Taking Chances

Digital Art Collage by Stella Kalaw

Like you, I have read stories about septuagenarians who take up sky-diving or go wing-suiting off cliffs. I have met folks who sold all their assets and opened an orphanage in Cambodia. I have crossed paths and listened to the stories of the fit and not-so-fit elders who have travelled all their lives and want to go out on that one last, edgy, possibly dangerous, exclusive trip before they die. I understand all that.

When the time you have to live is much shorter than the time you have lived, why not take some thrilling, altruistic or legacy-enhancing chances?

With that in mind and in preparation for our friend Angie's 70+ birthday, we—two couples—decided to celebrate and go beyond the borders of the Thai town where we were vacationing to find a new, secluded beach.

We thought we would stay the night if we found a guest house, boutique hotel or great bed and breakfast. So we packed our T-shirts, bathing suits, toothbrushes and meds.

Our hotel lent us an Old Beater—a crappy backseat bench, no shocks.

Angie drove.

If you're heading out on a celebratory road trip and the vehicle's steering wheel is on the wrong side and the stick shift is reversed, you might as well let the Birthday Girl drive.

Angie had found “The Secluded Beach” in a Thai guidebook, and with Google Maps pulsating and minimal luggage in hand, that was our destination.

It WAS a gorgeous beach. It was a beach with an 11-kilometre road bordering it, providing uninterrupted access. Across from the beach—wall-to-wall resorts.

Resorts with inflatable castles for kids, hotels for tattooed British tourists, guest stays brimming with Russians saving their skin from Putin, B & Bs populated with old white men with middle-aged Thai wives.

We left.

My partner, Kate, studied Google Earth, and we pushed off to check out another secluded beach six klicks south. One hundred metres from the turn-off to the second beach, the road was blocked by a bridge repair necessitating a detour along a dirt road that led to a decrepit boatyard.

From this shore, we could see two islands in the distance, side-by-side, cone-shaped, looking like twins. Closer to us were a series of water-bound rocky monoliths and curiously, on one, what appeared to be a temple? A shrine? A wat?

We were hot, parched, and drained by the day's challenges and chances lost. We needed a swim.

Intrepid Kate approached the Thai boatyard dudes and arranged for a ride over to the secluded beach made inaccessible to our truck by the bridge repair work.

Launched into the water, and with a local steering, we approached our sandy landing.

Angie spotted a white building and, with uncanny traveller's intuition (and unlimited 5G data that is everywhere in Thailand) identified it as La Brasserie—the brewery. Once closer to shore, she leapt into the water, striding purposefully toward her target.

I thought: maybe it was run by French people. Maybe they were open. Maybe they had cold drinks. Maybe they had BEER!

We climbed the steps, looked around, and were each overcome by an ah-ha moment. We fell in love with the place. This is what we had set out to find. It checked all the boxes. The beach was deserted. The place was stylish and impeccably clean. The bridge under repair kept other guests away. What were the chances? The place was ours!

With our sleepy boat captain waiting, we located the manager, booked two rooms, arranged for dinner and breakfast, had a swim, got back in the boat and returned to the boatyard to pick up the truck. A hand-drawn map following a basic cow track, hastily drawn by the manager, indicated our route back. We bumped back to La Brasserie and, in no time, were quickly installed in our rooms.

Angie is British. She missed the spelling of the place we were staying that night. We looked more carefully at the room keychains in our hands. They were hand-made mini replicas of a woman's bra. There were women's undergarments and sleeveless tops decorating the walls. I returned to the sign on the beach. We were staying overnight at the Brassiere Hotel. Behind a blooming bougainvillea, a chalkboard sign explained.

I paraphrase: myth has it this place was home to a beautiful young woman ready for marriage. Her mom promised her to one king, and her dad promised her to another king. She was ready on the day of her marriage, and both kings arrived at the same time. Opting for the only reasonable solution, her father chopped her up and threw her into the sea.

The place was a kinky paean to the chopped-up woman's boobs.

Was this a joke? Was that temple on the rocky monolith a place to worship the female upper body or a legend invented by some obsessed B & B-owning Westerner? Were those two islands so evenly matched, so close together, so pointy, the symbols of the breasts of this young woman? Would a visit the next morning out to the temple help clarify what, to me, was total batshit weirdness?

No, yes and sort of.

We headed out in kayaks at sunrise, moored them at the bottom of slippery steps cut into the rock, asked a monkey to keep an eye on our paddles and crawled out and onto the shore.

At the top of the stairs, the temple was divided into two sections. On the left was an altar to leave offerings, and to the right…

"A DRESS SHOP," Angie screamed, entering the shop to check out the merchandise.

Back at the altar, we studied the offerings to discover that, indeed, there were brassieres, women's dresses, shoes, hats, jewellery, perfume and more, all left in homage to the poor victim of a marriage that never was.

Yes, she lived on through a legend, a temple, two islands popping out of the ocean, and a B & B dedicated to her breasts.

And what did her spirit offer to those who braved the high seas, as did we, to visit and leave these various treasures?

Marriage advice? Lessons in interpersonal communication? Fashion counsel? Nope.

I'll explain.

Lottery ticket vendors are ubiquitous all over Thailand. Everybody buys these small numbered tickets. But obviously, not everybody who buys a lottery ticket in Thailand can go to the island where the spirit of the young woman lives on. But if you can boat, swim, or walk on water to visit and if you bring an offering, she will guide you on choosing the winning lottery numbers!

If you are taking chances on the lottery, she's your gal. All Thais know this. She's famous.

I checked.