Nell Whiting (all photos)

Longtail boats at dusk on Phi Phi Island.

Thailand for Beginners

It’s official—I don’t like the idea of being fish bait. In fact, I’ll go on record and say I don’t like it at all. But as I float in the turquoise water of the Andaman Sea off Thailand’s coast, fish don’t really care what I think.

I snorkel with friends alongside a series of islands that resemble Seuss-like creations of rocks that spring like dollops of rock candy from the sea. The 15-minute boat ride to get here from my hotel was bliss—and this? Not so much.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m living a travel cliché in paradise…it’s just that I’m adverse to hundreds of adorable blue and yellow fish not understanding the tenets of personal space. And, as I learn, they don’t really understand commands like “no!” or “go away.” Arm-flailing and flipper-kicking only seem to draw more of their friends toward me.

That’s the thing about Thailand, though. Even the elements I don’t like are never particularly bad. And there’s always a way to make things fun. After telling myself I’m a wimp for being intimidated by a bunch of 5-inch fish that look like Nemo’s cousins, I tighten my mask, grab my snorkel and head off into deeper water with bigger fish.

My bravado doesn’t last long, and I’m soon hauling myself back into the boat and explaining to the driver that I’m taking a break. Naturally, he doesn’t buy it, but as I sit in the sun seeing those same islands coming out of those same waters, it hardly matters. My four friends are happy being surrounded by curious fish, and I’m happy sitting on a boat watching them.

Temple Splendor

My trip to Thailand had started almost two weeks earlier, in Bangkok. My preconceived notions of this city are vanquished immediately. It’s not the neon, pulsing, overcrowded metropolis that I thought it would be. Sure, it’s crowded (especially at rush hour, when traffic is pretty much a parking lot for a couple of hours), but when I start to get a little overwhelmed by the street vendors hawking tee-shirts, figurines, hats and DVDs—along with the sleek malls lined with luxury brand stores—we take a ferry down the river to see the Reclining Buddha, the Grand Palace and Wat Pho.

The vendors are just as ubiquitous here, but they sell bags of freshly cut pineapple, watermelon and papaya for the equivalent of about 30 cents. It makes the walk between the sights a lot more enjoyable.

And the temples themselves—perfect. Groups of schoolchildren line up and sing in unison outside one of the temples, with not a single kid out of line. Every tourist slips off his or her shoes as requested before entering any of the buildings, no questions asked. Even the tour groups chat quietly, which makes it difficult for me to figure out what languages they’re speaking.

We do have to battle the crowds again when we leave, but the appetite I work up pushing my way through the streets makes me more than ready for dinner that night—tom yam soup, massaman curry, papaya salad—things I’d always passed over on menus at Thai restaurants at home.

Jungle Trekking

Our next excursion isn’t quite so sedate—we head south to the jungle, which is technically the Khao Sok National Park. I had created a long list in my head of things that I wouldn’t like: the bugs, the heat, and the lack of A/C and hot water in our tree house/hotel room.

In fact, a daily dousing of industrial strength bug spray keeps me mostly bite-free, the towering trees and huge bamboo plants provide plenty shade, and after a day of hiking and multiple applications of sunscreen, a cold shower is actually refreshing. And living in a tree house means you might see monkeys playing in the trees 15 feet away from your porch.

It turns out, though, that one of the things I thought I would love—tromping through the jungle on the back of an elephant—is not my favorite.

Elephants are really big (yes, I’m the master of the obvious), and unlike horses, you’re not sitting directly on their backs. On our elephant trek, my friends and I find ourselves sitting two to an elephant, squeezed onto a little metal bench that’s raised up about 2 feet above his back, with a rope draped across us as a seatbelt. I also learn that elephants do not have what you might call a smooth gait, and as ours swayed back and forth into a seriously muddy riverbank that looked very slippery and treacherous, I learn the meaning of “white knuckle ride.”

But perspective is everything.

When I look up at this gorgeous landscape—green and lush—it hits me: I’m in a Thai jungle on the back of an elephant that seems to know what it’s doing. The creature isn’t phased at all by the mud, a fast rushing stream or 2-foot wide trails covered in rocks.

Maybe this elephant-riding stuff isn’t so bad—especially when we end up at a waterfall and swimming hole. I may not be thinking of giving up my car for an elephant, but as I was finding out, Thailand’s silver linings are pretty fantastic.

The Relaxation Thing…Sort of

At our hotel on Phi Phi Island (Phi Phi Island Village), accessible only by boat, each “room” is a glorious bungalow. All this comfort prompts me to treat myself to some spa time. And when in Thailand, a Thai massage is practically required, right?

Well, maybe…if you actually know what Thai massage is—which I do not. To fill you in: The masseuse sits on the table with you, often on top of you, and pulls your limbs in directions you’re not sure they’re supposed to go. I’m stretched. Ouch. I’m then prodded with fingers, knees and elbows pressing deep into pressure points.

For each pressure point, the pain lasts only briefly, and at times truly does feel good, but as I lie there having the air pressed out of my lungs for the fourth time, I realize I prefer a more relaxing massage. I consider asking the masseuse to change styles halfway through, but decide to tough it out.

Afterwards, I’m escorted to a small table, brimming with fresh fruit and a cup of warm tea, which sits on a balcony overlooking the ocean. I’m firmly directed to sit, relax and eat, which I happily do. Parts of my body need to be moved gingerly, but nothing has been pushed out of place or otherwise damaged. In fact, I find that I feel loose, and the tightness in my back I’ve had all trip (the Thais like really hard beds, apparently) is gone. I give credit where it is due—this isn’t the easiest route to relaxation (some police interrogators might want to consider this technique to induce confessions) but the results are wonderful. And the tea is delicious.

Thailand unveils surprises daily. Indeed, day after day, I find myself amazed by something. Sometimes it’s something small, like finding a twig with little green berries in my curry and learning it’s fresh peppercorns—something I’d never seen or tasted before. And sometimes, the bigger surprises emerge, like meeting an entire country of happy, kind and generous people.

I don’t think I’ve ever been to a place where potentially negative experiences (think nibbling fish and brutal Thai massage) are simultaneously leavened by the absolute coolness of the experience itself. But that seems to be what Thailand is—a place to push yourself a little, but then bounce right back to the comfort of a relaxing chair on the beach.

To watch a slideshow of Nell Whiting's trip to Thailand, click here.