161. | On two wheels, day and night

A week ago I rented a motorbike for the third time – and for the last time for a while – here in Koh Samui.

It was a beautiful Saturday, because the rainy season had apparently forgotten its duty and the sky had been shining for days. Since I had a program for Sunday evening, late and about seven kilometers from here, I decided to rent the motorbike the day before, which would accompany me.

Saturday: China and Moon Day

My Saturday stroll had no particular purpose: I simply wanted to ride one last time before leaving this island. The red motorbike took me wherever it wanted, and I let it take me.

That’s how I found a Chinese temple.

This temple was in a bustling part of town, surrounded by all kinds of shops. Yet it was cozy and peaceful. There was not a single soul in the temple grounds except me. In the sunshine, in the embrace of the trees surrounding the area, I would have liked to lie down under one of the trees and simply look at the sky.

Of course, I didn’t do that, because someone might have called an ambulance for me. So I simply enjoyed the ten minutes I spent there resting.

Then I moved on. After two hours of aimless wandering, I came home, took care of a few things, and then set off again late in the evening.

The sky is beautiful at night too

Night riding has a completely different atmosphere: the air is cooler, the island is quieter, the roar of the engine is almost meditative.

I made another long trip, visiting more distant places. I visited the now familiar Wat Sila Ngu temple, which I have mentioned several times, e.g. in the post “My first long walk in the tropics”.

I made a few videos, mostly useless, because the phone holder enjoyed the shaking more than the stable image. The first shot turned out good, I was still holding it in my hand – but then I chose safety.

The moon enchanted me that day too. I hope the pictures give back some of what I experienced there, that night.

Sunday: Open taps at the waterfall

The next day I headed to Na Muang Waterfall 1, which I wrote about in my article “Best of Samui and the dry waterfalls”.

I was hoping that this time there would finally be water. And there was. Plenty of it. The waterfall came to life, roaring, falling, moving, and was full of people. Strangely enough, this didn’t bother me at all. The many joyful sounds only made the place even more alive.

I also ran into a nice mixed family and we exchanged a few sentences: a European father, a Thai mother, and two smiling little girls who had sent me a Wai at their mother’s request. As they stood there, I remembered my daughters from fifteen years ago. Heartwarming memories mingled with the warmth of the tropical sun.

I climbed up to the well-known rock, took a photo of the waterfall, and then found a quiet place right next to the water and meditated. The rhythm of the gushing water was the perfect backdrop. Then I sat down and just watched the falling water, its elegance, its lightness. The joy of everyone around me somehow rubbed off on me.

When a few people jumped into the small pool under the waterfall, I didn’t think much of it. I followed them. The water was cool, invigorating, and swimming under the rushing water felt like my world was weightless for a moment.

The sea called me

I continued on, and on a road I had walked many times before, I suddenly saw a huge Chinese statue. I don’t know how I hadn’t noticed it before. The monumental figure of Guan Yu stood before me. I read the black marble plaque – in Thai, Chinese, English. It was a dignified place.

I wanted to go up to the top, but it wouldn’t have been appropriate in shorts. They might have let me, but the thought quickly faded. It felt better to leave like this: to pay my respects to the place and the memory.

As I turned, I noticed a small, quiet bay across the road. I decided to drink my afternoon iced coffee there, then go home to work. But it turned out differently. Over the coffee, a voice inside me suddenly spoke: “You can’t leave this island without taking a bath in the sea. Take a bath here!”

A minute later I was in the water. The sea was warm, soft, caressing. I lay on top of the water and let the wind and waves take me wherever they wanted. Total freedom: literally.

Two days of farewell

These two days somehow carried everything that this island gave me. The light and the dark, the noise and the silence, the roaring water and the calm of the sea. I can’t get tired of writing: I enjoyed every minute of it. I am grateful that I get days like this.

My Sunday is not over yet. But that will be the story of the next post…