The Little Things

I sat on the bus, bound for Bangkok after a weekend getaway. My clothes were spattered with blood. As I often do while traveling, I read to pass the time. The novel was called ‘The Cellist of Sarajevo’. One of its main characters is a sniper whose life depends on noticing “The small things that are not small things”.  I found this ironic, in some small way. That one quote from a book about the Bosnian conflict could so accurately describe the tropical island of Koh Samet -- and how I’d gotten to this point.  

In the south

Many people know that I’m a big picture person. When I arrived at the island’s pier that is what I took in: expansive beaches and crystal water. As the pick-up truck taxi bounced over speed bumps, I noticed verdant hills rising from the shore line. After lunch I decided to see more of the island.

As is common on the Koh Samet I rented a motorbike. One of the most glaring challenges I’d expected was driving on the British side of the road. But, I put my mind to it and it was second nature in no time. I headed for the south; the most beautiful part of Koh Samet. Most of the roads on this part of the island are far from paved. At times I was  amazed to be driving over such rough terrain in, essentially, a Vespa. Still, it was fun and the views were breathtaking. The parts of this afternoon came together to form a cohesive whole.  After weeks of close quarters and grueling schedules at my organization’s field projects this was just what I needed. I resolved to return to the southern tip of the island to relax the next morning.

 A Southern Koh Samet Freeway

After returning to our north-end resort I had dinner with the other interns. For the first time in a while I felt like I had energy. I set out again the next morning, low on gas from yesterday. After looking around, I saw that many local families were selling bottles. I stopped at the first place I saw.  My bike's tank full, I hit the gas and took in grandeurous beauty that is Koh Samet. I felt unstoppable.

Too unstoppable, in fact.  I’d failed to notice the little things - such as the speed bump advancing towards me at 50 KPH. At the last moment it became a somewhat important detail. I slammed on the breaks; the bike stopped. I, however, kept moving until my face was inconveniently stopped by the pavement.

A good Samaritan put me back on my motorbike and told me to go to the clinic. With blood streaming from my nose and multiple abrasions, I again hit the gas.  It turned out the clinic was closed on Sundays. I returned to the resort and cleaned up. Then I set out again. I was intent on reaching the island’s southern shore and wasn’t about to let a little thing like blunt force cranial trauma stop me.

Land's End

I reached my goal. Though I only stayed about 30 minutes once I got there. It was well worth it. I was the last of my group to leave the island that day. The small details of my time there formed a larger experience that I did not want to end.

 I sat on the bus physically beat up, but mentally rejuvenated. I’d likely have a scar, but that was ok. It’s just another detail, a reminder that the smallest things can tell a story. That big picture of a weekend, or a life, is informed by its events. By the little things that are not little.