When the Fish Fight Back

June 3rd, 2008 | By Kelly Hayes-Raitt | 4 Comments »

I’m in Ko Tao, an island off the southeast coast of Thailand. Quite idyllic, with the best dive sites I’ve seen, lush hillsides, powdery beaches - you know, every one of those brochure clichés that must have been written here first. At the moment, I’m sitting at an open air bar/restaurant listening to the waves that are suddenly active and to pleasant techno jazz on the stereo. There’s a warm, cooling breeze drying my hair. (I just showered, following my night dive.) I’m eating a fabulous fresh steamed tuna in a garlic sauce, slipping bits to a nervous stray cat.
This magical place is the new partying Cabo, an Asian Key West, a young, oh-too-hip crowd bearing more skin, tattoos and piercings than Palm Springs during spring break. I’ve seen more white faces than natives. My fabulous $6 tuna dinner tonight notwithstanding, there are more restaurants here serving burgers and pizza than Pad Thai noodles. English is the default language of choice, and the median age for travelers seems to about, oh, 24. Even at 33, my cousin is older than most of the crowd partying all night at the beaches and bars. At 47, I’m downright dinosaurish.

The diving has been magical, though. Yesterday, I was attacked by a trigger fish 1/5th my size.
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