Lindsey Smith
Koh Tao at Dusk.
Photo: Lindsey Smith
As we walked down the long white steps of our hill-situated rooms and around the large tiled pool, a strange red light glowed in the distant night sky. One, then two, then more exclamations rang out as the light was spotted. Red and constant, its movement through the sky was almost imperceptible as we stood there watching. I speculated that it was a plane coming straight toward or away from us, which was why it seemed not to move. But no lights were flashing. Baffled but hungry, many of us kept moving while a few stayed back to watch. The light suddenly flickered and was gone.
“I’ve never seen anything like that. It was nothing at all familiar,” Troy said with an ominous voice and mysterious eyes.
We walked down to the main street along our part of Mae Haad Bay in Koh Tao, Thailand. The island is small, only about five miles by three miles, and it seems built for many more tourists than it currently contained. Between the various diving resorts and dive shops that are the main attraction, our cobblestone street, used only by pedestrians and mopeds, is lined with a plethora of restaurants, currency exchange booths, and tourist shops. Shoes come off as a rule before entering any establishment in order to reduce the amount of sand dragged in as well as to promote a relaxed island attitude. And all is situated on white beaches with crystal clear water and palm trees, fitting the tropical island stereotype to a tee.
The restaurant we chose contained a whole wall-of-a-fountain designed in the style of some sort of tribal art. We ordered our Thai dishes and tropical fruit shakes, trying to ask through language barriers how spicy the food was and what was in it. We have learned to be adventurous for the most part and hope that our food doesn’t come out as a bunch of tentacles cooked in a burn-your-mouth-and-make-you-cry curry. Overall the meal didn’t go badly, though a lot of orders were mixed up and the curry was pretty spicy. We waited for the last ones served to finish their meals, then scattered to our chosen evening activities.
About twelve of us went to find a bar. Slipping our shoes off at the door, we stepped into an establishment called The Cave. We were instantly surrounded by lumpy adobe, red plastered walls covered with mod cave-drawing style art and disco balls tossing light in every direction. As with most places, it was nearly empty. I excitedly looked at a cocktail menu, relishing the experience of trying something new and picking out my first drink at a bar. The task accomplished, we sat around a table talking and sipping each others beverages of choice. The back of the bar opened out to the beach, and after a while we decided to venture out.
If I hadn’t felt like I was in tropical paradise before, I knew it then. Short, little candlelit tables complemented with cushy bean bag chairs were situated along The Cave’s beachfront. Closer to the waterline sheer cloth banners intermingled with lit torches, all in a colorful array of muted romantic hues over white sand.
As the group situated itself around two tables, I couldn’t help standing and staring at the clear, teal-colored water lit by so many candles and the lights of the coast. Water has always been my element, and I am always drawn to it. This water left no room for question or thought, and I mechanically approached it, wanting to be closer. As I stepped past the line of torches, I stepped into a new world—a world unfamiliar yet peaceful. Without hesitation or a falter in step, I continued to walk right into the water and out along the shallow coast until the water started tempting my shorts to join in, too. I was in a dream world, the beach left far behind. It was not foggy, but crystal clear—the water, the wave-shaped ripple designs of the sand below, the frosting of stars in the sky above, and the lights of the bay and surrounding fishing boats all encompassing me.
Steve came to join me, and we gazed in wonder at the world around us, not being able to believe such a pristine backdrop. I felt like I was someone else—that the perfect beauty filling my sight could not possibly be in my own reality. Yet as the water lapped my legs in a soft lullaby, I gave up my grasp of reality and slipped into a trance of acceptance. Instead of struggling to take it all in, I was invited in and welcomed.
Far off on the beach, the group called that they were leaving, and we waved them a goodbye. Steve went to grab our shoes as I continued in the water parallel to the coast, with the intention of walking slowly through the water back to the resort. Suddenly I was startled out of my stupor, surprised by a large red light above me. What the heck is that? I thought. I watched as the red light slowly drifted farther and farther away into the night sky. As my gaze fell from the heavens and onto the beach, I saw another lit silhouette being released by a group of four on the beachfront of an adjacent restaurant.
The object of mystery was a tissue paper cylinder shaped by bamboo hoops, with a kerosene-soaked toilet paper ring suspended by thin wire in the bottom. Approaching slowly to get a better look, I watched as the group lit the toilet paper and held the cylinder down, taking pictures as the air inside heated. Then, slowly, they picked it up and released it, and it lifted off. The grace with which it drifted higher and higher inspired prayers and blessings to go with it. It wasn’t like a firework—fast and loud. The slow, silently glowing lantern demanded some sense of mystic solemnity from its very demeanor, and found a perfect home up in the glittering vastness.
Steve approached from behind carrying our shoes and stood with me. As we watched another lamp set off, we discussed finding one ourselves. Hesitant to disturb the group of four who seemed to be in their own little world, we found another couple who were having difficulties setting off theirs. We left our watery abode, approached, and asked where they had bought it. “The market” was the only reply we got.
Away from the restaurant and back on the main road, we were in search of a market. We passed restaurants, bars, and street vendors, with no sign of a store or market. Suddenly our nice cobblestone path turned to dirt and the familiar tropical paradise setting ended. Locals were milling around small convenience stores intermingled with huts. We kept walking a short distance, but with no sign of what we were looking for turned around and headed back to the well-lit cobblestone.
As we walked past the same restaurant at which we had seen the lanterns, we decided to ask a local who seemed to be helping set them off.
“One hundred fifty baht,” he said.
“You have them then?” I asked. He went back into the corner of the closed bar he was sitting at and came back with a white tissue paper hoop. He tied a sawed off ring of toilet paper to the middle with the wire and told us in broken English that it didn’t work if we didn’t give it enough time for the air to heat, or if it was too windy. Extremely excited, we rushed down to a bar where we found the rest of the group. We all walked down to the quiet beach and got situated. Steve lit the toilet paper with a lamp off a nearby table while we made sure the tissue paper didn’t burn. Then we held the bottom down as the fire heated the inner air. Gradually the hoop grew lighter and we brought it slowly up above our heads. It softly began to pull free. We counted down and then released. As it floated gently higher, Troy said, “There goes our UFO!”
I watched the red globe of light, reminiscing. It was a perfect commemoration of the evening. That world which I experienced with wonder for the first time rose into the distance until it got as small as a neighboring star. Meanwhile, the restaurants and stores were closing, and the lit bay began by shades to grow darker and darker. After five minutes had passed, the light began to flicker in and out of sight. Then it was gone. I said a small thank you for time and place and left the beach behind.