The Cow and the Crane (and the goats and the ocean)

น่าสนุกดี  naaF saL nookL deeM  [noun] 

Essentially a translation of when someone watched me properly eat fried fish and boiled egg and chili paste with my hands

and conveyed, as far as my friend translated after a few beers and sips of homemade whiskey..

"It feels good inside when I talk to you."

Now, that is quite the most hopelessly romantic thing a very youthful looking 65 year-old man has said to me, but even moreso the highest compliment I've ever heard a farang receive.

Now I have spent far too long in the city having far too much fun, but this streak was interrupted these past three weekends when I found myself miles south elbows-deep in cow farms and backroads to waterfalls and ponds and secret gardens.

I began going to a friend's family home in Prachuap Khirikan, near Hua Hin. This trip was the first time I had seen ocean since I left California back in July. That absence has been painstaking, as I spent my last couple months in California pulling over on any road that bordered the ocean so I could sneak a quick dip as much as I could before heading East. I was beyond excited to see what Southern Thailand water was like, let alone enjoy homemade food and be around a family.




We slept on a floor mat and woke up to birds, roosters, cows, humidity, babies, and a cat purring near my face. It was the most preferred alarm clock at 7:30 am, truly. We walked to a nearby creek and collected Morning Glory, made friends with a perfectly colored cow, drove motorbikes down roads with more green than cement, and ate a noodle & pork porridge with coffee.



We went to the Burmese border and almost went broke in antique stores and danced to John Denver with storeshop owners while sipping dark coffee.

We followed fearless children down dirt roads in Thai sarongs into ponds hiding rumored crocodiles. They all taught me how to tie the wrap into a dress that will trap air bubbles and help me float and I let them paint my face with burmese powder whenever they thought I needed to cool down. The babies called me Calcium instead of Cassian and I preferred it. We ran into the pineapple fields lined with banana trees and did everything but take naps, watching the children gather pineapple and coconuts while I tripped over after them. We sang to corn seeds we planted barefoot while the brothers worked the land, laughing at my attempt to help while listening diligently to the requests of their sister.









We visited family and helped them make coconut and banana desserts and spoke in broken sentences and ate boiling hot bowls of soup. We went to the city and saw old old friends and played with their kids and shooed monkeys away from them and watched their eyelids droop as the adults ate kilos of crab caught nearby. We ate meals with our hands and made sure mother knew how much we loved her chili paste. The second best compliment to receive from a Thai is that they are impressed you can eat their food. My palette will never be the same without these foreign flavors. 

Achieving a re-lived sense of place and home and comfort would be close to how I felt here. 

The past week, for work reasons, I traveled down south once again to Koh Samui followed by Koh Phangan, the weekends being my solo travel time. I was pretty anxious about the solo traveling part and was just really stressed about how I could best tackle exploring these foreign islands efficiently while also being mindful of my vulnerability as a young woman traveling alone. 

Lets just say, everything went well in every way possible.

I began my adventure wandering about the alleyways lit by flashing neon lights and the beach flooded with dancers and Thai boys spinning fire. I woke up the next day and flagged down a motorcycle taxi and told him to take me around the island for an agreed price of $24. We went to a waterfall that was more memorable for the terrorized, chained elephants that were swaying and showing clear signs of distress and I spend most of my time there crying until Fay, my driver, took me away into foggy mountains to a secret garden. We headed to a butterfly garden that was simply overpriced but the pad thai wasn't so two Thai women served me a delicious $2 plate of food as I hydrated. I spent the night following around a generous group of people who showed me an all-Thai bar and were never too tired to smoke more hookah.




Rested, revived, and ready to see more island, I rented a motorbike for $6 and headed to the farthest point on the island, around curvy roads, stopping wherever I felt like. For 20 minutes, I stopped in a crystal bay and swam. As I left, I felt increasingly more independent and accomplished, then I locked my keys in my bike seat. I very quickly realized how stoppable I really am and recruited a cop to help me get back on the road.



My goal was to get to Ban Thong before sunset. I had no idea what was there, I just knew there was a beach. I got lost, stopped for photos, all occurring in perfect timing, just like when my stopping on the side of the road was at the exact moment a water buffalo was being towed in. These beautiful beasts....



When I made it to Ban Thong, a short street lined with fishing boats and cafes, I began a search for food but ended up walking into the empty home of a mother and grandmother who had no idea what I wanted and instead made me the best shrimp curry I had in awhile. This was a good moment. It was silent except for small laps of waves and the sun was just riping into a golden yellow over the water. In the distance you saw stubs of unknown islands that I was sure hosted sights different from eachothers'

I ended the day eating a large Indian meal with new friends and prepping for the work week. 

Working in sustainability is rewarding and innovative and touches all aspects of operations. I got a large dose of goats and saw sunsets that command the world's attention for a few moments. 

Perfect timing for things, to me, are a good omen that things are going exactly how they're supposed to. When we got to Big Buddha, women in beautiful dresses came to catch a morning prayer, making one of the most Thai photos I've ever taken. 

The week ended and I caught a late ferry to Koh Phangan. Without intending to attend, that was the night of the infamous Full Moon Party: a monthly night of pure mayhem and dancing and BUCKETS being shared between thousands of global citizens waiting for the sun to come up, passing the time by playing with fire (literally). I made some friendships with expats and, needless to say, watched the sun come up. No need to go further into the night swims, bartendings, dogs, or limbo fire-burns that occurred...

After four hours of sleep and quick breakie and call to Mom, I moved to Mae Haad Cove, a little getaway on the northern part of the island, back behind forests of palm leaves and hidden towns. Nestled in my bungalow and baptized in clearer, warmer water, I found what I had been looking for. Finally, in my heavens away from city noise. We didn't wear shoes, we talked about life, and I met the most peculiar people I could've never thought up myself. The owner of the bungalows saw to it that I was fed well and I chased the sunset in a kayak and was not disappointed with her performance. 



Sunburnt, salty, and late for my ferry, I said goodbye to Mae Haad and all the dogs I wish I could bring home and prayed that if I forget anything, let it not be this place. 

The countryside, the ocean view, the novelty and undiscovered-ness of a new land makes all my gears kick into place and I feel my most self. For these mini escapes to nature are the kind of dessert I go starving for and more importantly the reward of survival + success is incomparable to the feeling of accomplishment and independence and self-sufficiency and validation belonging to no one but myself. I feel joy coming out of my pores and as if my heart isn't big enough to fully understand or appreciate the loveliness of this week.




I thought Thailand and I were like the Cow and the Crane, an unlikely but formidable pair, unforeseen but unstoppable. A land I didn't know I would find myself in, far away from the places I know best. But just like Thailand, I must have some undiscovered corners too.

Also, after a hiatus from poetry,...my insides have soaked long enough in rain of Thailand's wet season and God's blessings and have begun to soften. There could be something in the water, it could be an overload of sunshine and perhaps too much spice, but I get a little dizzy everytime I see the ocean my inside churn and poetry oozes out. 

Hello lost lover,

My, how time has gotten away.

Have you gotten enough sleep

Have you eaten today?

Have you felt the blessings on you

That I ask for when I pray

Or feel the kisses in the wind

Sent from far away?

Has the sun warmed your face?

Is the sky the only thing blue?

Have you explored more corners

That are nestled between me and you?

Know that you are loved

That statement's truer than true.

And how you will rise and succeed

No matter what you go through.

For now, feel the sun on your face

Swim in the deep ocean blue.

So long lost lover,

I’ll never forget about you.

The world is round, but all the best places are in its corners