As we were eating at the little restaurant on the beach, Meaghan looked out at the high waves on the beach that was so calm the day before and said, “I’m scared of going out there." In order to get home, we HAD to go out there- catch a long tail to the main beach to get us to a song tao that would take us to the ferry that would take us to the van. I was naïve, thought about hopping over waves in a little boat, and said, “Not me! That’s going to be so much fun!” And so, with the wind picking up, the waves getting bigger, and the sky darkening, we loaded into the long-tail with about 6 other “ferongs” (foreigners).
Let me tell you, I have NEVER contemplated my own mortality the way I did on that boat. The first few large waves were exciting, just as I had imagined- a roller coaster but free and nature-made!- but then, after about the fourth one, where our boat was literally PERPENDICULAR with the sea (friends who hadn’t left the beach yet said watching us inspired them to get a truck to the main beach instead, which is longer and quite treacherous itself), I began to think that a whole boat ride like that would kill me. Actually kill me. And I thought about this, about my life, and I pulled out a flimsy life jacket from a plastic garbage bag and strapped it around me like all the other terrified passengers were doing, knowing it probably wouldn’t keep me afloat, but that it might serve as padding against the rocks I could potentially be thrown up against in the rough sea. There were times when I clung to the unknown older gentleman next to me with every ounce of my being, completely and unconsciously, so that at the end of our journey on the boat, he patted my back and said, “I think you grew a little on this trek.”
Haha, yes, Tom (his name, I found out once we disembarked and I thanked him for his services)- I think I did.
And then I grew a little bit more when the monsoon hit the island, and we rode the song tao up and down windy, muddy and flooded one-lane roads at ridiculous speeds, clinging once again to something we had no control over as rain pelted our faces and backs. This ride, however, was still NOTHING compared to the boat.
The other night, as we recounted these events over drinks, one of our friends said, "You know, I think about how easy it is to die in this country and how many close calls I've had, and seriously, it's a miracle any foreigner ever makes it out of here alive!" And this is reason number 194 why I am not so sure a motorbike will come into my possession any time soon.
But it also made me stop and think about how much I work at "staying safe"- not getting hurt, not taking chances, and what opportunities I have missed at being able to FEEL and LEARN, or I create this padding around me, but I still fall down and get banged up anyway. Don't get me wrong- I like being safe (don't worry Mom and Dad!), I don't want to be unnecessarily frivolous always, but being made to let go... it's just made me think a little more about things is all. In the last month, I have taken more chances and let go so much more than I have in the past two years. And it just feels right.
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