In Koh Samui, a simple retreat becomes an endearing masterclass in fortitude and grit.
The sight of a solid, 20-inch bluish-green body adorned with protruding red spots greeted us. In perfect stillness, I saw him glued to the wall like an exquisite adornment. His physical demeanor told me to stay away. Yet the more time we spend together, the more I get to know him better.
It was back in early February, when the dry season was at its peak. The temperature had risen over the last three days. Bangkok was 90 degrees, while Phuket, a whopping 96. The steamy tropical weather had spread across the entire Thai peninsula all the way to the country’s third largest island – Koh Samui.
Home to a population of more than 40,000 of which 90% are Buddhists, the 247 km2 island is also a place of residence of other island dwellers, the Tokay geckos. In the villa that we rented, we were sharing space with one of its kind. There were other geckos in the area, but our housemate seemed to know how to get the best location. Across the terrace, views of towering coconut palm trees and the endless vista of the sea, the iridescent shades of playful blue and dazzling emerald.
On the second day, I saw our housemate saddled above the toilet seat, which was to become his favorite spot. His actions roused a certain curiosity in me. His nightly rituals commence after crawling out from the safety confines of the gutter. Then he would prowl around and after the entire brigade of cicadas had finished their chorus, like an opera singer in an aria, he would perform his tok-ko solo. He would stay motionless for many hours, waiting for something and just before the first crack of dawn he would disappear.
I had an eventful bucket list of the things to do, for it was my first time in Koh Samui. I planned to visit the big Buddha, the Ang Thong National Marine Park where Alex Garland’s novel “The Beach” was filmed, the Namuang waterfall, the mummified monk at Wat Khunaram, the legendary Hin Ta (male) and Hin Yai (female) at Lamai beach resembling human genitals, encounter elephant as well as ladyboys.
But rather than going through all of my travel itineraries, my housemate’s Zen-like ways had so much influence on me that I decided to spend more of my time doing nothing, be at peace with myself and commune with nature. I don’t know but every time I watched the clouds go by, I felt an overpowering sense of ease. There was peace and it was blissful. And for the remaining hours, I would lay motionless, just like my housemate. Listening in and paying close attention to my surroundings until everything is acute and lucid. I felt the shift of the wind, heard its soft whisper now blowing in from the west instead of east. With eyes closed, I could almost make out the swaying of trees, leaves rustling in a certain cadence and the gentle lapping of the waves on the shore.
It occurred to me that I was beginning to think like the lizard in our villa. Adopting his admirable kind of philosophy. My senses heightened. Slowly, I was warming up to the concept of patience. I’m still antsy about things, but I can say that I am a work in progress. Needless to say, the art of meditating had worked wonders, thanks to my four-legged Zen master.
That afternoon, I went out again to be with nature or rather become part of it. Then went in for a swim. The splash of the cold water soothed my stiff muscles after my inanimate imitation inspired by my housemate. Just as I came out of the pool, I completely lost my balance but was able to quickly grasp the sides of the rock demonstrating what my friend taught me, an adhesive-like reaction.
If we were to visit Koh Samui again, it would be between April and September, which are the best months, avoiding the driest season, which is from January to March. The heat undoubtedly brings out the geckos from their hibernation.
During our last day, his presence was not felt that night. I did not see him in his favorite spot.
As the hotel guests and staff gathered on the shore for the floating lantern ceremony, each lit their lanterns and released them to freedom. The evening breeze carried them along with their scribbled wishes up into the nightsky until they looked like tiny sparks produced by the butt of a firefly. And if it turns out to be a bug, the poor creature will be eaten by my housemate and soon be part of the food chain.
I thought of my housemate’s staccato croak that woke me during my nightly slumber. “Tok-ko! Tok-ko!” as he would repeatedly say. For that brief close encounter, I was grateful for his wisdom. In the back of my mind, I saw his solid, 20-inch bluish-green body adorned with protruding red spots. I closed my eyes, let go of my lantern, and wished everyone and him a good night.
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Having a gecko in my room would send me into cardiac syncope! I’m terrified of geckos, so much so that when I travel to more exotic places the first thing I do is check the accommodation to see if I have any guests there 🙂
I’d love to see the lantern ceremony, it must be a beautiful moment, full of peace and symbolism.
Just spending time watching clouds go by and getting lost in nature is something I plan on every long trip ….. then forget to do as I become whipped up in the frenzy of seeing and experiencing everything I can.
Nice article written in a style that calmed me down from my frantic day!
I do love Thailand but the heat does make me more prone to relaxation and conserving energy than I have anywhere else I’ve traveled. Much like your roommate our visit to Thailand involved relaxing by our pool and in the shade with a book most afternoons. I usually feel like I’m wasting my vacation when I do this and have never understood it before but Thailand was different. We often found an activity to do for a couple hours in the morning and were safely back in our refuge by noon. I did enjoy seeing all the lizards and geckos over there
Its really interesting the teachers we meet along our travels. Sometimes it’s people, sometimes it’s a view, sometimes it’s a lizard. Hopefully you’ve kept his teachings about patience with you over time. It’s nice to be reminded to slow down and enjoy life.
Such an evocative post! I admire your roommate’s lessons (and his incredible beauty). It is always good to take time to absorb the energy of a place by simply being present and it appears your new friend is an expert!
The lantern ceremony must be a special memory. I am imagining the beauty of watching them float away.
Lyn | http://www.ramblynjazz.com
Oh, isn’t he SPLENDID? How very lovely to share a house with such a gorgeous gecko in Koh Samui. As travellers who are very active and want to see as much as possible when exploring a new destination, we usually fail miserably at relaxing. And so it was delightful to read how your zen master housemate influenced you to spend more time communing with nature and how it brought such peace. A lesson for us all.