Losing It All on Koh Phi Phi

Leaving the lights and the vibrations of the house music behind me I wander as far down the beach as I can, searching for a single gasp of the isolation that strangely fulfills me. In a dark corner of the beach I enter the blackened midnight of the once vibrant ocean and let the great darkness envelope me. Frolicking around underwater for a few minutes, and then floating in solitude, only the distant thumping of the bass belies the serenity of the empty sea.

I finish my swim, refueled with life and desire, and head back to the shore, only to wonder where my clothes and bag have gone. Did I swim back to the wrong part of the beach? Surely no one came to steal not just my belongings but all my clothes as well? Perhaps it’s some kind of prank? Frantic, I begin combing the sand from the pulsating party back to the depths of darkness. There is nothing. No bag, no clothes. Usually on a night out I would bring with me a minimal amount of cash and a pack of cigarettes at the most. But this night I had not thought. I had come straight to the beach and my bag had not only five thousand baht, but my glasses, my whole wallet, my debit card, my room key, my brand new iPod, and most importantly, my beloved journal. Did I remember to take my passport out? I had no idea. Too accustomed to the trustworthiness of life on Tioman I had committed the ultimate carelessness and let myself get robbed in a country I knew I was not to trust.

The two boys I had been casually entertaining at the bar find me helplessly scouring the sand in the impossible darkness and kindly offer to help. But despite a flashlight and all our best efforts, there is no hope. Back at the bars in nothing but my bikini I let the alcohol assuage every modicum of fear or worry in me. I tell myself it will be alright because it has to be. Perhaps someone found it and is going to turn it in. Perhaps the tide had gone out and my stuff is further up the beach than I thought. I know it isn’t true but I think it anyway.

Clinging to foolish hope and my uncanny ability to disregard the obvious, I refuse to admit the inevitable truth that I have lost almost everything I own. Instead I dive straight into the bottle as if I might find my bag at the bottom. Everything today, the bitter isolation coupled with the strange yearning to be even more alone, evaporates. I have lost everything at once but feel nothing. I am voracious for everything. I am drunk and ravenous and blind.

I let the earnest young Brit buy me buckets of vodka until every last faculty disappears into a sweaty haze of drink and dance. I feel anything but lonely. I smile as careless and suggestive as stripping for a skinny dip. I use him shamelessly and without regret. He tells me I’m beautiful but I already know. His eyes swim with naive wonder and I let him kiss me. I know exactly what I’m doing. I have no idea what I’m doing. Without a room key or any identification to get back to my bed, I tumble gracelessly into his and hope upon hope that by letting it all go, I may just get some back.