I've just spent 8 blissful days on Koh Lanta, a large island in the Krabi province on the west coast of southern Thailand (close to where I spent a week at the end of October) famous for its turquoise blue water, white sand, excellent snorkeling and diving and spectacular karst topography featuring naturally carved limestone cliffs and a plethora of bat-infested caves.

Since I had no clue where to go on the island, I went along with a hotel tout from a mainland travel agent and found myself delivered to a place that was much more unkempt and much less idyllic than what was pictured on the brochure. The swimming pool was green, the garden was brown, there appeared to be no other backpackers in the vicinity and a constantly bickering Danish family occupied the prime bungalow smack next to the pool and restaurant.

First, let's keep in mind that it's low season. The weather is spotty, the water is too rough to swim in, most places are closed, the tide is high and strong winds are coming from the west washing countless plastic and glass bottles, buoys, flipflops and other carelessly-placed beach attire from other islands and maybe even countries, up onto the shore where it will all sit until the high-season cleanup crews show up. My Thai friend Suban, whom I later met on the beach, answered my morbid question regarding the frequency of washed up bodies or body parts. It does happen and always creates quite a stir.

Once I moved to a better guesthouse and got past the seeming crappiness of the beach, I quickly learned to love Koh Lanta. My new guesthouse, "Nice Beach Bungalows" was half the price of the previous one (which bore the "Paradise Bungalow" moniker so loved by Thais) and was absolutely lovely with its thatched-roof bamboo huts and driftwood-furnished bar. The guys who ran the place, Sun, Mus, Guan and Jus were excellent hosts with good senses of humor and a wicked CD collection. There was even a perfectly-placed wooden platform in front of the bar where I practiced yoga every night at sunset. And mixed in with all the rubbish strewn about, I found some really beautiful shells.

Other guests included the absolutely lovely English couple, Kathryn, a "poor Cornwall girl" who'd never left England 'til two weeks ago, and Jiles, a guitar-strumming "rich private-school boy"; four Spaniards who, after I practiced my limited high-school Spanish on them, informed me they were actually Basque; Sigurd, a very kind 29-year old Norwegian graphic designer/photographer who I recruited from Paradise since we were the only two solo travelers around and we hit it off so well; Shiki, a beautiful bold 21-year old Israeli girl globetrotting solo like me. Oh and let's not forget the most entertaining guests of all; two old fat ugly French men partaking in Thailand's famous sex tourism industry, cavorting around in their swim trunks with their hot little Thai 'girlfriends' in tow.

I am now in the town of Trang in the south awaiting my overnight train to Bangkok. It will be the last train trip of my travels and it makes me a bit sad to think about. I'll be in Bangkok for only one night to meet my friend Don I met in Goa and then it's off to another island for a few more beach days before my flight to San Francisco on August 25.

My last days in India were truly perfect. After watching the amusing and somewhat silly 'our-country's better than yours' display at the Wagah Border between India and Pakistan, I left Punjab and headed to Fatehpur Sikri on the way to Calcutta for a short visit with my friend Pappu. In the middle of a torrential monsoon downpour, we walked to the mosque and played in the rain with children in the central courtyard. I had never before purposely taken a walk in the rain. If rain at home were as warm as it is in India, I'd do it again and again.

Soaked to the bone, we walked back to Pappu's family's house to sit with his mother, sisters, niece and baby nephew who continually stared at me with an expression of shock fixed on his angelic face. I suppose not many white folks come around the Mohammed residence. We ate mutton and paratha (flat-bread similar to chapatti but even better) with our hands and watched Hindi music videos until the rain stopped. I went on the roof alone to look at the view over the town. As I glanced around me across to other rooftops and down into the streets, I watched girls with crude brooms wisking the accumulated rain off their roofs. Next door, a young boy filled a large plastic jug with water, oblivious to a monkey swinging and climbing his way closer to him. When the boy spotted the nearing monkey, he dropped his jug and ran, terror-stricken, into the house. Women hung colorful laundry out to dry after the storm. Goats on the steps of the mosque bahhhhhed loudly. The rain cleared away the omni-present layer of pollution to reveal the distant horizon in the expansive valley. It was so clear and so flat for so far, I could see the curvature of the earth.

Two children poking their heads out of a window in another house saw me in my soaking wet orange outfit and chimed together, "hello!!" Loudly I replied, "hello!" With the monkey moved on to another house, the boy next door emerged to refill his dropped jug and cried out to me, "Hello!" Hearing this exchange of greetings, curious children gathered in windows, doorways and on rooftops with big smiles on their faces looking right at me. "Hello! Hello!" they yelled. Within minutes, dozens of children and now their parents and even grandparents had emerged from their houses and collected in the streets, all looking up at me atop the roof crying "hello! hello!" Unsure what to do with the gaze of these expectant eyes fixed on me, I blew kisses, said hello in as many languages as I could and did a little dance for them. Encouraged further, these laughing , smiling wonderful people continued to gather and the chorus of hellos gained volume and momentum. Suddenly aware of what was going on, I stopped moving and replying. I looked around in every direction at the beautiful faces of these Indians all directed towards me. I got a chill down my spine and was almost moved to tears. What a truly magnificent country and what a truly unforgettable moment.

So now, sawatdee ka from Thailand! I arrived in Bangkok day before yesterday from Calcutta after an uneventful and surprisingly pleasant flight on Royal Bhutan Airlines. I spent some of the flight sulking about my departure from India. I don't think I can sum up the experience of spending so many months in such a remarkable, beautiful, insane, difficult, impoverished country in a way that makes since or could possibly convey the emotion I feel and surely will always feel when I think of my time there. Not being in India is almost as difficult as being there. Coming home will be difficult. Talking about India will be difficult. I will do my best, but don't be surprised if any questions you ask me are met with a distant, wistful look.

Not much has changed around here and it's quite a shocker to see so many Westerners. Everyone looks half-naked running around in tanktops and shorts but I will admit I was thrilled to be reunited with my own skimpy wardrobe kept in storage for the last 7 months. It's just as hot as India but dammit, now I can wear a short skirt without making any major cultural faux pas or causing the eyes of a hundred sexually-repressed men to pop out of their heads.

This morning I overheard an American girl on the phone with her parents... "well, it's really cool here, and like, I feel like I am learning, like, soooooo much." I can't say the same, but it is nice to be back and slowly some of the things I loved about this place are coming back to me. The cheap yummy street stall food! The fantastic music! The lack of large farm animals and piles of trash in the streets! Toilet paper in the bathrooms! The ease with which things can be done! This place that once seemed so dirty, undeveloped and different from home now feels like a walk in the park compared to India and I suppose lazing on a beach will be a nice way to wind down my final weeks of travel. I leave tomorrow for the southern island of Koh Lanta.