tl;dr: I don’t like making concrete plans when I travel, preferring to sketch out a plan and letting the details fall into place on the fly.
I started traveling relatively late. My first trip abroad (not counting excursions to Canada – no offense intended to my many wonderful Canuckistani friends) was in 1998. I was 30. Shameful, I know, but my youth was misspent in ways other than itinerant backpacking around Europe.
After a year or so of contracting at Microsoft, I realized that I could reasonably afford to travel for a spell without worrying about whether I’d still have a home upon my return. I first considered a trip to Europe, but realized pretty quickly that I wanted to go for something less familiar. I decided to go to Thailand for a month by myself. I was (and still am, after four trips) fascinated by Thailand and SE Asia, and was intrigued by the concept of my first trip abroad being a country that is ~95% Buddhist. I expected it would fry my circuits a bit, and I was OK with that.
So I bought a R/T ticket. I had an arrival date and a departure date. Through friendships forged while I lived on Orcas Island, I had a reservation at a guesthouse in Bangkok called Shanti Lodge, which sounded to me like some magical oasis in the heart of one of SE Asia’s most dense and chaotic cities (turns out, it was and still is exactly that). I had a vague idea based on my readings that I wanted to go to Koh Phangan, an island in the Gulf of Thailand, off the east coast of the long tail of the southern portion of the country. I had no more concrete plans than this.
The morning after I arrived in BKK, I met a delightful German couple who were on their last 36 hours of their trip to Thailand. I was fresh and green and had no clue what the hell was going on around me. We hit it off, and spent most of the remaining waking hours before they returned to Germany wandering Bangkok together.
The next evening, after they left, I found a new adventure. Anthea, a cute British woman staying at Shanti, was headed to Khao San Road with friends for drinks and socializing. At this point, I don’t remember if she invited me or I invited myself, but no matter: I found myself on Squalid Backpacker St, beer in face, munching on dried cuttlefish, fried crickets and grubs, flirting mercilessly and soaking in the hot, humid culture. Over the course of the evening, I mentioned to Anthea that I was headed towards Koh Phangan, and she said “You must go to Thong Nai Pan – it is the BEST beach on the island.” With that sort of recommendation, where else could I go?
A few days later, after a night train ride with its own stories and a passenger ferry that was more than a little skittish-making, I found myself on Koh Phangan. I got my bearings, found a ‘taxi’ (actually a small Toyota pickup with lining the sides of the bed) pointed to Thong Nai Pan, and hopped in along with three other passengers. I chatted a while with two of them – a brother-sister pair from North Carolina, then we all settled into silence for most of the remaining ride up and over the spine of the island. Eventually, I struck up a conversation with our remaining passenger, who clearly understood the lay of the land here much more – he was wearing a sarong, didn’t have a massive backpack, and just seemed … mellow. Turns out he was also a Stuart – a choreographer in Sydney for half the year, Thai beach resident the remainder – and on the return trip from the Malay border for a visa run. He asked if I knew where I was staying, and when I confessed that I didn’t he just said “Come with me.” He dragged me to his favorite “resort” on the beach, a cluster of a dozen or so bungalows with a bed and mosquito net and a bathroom. For five dollars a day. Thirty steps from the beach. I decided that this would be just fine.
I’d “planned” to stay on Koh Phangan for four or five days. Suffice to say, I stayed for ten – and the only reason I left was because Anthea, the cute British girl from Shanti, was going to be in Phuket soon, and I was at least a little smitten.
So then, off to Phuket! I had a phone number in my notes, for Kim and Apichart (the owners of Shanti Lodge, who I had briefly met while living on Orcas – which is a story unto itself). I called and spoke to Kim, relaying the close mutual friend we had, and she basically said “So, do you want to meet for dinner and get your bearings, or would you like to come stay at our place?” Of course, I opted for the latter! I ended up there for another ten days or so, spending time with Kim and Apichart and their delightful children, and with Anthea, who arrived a day or two after me. I thought about heading elsewhere, but decided that was foolish. I only left when my flight home drew close, in order to give myself enough time to wrap up details on a suit I was having made.
This trip – my first time really traveling – helped me realize that I like having loose, flexible travel plans. I’ve done my best to continue living this travel philosophy since this trip, whether traveling solo or with a partner. I fully intend to keep as flexible as possible while on my upcoming adventure.