The Tao of Ko

   OPEN YOUR EYES and open the door. Step out of your bamboo bungalow barefoot into the sand. Downbeat trance mixes with the salty sea air. You follow the music past a restaurant with only a thatched ceiling ten meters to the beach. A ribbon of white sand extends a quarter mile in either direction. The bay is dotted with longboats, fishing boats and a few dive boats a bit further out. The fishing boats look like Chinese junks, laying low in the water and rising up proudly at the bow. The hull of the boats is painted red, green and blue then a stripe of aquamarine to mirror the water.The beach is alive with activity tonight. There are no Americans playing frisbee, topless European women or men in speedos or Germans complaining about something. The farang are all congregated at the Dry Bar.
A huge, orange sun descends through the clouds, sits on the horizon for a moment, then disappears into a shallow blue sea. The orb looks artificial; the sun does not set like this wherever home is. There does not seem to be a sunrise or a sunset at home, rather, dawn deliquesces into morning and the haze of dusk dulls into night. Half a dozen young Thai men play an acrobatic game of soccer on the beach. Palm fronds demarcate the two goals and the action extends into the ocean.

Breath deep the gathering serenity.

The Dry Bar has been open for an hour, spinning a blend of downbeat trance to usher Sai Ree Beach into night. Ton is at the bar, mixing up the only piña colada I've been able to drink, as well as Red Bull Vodkas (the magic RB formula sold in Thailand is illegal in the United States), large Chang and Singha beers and buckets of Sangsom and cola. There are 20 blue and red mats on the sand, each with four pillows designed for laying back and digging your feet into the sand. A teenage Thai boy burrows into the sand, burying the tenth of 30 or so coconuts sprouting palm fronds. In front of the row of baby palm trees is a perfect glowing crater with a raised sandy rim. Inside is a thick flame dancing in the warm pacific wind. People sit with fresh drinks, joining friends, friends of friends, sharing a mat, and meeting new people. Finland, Argentina, South Africa, America, Thailand, Japan, UK, Germany - the crowd is international but everyone looks like they haven't left the beach in a few weeks. English is spoken with several dozen different accents, some sounding Rastafari, some forced and jaded, some as sexy as the girl from Tralee, Ireland, I was ready to marry.

To be in Ko Tao is to spend your days in the water and your nights at the Dry Bar. As it is almost night, I walk up to the bamboo bar and say "Sawaati dii khrap" to Ton with a smile and a nod. "Large Chang" and I hand him a 50 baht note. I look above him and see a gorgeous, hip, frenetic woman DJing. She's focused on the two records spinning below her. She's farang - a foreigner - maybe Scandinavian or Canadian or Italian - I'm still a poor judge. With one hand holding a headset to one ear, she nods her head to the beats and begins her segue into her next selection. I take my beer and walk down the sandy aisle in between the mats and tables and candles. Soft sand, hard sand, pebbles then the baptism into the warm waters of the Gulf of Thailand. The beats hang in the air - "I wish you knew how much I wish you were here right now". The candles flicker the water ripples the tree lights twinkle and I slowly turn 360° in the water. I see my six friends make their entrance into the Dry Bar. A huge bright moon rises in the east over the darkened contours of the island. Tomorrow will be the Full Moon Party, tonight a warm-up. The long day's journey into night begins.