The engine roars and the boat slows down, I un-stick my back from the velvet seat. The Japanese fan blows a cone of coolness where I take refuge from the oven-like air. Not even the breeze that is tickling the deck can weaken the grasp of this unnerving heat. The pilot steers the boat towards the pier with a sequence of slow parallel half moons.
Pivoting on the pillar the ferry rotates until it lines up with the wooden structure. The ramp comes down and a line of cars starts to pour out of the ferry's hold. Across the slip there's a strip of jute that puffs a small cloud every time it's pressed. Everything reflects the gray of the sky.
I stagger on the gangway with the sack on my shoulder, I cross the bridge that squeaks and sways, then I walk down the path that connects with the square.
Step by step, without taking flights, crawling up the southern strip of Thailand. Samui-Surat, Surat-Hua Hin, then the last van ride that will take me to Bangkok, zig-zagging through heat, palm trees and shacks, with water and dust flowing under my soles.
Traveling is boredom, chapters and thoughts, traveling is an IV of deep fresh lifeblood.
Photo Koh Samui, by Fabio Pulito
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