Thailand, 21 years later

Sailing with my dad and my sister on the West coast of Thailand.

I have such fond memories of Thailand, what an incredible country!  Over the course of two years my sister and I spent a lot of time there.  We moved to Thailand in grade 5 with my father while my mom went back to school to complete her Masters degree.  We were homeschooled by my dad and we stayed at a beautiful resort called Royal Blue Lagoon on Lamai beach, Koh Samui.  It was a magical time, it truly was unforgettable, everything was so new and I'm sure we were wide eyed the whole time.  We spent the first 3 hours of every morning studying all the required subjects.  My father had the accredited curriculum and all the textbooks.  He did such a great job that when I returned to Canada, I was ahead of my class.  We would spend the morning “at school” and then we would have the afternoon off and my dad would work at the resort.  Dom and I would play in the pool, or chase crabs on the beach; the freedom to roam was priceless at that age.  We would make friends with other kids that stayed at the hotel, I remember meeting families from Germany, France, Russia and countless others.  An education in culture, real world learning at its finest.

Pat and Mark in front, their cousin Jenny on the right, and Dom and I.

We also got to know the family that owned the resort.  Khun Peck and Pi Noy and their two kids Pat and Mark.  We would play together all the time, causing trouble for the hotel staff and in general just having a blast. 

I can remember playing table tennis for hours with the bartenders, learning Thai from the waitresses, and drinking lots of lemonade. We became really close with our “adopted” Thai family and I still keep in touch with Pat and Mark to this day.

The guy on the top was the bartender and he taught me everything I know about table tennis.

My father was in Thailand for at least 6 years, and he really loved it there.  Lamai beach was one of the spots where he wanted to be forever.  He told me that he wanted his ashes spread over water on that wonderful lagoon at the North end of Lamai. So when I started to plan this trip I contacted Khun Peck and let him know what I wanted to do.  I wasn’t sure if he would remember me, I wasn’t even sure how to tell him that my father had passed away.  I sent him a lengthy email explaining how my father had battled cancer for 8 years, but had left his body last year.  I expressed my interest in seeing Khun Peck again if it were possible.   He replied right away, and he was so sad to hear the news.  Over 20 years had passed, but my dad and Khun Peck had a great friendship and it was obvious in his response that my dad meant a lot to him.  He wanted to see pictures of my dad, he asked many questions, it had been a long time since he had seen his old friend.  He even asked if he could be a part of the ceremony when I spread the ashes.  I of course agreed and was touched he wanted to be involved.  He told me he had sold the resort but that there was still a hotel there, it was now a Renaissance Marriott, ugh.  Regardless, I wanted to go back to that spot where I spent my formative years.

Not only did I connect with Khun Peck on Koh Samui, but he picked me up at the airport and insisted I stay with him while I built my bike.  He took me to the new hotel and we both walked down memory lane together.  He hadn’t been back to that site in 12 years, and I could tell he was excited to see it again.  I remembered it being a dirt road that lead to the resort, that’s where it all started to change.  It was now paved of course, huge houses on either side, the jungle was long gone.  We used to go to a French bakery on this road and get croissants on the weekends, ironically enough it had been replaced by a huge French private school.  Definitely a sign of things to come.

Khun Peck was nostalgic from the beginning, picking out huge mango trees and telling me how he had planted them himself.  We reminisced about how RBL used to be so lush and wild.  I remembered it being thick with palm trees and beautiful tropical flowers.  We walked to the entrance, which used to be a beautiful garden path, and were promptly met with concrete.  Things had changed, they had removed a lot of the landscaping and replaced most of it with mosaic tiles and cement staircases.  It felt cold, and impersonal.  The garden path was gone, no springy moss beneath your feet, you now had to step from rock to rock on a prefabricated walkway.  It all looked so fake, things were polished everywhere, statues and elaborate water fountains.  Such is life; always changing, nothing stays the same forever.

The entrance to the new Marriott, formerly Royal Blue Lagoon.

It was a surreal visit for me, coming back after 21 years.  So many memories flooding my mind as I recalled being there with my dad and staying in a one room bungalow with two beds.  My sister and I in one, my father in the other, a huge fan overhead.  As we continued down the stairs towards the beach we stopped and looked down at the pool, it had also changed drastically.  It used to be a big peanut pool with soft corners and round contours, it had an island with a palm tree right in the middle, the perfect playground.  This is where we would play Marco Polo for hours with Pat and Mark.  Swimming around the island trying to avoid being caught, it was our babysitter back then.  The pool had been completely renovated and it was now all square with hard edges, the palm tree island was gone of course, replaced by a sickly looking tree in a square “island”.  To top it all off, they had created one of those fancy infinity pools, not the gradual slope that simulated a beach that I used to play on as a kid.

I remember learning my multiplication tables in Thailand.  My dad was clear that it was very important to memorize 12x12 by heart.  He gave me a paper with the 12x12 tables and sent me out to a gazebo overlooking the lagoon.  He said to go out there for an hour and memorize this sheet.  I thought to myself, this will be great, out on the ocean with a breeze, what could be better?  After the hour I came back in and he started to quiz me. He would randomly pick numbers 9x7, 6x8, 12x5 and wait for the answers.  I think I made it through six answers before I made a mistake.  His response was to go back out to the gazebo and come back in an hour.  I was slightly less thrilled to be going back out there, but nonetheless I understood his reasoning because I had not memorized it by heart yet.  So after the next hour I came back in, he started to quiz me again and I think I made it to twelve before I made a mistake.  Back out to the gazebo.  Now I was frustrated, it was lonely out there and I wanted to play on the beach, so I put even more energy into learning my multiplications and was determined to commit them all to memory.  I came in, he started the quiz I’m pretty sure I was correct through 25 questions, but I eventually made a mistake.  Looking back that was the longest day of school I had Thailand, back and forth, it was a hard day for me.  By the end I was absolutely sure I had them all memorized, and I went back in for the final time.  I swear he asked me every possible combination from 1x1 to 12x12, and I finally got them all right.  This certainly wasn’t the traditional way to learn math, but I came home a math whiz.  It was my strongest subject all through high school, and I even took pre calculus in grade 12 as a prep for university.  That day was difficult, I can’t say that I always enjoyed his methods, but he had a knack for isolating what was important and he always drove that message home.  He wanted me to succeed, and I did thanks to him.  

The usual suspects having fun in the sun, obviously before digital cameras ;)  

I also remember eating peanut butter and jam sandwiches a lot, until my dad gave us some tough love and insisted that we eat more Thai food.  He told the kitchen to stop serving us western food, I can remember the next day we ordered PBJs and the poor waitress had to say no.  It was a tough lesson in appreciating other cultures and one I have kept with me.  Eating the local food exposes you to the people and motivates you to learn the language.  These learning opportunities stayed with me, and although at the time all I wanted was a PBJ, what I got instead was a life lesson.  My sister and I now had to practice our Thai and of course we had to find a new dish that we liked.  It was right there that my love for Pad Thai was born.  I can still remember how to order it the way I liked, Pad Thai gai, mai ow ohom.  Pad Thai with chicken, no onions.  Funny, I love onions now.  Everytime my sister and I visited my father in Quebec, we would go for Thai food.  He loved it, and we loved it, it was a bond we shared and I’m so thankful he encouraged us to try their cuisine, it really is one of the best in the world.

My sister and I on Koh Samui!

We also learned to write in Thai, which was a lot of fun.  Dom and I could write our names in Thai, the waitresses would help us with each Thai letter.  It was so incredible to go back to Thailand and start to speak the language again.  Thai words I hadn’t thought about in decades just came flooding back.  I was still able to count to 100 in Thai, I haven’t done that for a very long time.  What I learned from my dad is that it’s important to immerse yourself in the local culture when you travel.  When you learn the language your connections with the locals go up tenfold.  Learning their customs always goes a long way too, I still remembered to never touch a person’s head and certainly never point your feet at someone’s head.  Always put your hands in prayer position when you say hello, Sawatdee Krap.  These things may sound silly, but they can help to avoid some very embarrassing situations.  

My father learned the local language every time, just as I have strived to do on this trip.  He spoke three languages fluently, and could hold conversations in many others.  He was simply brilliant and I looked up to him a lot.  When you remain open to the beauty of new cultures, and you willingly change your behaviour to immerse yourself, you become a man of the world rather than just a tourist.  These things were important to my dad, and now they’re important to me.  Every step of the way I keep his teachings close to my heart, and they have guided me in all my wonderful experiences so far.  Even now he is still teaching me those life lessons, and I am still learning from him.  As I cycle through these countries I am filled with his love, and every chance I get I share it with the people I meet.  Every single moment is precious, every laugh from a child is a twinkle in his eye, and every smile is him looking down at me.

As Khun Peck and I made our way down to the beach and we sat next to the huge rock formations that I used to play on.  We talked about how my dad helped him grow the resort into a thriving business.  It was touching for him to say so many nice things about my dad.  It wasn’t just business though, I got the sense they enjoyed a true friendship, a pharang from the West and a local Thai from Bangkok.  

Khun Peck and I visiting on the same beach where I used to play with his kids 21 years ago.

The moment had arrived, I told Khun Peck about how I usually take out my father’s ashes and hold him in my hands for a few minutes.  I let him know that I take some time to remember my dad and I invited him to do the same, if there was anything he wanted to say to my dad now was the time.

As I held my father’s ashes, I reflected on how far I had traveled to get to this exact spot.  Quebec, Mexico, Switzerland, Mauritius, India, and now Thailand.  For the first time I was struck by the immense distance I had covered, and I closed my eyes and focused on my father's spirit and once again I thanked him for this opportunity.  I was stunned that this was already the last spot on the trip, it had gone by so fast.  The final location that remained was at the family cabin back in BC.  

One last selfie before we parted ways.  What a gentleman, all the best!  Kob Khun Krap!  

With my father in my hands, I was hit by such sadness, I felt as though the end of our trip was near.  I touched the bones among the ashes, and I felt his energy pushing back out into me.  I didn’t want to let go, I didn’t want our last trip together to end.  I took out my father's Buddha necklace from under my shirt.  I have had it around my neck this entire trip, I often hold it and think of him when the situation calls for it.  I remember him telling me that he believed strongly in the necklace's protective powers, he was sure kept him alive longer then expected.  My father was only given two years to live when he was first diagnosed with a cancerous brain tumour, he lived for another eight years.  I held onto it tight, he wore this necklace for two decades, and it had protected me for the last 5 months...

Back on Samui for the first time since I was 10 years old

I walked out into the lagoon and I found a large rock just below the surface.  I stepped up onto it and I looked out over the bay of Lamai beach.  I thought about how the three of us used to walk into town to watch a movie and eat dinner.  I loved hopping from one rock to the other, my sister and I trying to keep up to my dad's big steps.  I took a moment, said a few words to my father, and then I lay him to rest in the shimmering blue waters of Lamai beach, one of the most beautiful places in the world.  Every time I perform this act for him, I start to feel more closure, but I still feel him close to me.

I often meet people that ask why I’m doing this trip, I then get to share his story and each time I get a little closer to understanding why my dad asked me to do this.  This journey wasn't only about spreading his ashes, I'm starting to suspect that for my dad this trip was always meant to be so much more.  When we started planning this trip before he died I became really focused on finding the perfect locations for his ashes, I wanted to get everything just right for him.  It's a huge undertaking to carry your father's ashes around the world, I put a lot of pressure on myself to ensure I did it exactly the way he wanted.  It was all consuming at times, I hoped that I would be able to successfully accomplish such a large task.  

  

During the last year of my dad’s life we talked about how he wanted to remain a man of the world long after he passed away.  Even after all the chemotherapy sessions, all the radiation treatments, and all the surgeries his eyes still lit up when we talked about traveling.  Sadly, on August 18th, 2013 cancer took my father away from me at the tender age of 60.  After five and half months on the road with my dad, the reasoning behind his request is becoming clearer.  After visiting 12 countries, learning 6 languages, and cycling 3900 KMs, I am now starting to understand why he asked me to do this.  Spreading his ashes was his last request, but this trip wasn't only about that, I appreciate now that this trip was also meant for me. This was a father's final gift to his son, this was the ultimate offering of culture, language, and travel. He gave me a journey chronicling his life, but it took traveling around the world before I realized that it was meant to be the  trip of a lifetime for both of us.

Maintenant je comprends Papa, c’est claire que ce voyage était ton dernier cadeau à moi.  Merci beaucoup Papa, c’était mon plaisir.

To see the YouTube video for this post click here.

My dad and I at the lake in Magog, Quebec.  This photo was taken a year before he passed away.