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I told Stew I’d be back. If I didn’t do a trip, I might spunk up all my cash in the bars. He agreed, and said we’d catch up when I got back. He was going to get me a job as an English teacher. “But I don’t have a  degree,” I protested. “No worries,”he said, “I can get you one.”

I took a mini bus to Surat Thani in the south and a ferry to Koh Samui where I met a Canadian woman. She was in her early thirties and an English teacher in Indonesia.  She was very  tiny and a heavy smoker and only on vacation for two weeks.  Her fountain of youth was evaporating  and disillusion was setting in . She was getting tired of Indonesia too. “I’m sick of the men groping me.”

An Irish backpacker was trying to do just that with his slurring words. May the best man win. Because she could understand my English, she decided to share a bungalow with me.

We became good traveling buddies and decided to go across to the west coast and visit Ko Pi Pi island. She would sun tan every day and was toasted golden brown.

I had done my island hopping thing. I hate being stuck on islands.  I’ve never understood why people rave about the islands.

I parted way with  the wonderful Canadian lady who said I should look her up if I ever made it to Jakarta.

It was good to be back in Bangkok away from the insulated island mentality. Stew was good as his word, and produced a newly printed degree, with my name on it. Even I was impressed.

 

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