Jorge luis Hidalgo Castellanos
Mi cuerpo resentía el golpeteo del mar mientras el “tiburón blanco” se sumergía en las aguas del golfo de Tailandia. Iba rápido hacia el sur, cerca de la costa de Ban Phe en la provincia de Rayong, una de las veinticinco que cubren la parte central del reino.
Mi cuerpo resentía el golpeteo del mar mientras el “tiburón blanco” se sumergía en las aguas del golfo de Tailandia. Iba rápido hacia el sur, cerca de la costa de Ban Phe en la provincia de Rayong, una de las veinticinco que cubren la parte central del reino.
Había dejado Bangkok temprano, alrededor de las siete de la mañana. Después de tres horas en el coche, por la carretera número 3 que va al este del país, la famosa Sukhumwit Road, llegué al pueblo costero donde me embarcaría hacia una de las islas que se encuentran en un área del golfo en forma de herradura en cuyo vértice esta la capital de Tailandia. Ban Phe está en el extremo inferior derecho de esa “u” invertida y frente a él, a unas cuantas millas náuticas y 20 minutos en lancha se ve Samet, la isla que ese día me disponía a visitar.
No me di cuenta cuando caí, lo que recuerdo muy bien es que el tiburón me recibió y atrapándome en sus fauces me introdujo en las contaminadas aguas que rodean el muelle, en cuya superficie tristemente vi flotar basura; plásticos en general. "Ello me preocupó", habría dicho después, pero la verdad es que la caída y la presencia del escuálido hicieron que olvidara la suciedad del mar e intentara respirar mientras podía, sin saber nada más de lo que pasaba. No sentí nada. El tiburón blanco nadaba llevándome consigo y yo sólo sentía el mar pasando raudo.
Isla en tailandés se dice koh, y a la que fui a parar esa mañana es una pequeña, con 6 km de largo y menos de 3 de ancho, en forma de papalote o mantarraya. La parte ancha en el norte y una larga cola que se prolonga al sur. Koh Samet es su nombre, aunque hay quien la escribe con d en lugar de t.
El escualo me dejó en una pequeña playa de arena clara con rocas oscuras a los lados. Frente a ella, conseguí ver que en la colina había unas chozas con techos tailandeses terminados en agudas puntas, semejando pagodas siamesas color café. Horas más tarde sabría que el nombre del lugar era Baan Thai Sang Thian. No recuerdo nada más, estaba exhausto y seguramente mal. Me desmayé y desperté varias horas más tarde.
Alguien de la isla me había puesto en una habitación rectangular con amplias ventanas y aire acondicionado. No escuchaba ruido, sólo el trino de los pájaros y a lo lejos, el rumor de las olas. Estaba en una cama dura aunque acolchonada, con sábanas de algodón y una manta de seda morada. Quise levantarme y no pude, caí nuevamente en el lecho y entonces vi que en la pared del cuarto había dos cuadros tailandeses, el de una bailarina y otro de un paisaje bucólico.
Una sonriente chica thai, como la de retrato, entró a la habitación con una jarra de celadón y tres cuencos de la misma porcelana. Se sentó junto a mí y me saludo con un wai, colocando las manos juntas en su pecho. Me sirvió té de jazmín y levantó mi cabeza para facilitarme beberlo. La fruta que después un muchacho trajo sirvió para recuperar fuerzas y tratar de conversar con la espigada tailandesa. Supe que me había cuidado durante casi un día mientras yo dormía y que no sabían si mi destino era este lugar, donde ahora estaba. Los farangs, como yo, no solían visitar Ao Thian.
Inevitablemente llegamos a la playa, ella entró al mar y amablemente
me invitó a seguirla. Pese al recelo inicial, después de mi reciente experiencia marítima, no pude resistir la amable sonrisa de esta nereida asiática y me metí a las cálidas aguas del golfo de Tailandia. Le sonreí también.
Después de comer padthai, curry con verduras y arroz blanco en la terraza de mi casita, la tailandesa me ofreció mango con arroz dulce glutinoso. Tenía sabor a coco y en combinación con el mango resultaba un manjar. Las aves cantaban en la jungla que nos rodeaba y los árboles prodigaban la sombra que hacía disminuir la alta temperatura del medio día. Las papayas, los plátanos y las carambolas se veían exuberantemente colgadas y al alcance de la mano. Desde la veranda, entre la maleza y otros búngalos, podía ver el mar y las olas arribando a la playa. Era paradisiaco.
Mermaids and Sharks at koh Samet (I)
By Jorge Luis Hidalgo-Castellanos
My body felt the sea beating it while the “White Shark” went into the waters of the Gulf of Thailand. It was close to Ban Phe coast in Rayong province, one out of twenty-five provinces at the central part of the kingdom and the shark was going to the south, fast.
I had left Bangkok early that day, around seven o’clock. After three hours by car, along Number 3 Highway, the one that goes to the East, the well-known Sukhumvit Road, I arrived to the coastal town where I would board to go to one of the islands located in that area of the country which had a horse-shoe shape in whose vertex Thailand’s capital city is. Ban Phe town lies at the bottom of the right side of such an upside down U, and only a few nautical miles in front of it, about 20 minutes by boat one can see Samet, the island I wanted to visit that day.
I really did not realize when I fell into the water but I remember very well that a shark caught me in its jaws and submerged me into the polluted waters of the wharf, where sadly I saw garbage floating on its surface, plastics in general. “That worried me”, I would say afterwards, but to say the truth my fall and the presence of the squalid made me forget the dirtiness of the sea and made me try to take a deep breath while I could not realize what else was happening. Neither had I felt anything. The White Shark swam speedily taking me along and I just was feeling the rapid sea currents.
In Thai language, koh means island and the one I was taken to that morning is a small piece of land only 6 kilometers long and 3 wide in a kite or manta ray shape. It has its broadest area at the north and a long and narrow tail going south. Its name is Koh Samet, sometimes written with a d at the end instead of a t.
The shark left my body on a small beach of clear sand and dark rocks at the sides. In front of that small beach I could see, atop at the hill, some cabins and Thai-style shaped roofs with long tips as brown Siamese pagodas. Sometime later I would know the name of such place: Baan Thai Sang Thian. I do not remember anything else. I was exhausted and certainly in bad conditions. Then I fainted. Some hours later I woke up.
Somebody from the island took me to a rectangular room with big Windows and air conditioner. I did not hear any noise other than the birds chirping and far away the sea waves murmur. I was laying on a hard-cushioned bed with cotton sheets and a purple silky bed cover. I wanted to stand but I could not. I fell on the mattress and then it was when I notice two pictures on the room’s wall. One picture was of a Thai dancer and another one of a bucolic view of Thailand’s countryside.
A smiling Thai girl, similar to the one at the picture, entered my room bringing a Celadon teapot and three cups made of the same Thai china. She sat near me and greeted me with a typical wai, putting the hands together on her chest touching her nose with her fingertips. She served Jasmine tea and helped me to drink it lifting my head softly. Later, a boy bought us some fruit which gave me strength to try to talk with the thin and graceful Thai girl. I was told that she took care of me for a day while I was sleeping and that nobody knew if this place, where I was now, was actually my final destination. Farangs like myself were not common visitors of Ao Thian.
We were, in a given moment, at the beach. She entered the sea and kindly invited me to follow her. Despite my initial doubt due to my recent bad experience I could not resist the pretty smile of this Asiatic nereid and I went into the warm waters of the Gulf of Thailand. I smiled too.
After eating Padthai, Curry with vegetables and White Steamed Rice at my cabin terrace, the Thai girl gave me Mango with Sticky Rice. The combination of mango with the coconut flavor of the dessert was a tasty dish. The birds of the jungle were chirping and the trees’ shade around us made the midday’s high temperature cool a bit.
Papayas, bananas and star-fruits were exuberantly hanging on their trees at hand distance. I could see from my veranda, through the tropical bushes and the bungalows, the sea and its waves splashing at the beach. It was truly, a Paradise.
The girl told me that the island is a national park with several beaches around it. We were, she said, at the one called Ao Thian. It is one of the smallest and more isolated beaches of the Koh Samet. This island is described in ”Phra Aphaimani”, a famous poem of Sunthorn Phu, a Thai writer and poet from the 19th century. Such a poem tells the story of a Siamese prince trapped by a giantess in her under water kingdom due to the fact that she is in love with him. The prince escaped to Koh Samet with the help of a beautiful mermaid.H To be continued.
Copyright 2013.
Después de comer padthai, curry con verduras y arroz blanco en la terraza de mi casita, la tailandesa me ofreció mango con arroz dulce glutinoso. Tenía sabor a coco y en combinación con el mango resultaba un manjar. Las aves cantaban en la jungla que nos rodeaba y los árboles prodigaban la sombra que hacía disminuir la alta temperatura del medio día. Las papayas, los plátanos y las carambolas se veían exuberantemente colgadas y al alcance de la mano. Desde la veranda, entre la maleza y otros búngalos, podía ver el mar y las olas arribando a la playa. Era paradisiaco.
La chica me contó que Koh Samet es un parque nacional con varias playas y que estábamos en Ao Thian una de las menores y más aisladas. La isla aparece en”Phra Aphaimani”, la obra maestra de la literatura thai escrita en el siglo XIX por Sunthorn Phu en la que narra el exilio de un príncipe siamés que escapa, con la ayuda de una bella sirena, de una gigante enamorada que lo retiene en su mundo marino.H
Continuará.
Continuará.
Copyright 2013. Texto & Fotos: Hidalgo
Mermaids and Sharks at koh Samet (I)
By Jorge Luis Hidalgo-Castellanos
My body felt the sea beating it while the “White Shark” went into the waters of the Gulf of Thailand. It was close to Ban Phe coast in Rayong province, one out of twenty-five provinces at the central part of the kingdom and the shark was going to the south, fast.
I had left Bangkok early that day, around seven o’clock. After three hours by car, along Number 3 Highway, the one that goes to the East, the well-known Sukhumvit Road, I arrived to the coastal town where I would board to go to one of the islands located in that area of the country which had a horse-shoe shape in whose vertex Thailand’s capital city is. Ban Phe town lies at the bottom of the right side of such an upside down U, and only a few nautical miles in front of it, about 20 minutes by boat one can see Samet, the island I wanted to visit that day.
I really did not realize when I fell into the water but I remember very well that a shark caught me in its jaws and submerged me into the polluted waters of the wharf, where sadly I saw garbage floating on its surface, plastics in general. “That worried me”, I would say afterwards, but to say the truth my fall and the presence of the squalid made me forget the dirtiness of the sea and made me try to take a deep breath while I could not realize what else was happening. Neither had I felt anything. The White Shark swam speedily taking me along and I just was feeling the rapid sea currents.
In Thai language, koh means island and the one I was taken to that morning is a small piece of land only 6 kilometers long and 3 wide in a kite or manta ray shape. It has its broadest area at the north and a long and narrow tail going south. Its name is Koh Samet, sometimes written with a d at the end instead of a t.
The shark left my body on a small beach of clear sand and dark rocks at the sides. In front of that small beach I could see, atop at the hill, some cabins and Thai-style shaped roofs with long tips as brown Siamese pagodas. Sometime later I would know the name of such place: Baan Thai Sang Thian. I do not remember anything else. I was exhausted and certainly in bad conditions. Then I fainted. Some hours later I woke up.
Somebody from the island took me to a rectangular room with big Windows and air conditioner. I did not hear any noise other than the birds chirping and far away the sea waves murmur. I was laying on a hard-cushioned bed with cotton sheets and a purple silky bed cover. I wanted to stand but I could not. I fell on the mattress and then it was when I notice two pictures on the room’s wall. One picture was of a Thai dancer and another one of a bucolic view of Thailand’s countryside.
A smiling Thai girl, similar to the one at the picture, entered my room bringing a Celadon teapot and three cups made of the same Thai china. She sat near me and greeted me with a typical wai, putting the hands together on her chest touching her nose with her fingertips. She served Jasmine tea and helped me to drink it lifting my head softly. Later, a boy bought us some fruit which gave me strength to try to talk with the thin and graceful Thai girl. I was told that she took care of me for a day while I was sleeping and that nobody knew if this place, where I was now, was actually my final destination. Farangs like myself were not common visitors of Ao Thian.
We were, in a given moment, at the beach. She entered the sea and kindly invited me to follow her. Despite my initial doubt due to my recent bad experience I could not resist the pretty smile of this Asiatic nereid and I went into the warm waters of the Gulf of Thailand. I smiled too.
After eating Padthai, Curry with vegetables and White Steamed Rice at my cabin terrace, the Thai girl gave me Mango with Sticky Rice. The combination of mango with the coconut flavor of the dessert was a tasty dish. The birds of the jungle were chirping and the trees’ shade around us made the midday’s high temperature cool a bit.
Papayas, bananas and star-fruits were exuberantly hanging on their trees at hand distance. I could see from my veranda, through the tropical bushes and the bungalows, the sea and its waves splashing at the beach. It was truly, a Paradise.
The girl told me that the island is a national park with several beaches around it. We were, she said, at the one called Ao Thian. It is one of the smallest and more isolated beaches of the Koh Samet. This island is described in ”Phra Aphaimani”, a famous poem of Sunthorn Phu, a Thai writer and poet from the 19th century. Such a poem tells the story of a Siamese prince trapped by a giantess in her under water kingdom due to the fact that she is in love with him. The prince escaped to Koh Samet with the help of a beautiful mermaid.H To be continued.
Copyright 2013.
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