogether. Choosing a massage parlour along the Ao Nang beachfront which looked good, I was quietly excited for the bliss that lay ahead. Even better - it had a sign out front which read: “50% off”! I chose to have a one hour foot massage for 100 Baht (US$3). Hell, I can’t think of many better things than having my feet concentrated on for an entire hour, and for only 100 Baht! So, a gentleman immediately ushered me inside, and onto a large leather chair. He then knelt in front of me and began washing my feet, and I suddenly realized that this was THE MAN – my pleasure-provider for the next sixty minutes. Now, I’ve never had a male masseuse so was caught a little off-guard. Nevertheless, I tried to relax and forget about the fact that a strange man was now going to rub oil into my un-shaven legs and lift them into all manner of strange positions while I wore nothing but my little sun dress and panties. However, as he began my “Relax Foot Massage” he soon made it quite clear that it wasn’t relaxation he had in mind for me at all. It began soon after he started rubbing my feet with: “You sure you don’t want to have reflexology? Much better for insides.” I politely refused, knowing that reflexology wasn’t as relaxing as a regular foot rub. But he persisted: “Only an extra 50 Baht today. Much better, reflexology. Good for health.” Again I refused, and again he looked up at me to tell me: “Only 50 Baht extra”, just in case I hadn’t heard him the first or second time. I refused once more, less politely this time, and pretended to be asleep – though now I was actually feeling more stressed out than before, and wondering how much more I would have to fight to relax. For goodness’ sake, if they don’t want someone to have the Relax Foot Massage - that was the name on the board: RELAX foot massage (pronounced “Lelak”) then they shouldn’t offer it. So, quietly trying to forget who was giving me the lelak foot massage, eventually I feel him beginning to rub, and my body finally beginning to loosen up. Aaah. Until, just as I’m really blissing out, he tells me my feet are too hard and I ‘need’ a scrub for only 100 Baht. “No thanks”, I reply softly, everything is fine. And then of course we had to argue for the next ten minutes about how fine my feet did or didn’t feel. Until I was finally allowed to accept my own feet, and he started to rub them again. But that was another ten minutes of my allotted sixty out the window. Again. Anyway, aaah… Until he looked up at me and said: “For extra 50 Baht, you have reflexology. Better for you.” And so the most un-relaxing massage continued for the next thirty minutes, and then it was actually quite nice, and once it was almost over I was even beginning to feel a bit like a marshmallow in hot chocolate. Aaaah. And then he said: “You need pedicure. Only 50 Baht today.” Aaaaarggggh! I had the sudden urge to put my newly shining, oiled feet against his face. Hard. But, I did learn something from all of this. Thai people love, love, love to sell you stuff. Sometimes it appears to be more of a hobby than a job. And I have also since learned that Thai culture genuinely dislikes dirty or unkempt feet and hands, and so manicures, pedicures and foot scrubs are most commonly pushed on you. But, in their minds, they’re often genuinely trying to help. Anyway, a week later I braved my third Thai massage on the beach. It was lovely. I paid full price. Anyone traveling to Thailand is obliged to experience a Thai massage in its natural habitat. It involves a lot of leg work and a lot of twisting, pulling and pushing various body parts. Expect to have your back (and maybe even forehead, chest and elbows too) clicked several times. Three months later, I am now a Thai massage connesieur and highly recommend Thai foot massage (when it’s done properly, at full price). Every tiny bone in your foot is clicked and popped, and you walk away feeling as though your whole body was massaged. Afterwards you are served hot tea, if at a massage parlour, and fruit if you are having it done on the beach.
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| I don’t remember how old I was when I saw it – certainly under ten – and I don’t even remember where, but I’ll never forget the picture that inspired me to become a SCUBA diver.
A man (at least I think it was a man inside his bulky black suit) lay atop an enormous creature with massive pointy wings, the small soft eyes of an elephant, and huge curved protrusions on either side of its formidably sized mouth. The cosmonaut appeared to be holding onto the front of the alien’s head as together they glided effortlessly through space.
But this was no alien invention, and certainly not in space. This thing lived under the ocean, with photographic evidence to prove it. This was a manta ray: nine metres wide, 1 400 kg in weight, and completely harmless to all except microscopic plankton and tiny crustaceans.
I was captivated. And so for the next decade or so, I played with my submariner Action Man, practised holding my breath underwater, and generally dreamed and wished that someday I too would get to frolic with this gentle giant of the sea. At nineteen and attending university, I even put some beer money aside, fixed a broken diving mask with a wire coathanger (which I still own) and did my Openwater diving course in preparation.
Sixteen years on, and now having advanced all the way through the PADI system to instructor level and with literally thousands of dives under my weightbelt, I had experienced some of the most fascinating, beautiful, huge, scary, foreign, colourful, adventurous stuff underwater it was possible for any human being to experience. But my childhood dream of diving with mantas continued to elude me.
Until last week, at two tiny rock pinnacles far out to sea off the west coast of Thailand.
As the boat approaches Hin Daeng (Red Rock) and Hin Muang (Purple Rock) all you can see are three naked, rock-looking rocks barely breaking the water’s surface – hardly the place you’d expect to meet one of the legends of the sea on a mid-week morning.
Beneath the surface, however, is a whole different picture. Covered in red and purple soft corals and anemones (giving the rocks their name) and with walls dropping off out of sight – almost impossibly - in this crystal clear water, you realize that creatures famed for dancing like giant ballerinas must indeed be creatures of impeccable taste.
This is diving at its exquisite best, with cathedral-like rock formations, colours of every description enveloping you from almost every direction, and hunting schools of tuna and barracuda herding thick clouds of tiny fish. A diver’s wet dream.
And so I was caught sleeping my wonderful underwater sleep when I was taken completely by surprise by Battlestar Gallactica and a squadron of its finest finned escorts, as they entered my reality from out of the deep.
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Any diver worth his salt will admit there’s always a moment between first seeing the shape of something really big underwater, and actually recognising what it is, when you quite simply freeze in terror. And so I caught myself light-headed and hyperventilating (even the hardly-breathed bubbles from my regulator seemed to be climbing over each over my cheeks in their haste to clamber to the surface) as the beast appeared. And what a beast it was. Calculating how many of me (in my fin-packaged feet) I would need to span its width, I guess this manta was about five metres wide, and each remora and cobe fish in its company at least a metre to a metre-and-a-half long. But as it continued toward me on its collision course, I soon realized that this envoy was on a mission of peace. It only lasted a few seconds (before, tilting its wings and barely missing my head, it disappeared once more into the deep) but this was just the starter course in my giant seafood feast. Hitting the water on dive two, we practically descended on top of three mantas, ranging in size from perhaps three to five metres wide. And so we played with them for the next sixty minutes. Swam alongside them. Under them. Over them. Watched them whirl and swirl and dance and play, while they watched us. Practically begging our bodies to process air more efficiently, we stayed down as long as our supply would allow. And then we surfaced, and it was over. But, of course, it wasn’t. The euphoria on the boat ride home is difficult to describe (picture a lot of people smiling and laughing and joking a lot). And I still see them as I close my eyes at night before sleep. And so a boy’s dream to ride mantas was fulfilled. True, I hadn’t really ridden, or even touched them (environmental learning since the 70’s has taught us not to do such things) but I certainly felt like I had been touched. And in the most beautiful way. Hin Daeng and Hin Muang are accessible by speedboat and charter boat from Ao Nang, Koh Lanta and Koh Phi Phi, and manta season is from December to February. Speak to a local dive shop for more information. In Ao Nang, Scuba Addicts (a highly professional operation) offers trips all inclusive for 6 000 Baht.
On 24th November, Thailand shut down. Hotels stopped taking bookings, boat ferry and bus schedules took a back seat, and restaurants turned into nightclubs as the country celebrated its annual Loy Krathong festival. Paying homage to the water spirits, on the night of the full moon in the eleventh lunar month, people all over Thailand launch beautifully decorated candle lit banana leaf boats, or ‘krathong’, in ponds, rivers, seas and waterways, when rivers and canals are at their highest. We were fortunate enough to witness the celebrations in Krabi province’s town of Ao Nang, where we have been living for the past five weeks, but were left wondering what all the fuss was about. Festivities began at 3pm with the town’s main road being barricaded at both ends, much to the dismay of those wishing to get home to their families in the stifling heat. But as brilliantly decorated floats began to take their place on the newly freed-up road (and beer bottles started emptying) tempers eased. A giant stage had been erected outside McDonald’s (with 7 Eleven, proud sponsors of one of Thailand’s most auspicious occasions) and by late afternoon crowds of people had already begun to gather around the American hamburger icon, anticipating a show of some kind. Along the beach front, two songs about Loy Krathong played in a never-ending loop over a crackly loudspeaker. Lyrics included the phrase “Loy Krathong” (and little else) belted out by a Thai singer accompanied by what sounded like bad 1980’s pop rock. We decided to escape the madness (and ceaseless “Loy Krathong, Loy Krathong”) by heading to a quiet(er) corner of the beach for sunset, fruit, papaya salad and Thai beer. Here, and perhaps only here, we witnessed the true spirit of the festival, with Thai families spending time together and releasing their home-made krathong into the ocean before the masses descended. Under a now moonlit sky, children played soccer on the beach, laughed, and played in the waves. A beautiful and touching sight. And then the usual commercial BS began. As we made our way up the beach towards the main drag after dinner, we were soon surrounded by salesmen shouting out prices to us for the mass-produced paper lanterns and krathong they had piled up next to them. We decided not to launch our own boat after all that, but watched as hundreds of people (both Thai and “Farang” - the affectionate Thai word for ‘foreigner’) released lanterns and krathong into the sea. Quite lovely, even with American country and western music (?) blaring out over the sound system.  Up at the stage, fireworks exploded around a swollen full moon, the dense crowd chattering in high spirits, waiting for things to get going. During the evening we were treated to the finals of the ‘Miss Loy Krathong Ao Nang’ beauty pageant (which had started earlier that day), some traditional Thai and Indian-inspired dancing, fire throwing, and – by far our favourite act - young Thai boys doing a hula-inspired number wearing glitzy make-up, and performing lots of worryingly-enthusiastic chest shimmies and hip shakes. Lady boys in the making. Very interesting. We retired after the dancing, partially from fatigue and partially out of fear of the enormous crowd – now instructed to walk together to the beach to let out their krathong. From what we hear from friends, the evening turned silly, and crazy and fun and mad. We, on the other hand, had a good nights sleep to prepare for a lazy day ahead.
 When one thinks of Thailand, one usually thinks of pristine white beaches, postcard blue skies, and limestone cliffs plummeting into the sea. And if you come to Thailand, this is really what you will see. In the right places. And at the right time of year.
In reality, Thailand’s beaches are far more diverse than just pure white sand. Some are rocky, the sand on others is mostly a brownish colour and made of pebbles and shells, and the sea surrounding most of Thailand’s coast is seldom turqouise and glass flat.
Beaches are beautiful here, very beautiful, but a completely different kind of beautiful to the pictures of Thailand in all the brochures. Not that the colour or texture of the sand really matters too much in high tourist season, because you don’t see too much of it between all the sun-soakers. Or sellers beating up and down upon it, endlessly and ceaselessly begging your attention.
Another thing they never show you in brochures is the enormous amount of litter in Thailand. While snorkeling it’s not uncommon to spot the abundant “Red and White-Striped Coke Can”, or the slightly less common “Blue and Yellow-Spotted Crisp Packet”, not to mention the prolific “Kuk Drinking Water Bottle” in amongst the (thankfully still living) corals. And broken glass and rusted tins can be an obstacle for bare feet.
Yes, and sorry ladies and gentlemen, but in the opinion of this humble traveler who is now on his third visit since 1999, Thailand’s halcyon days are over. Too many chefs in this broth. With more than six million tourists per year now (one English newspaper recently labeled Thailand’s Krabi province as the world’s third most visited tourist destination) it’s all about cramming them in and raking up the cash.
Sure, the natural beauty’s still there, and the massages are great, but you’ve just got to look that little bit harder, and pay a lot more money, to find them.
Backpackers not welcome.
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PERSONAL PROFILE
 Troy Wade The last couple of years have found me in Cape Town, spending most of my time lecturing in Conceptual Thinking, Strategic Planning and Copywriting at both the Cape Peninsula University of Technology and at the AAA School of Advertising. I love my job, especially for the time it gives me to entertain some of my other loves. Like travel and exploration. I have now seen some 25 countries in little over a decade, lived and worked in Taiwan and Mozambique, and have been a member of two incredible expeditions – one with Kingsley Holgate, the other sponsored by Barclay’s Bank for UNICEF. Another great love I have is for SCUBA diving, which explains why I now find myself - during my current break from lecturing - living for four months with Fiona (my love) in Ao Nang, Thailand, working as a SCUBA instructor. I always swore I would never visit the same place twice on my travels, but this is my third visit to “The Land of Smile”.  Fiona HeronI’m glad I make it onto Troy’s long list of loves, but probably only because I am a new SCUBA addict myself! I am also a professional beach lounger, massage tester, and camera button-pusher. While Troy is out at sea most of the time, I experience daily land-living in Thailand. And I like blogging too.
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