koh phangan

I knew I made a mistake within minutes of being on Koh Phangan. Dishonest. Seedy. The central corridor was a mix of dilapidated alleyways choked with pollution. Motorists and pushy taxi drivers edged for control of the streets. Sick, yellow-eyed dogs roamed leisurely from the shadows at dusk.

I should mention here my phobia of dogs. As a child my uncontrollable fear for these lovable companions was quite acute. The paralysis had diminished in recent years, but I was still not fond of tussling with furball friends. Add the risk of rabies to the equation, and I was doing my best to avoid the three million stray dogs in Southeast Asia. I felt outnumbered.

Near my homestay, a man stopped me on the street. “I’m Charlie, your host at The Hotel Garden, hop on my motorbike.” Immediate stranger danger vibes rang in my head. Charlie had the demeanor of a fake friend – someone who smiles, laughs, and nods to appease your interests, but does not support your well-being.

I asked the stranger for my name and then when he answered incorrectly, I could not help but metaphorically roll my eyes. “I think I’ll walk the rest of the way to the hotel” I said.

Charlie scooted away.

Our interaction was incredibly awkward, but kidnapping in a foreign country was not on my to-do list. However, our exchange was not over. As I walked the three hundred meters remaining to the hotel, a pack of four dogs sprung from my left, chasing me, barking aggressively and effectively blocking the only route to my destination.

Begrudgingly, I texted the homestay’s WhatsApp number. Charlie came to pick me up, but not after first declining my initial ask. A bit petty, perhaps? We had a cordial chat about safety on our ride to the botanical cottage suite.

My two full days on the island I spent avoiding dogs and working inside. It was impossible to go anywhere fun without renting a motorbike (something I was avoiding), so I used the much-needed downtime from Koh Toa to book hotels and flights. The only place I felt completely safe was at the local food court. To get there, I had to take a longer circuitous to the main road to avoid the roaming canines that lived wild and free on side streets.

Logic told me that dogs do not like car tires, logic I used to traverse the Koh Phangan highway, while sweating like a potbelly pig roasting on black asphalt. The final dog gauntlet to the ferry contained a couple strays and one large dead rat. I was now off to Koh Samui, the next island on my Thailand itinerary.

Koh Samui

Koh Samui is a resort island that is popular with Russians on vacation. I was staying within walking distance of Fisherman’s Village, a tourist trap that was complete with tacky shrimp and salespeople. It was the Santa Monica Pier without the pier. A taxi mafia operates the island’s transportation. They charge ridiculous fees for a ride around the block. As a solo backpacker, that option was out of my budget range, so I ended up going on long walks. Long walks, in blistering humid temperatures. This mode of travel was admittedly a bit stubborn and stingy.

After a much-needed break for local Thai cuisine, one  brutal 3-mile journey on two legs got me to my goal, the Big Buddha, a towering golden statue that sits looking over Koh Samui from a breezy hilltop ridge next to the ocean. My arduous pilgrimage was complete. After visiting amore shrines, I dragged my aching feet along the long walk back to my air-conditioned room. Waking at dawn, relief washed over me as I caught a flight north over the island archipelago and landed in Chiang Mai’s Old City in northern Thailand.

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