The Ring of Fireeeeeee.

I was ready to get to Southern Thailand.

Although I really valued learning about the sociopolitical turmoil that ravaged Southeast Asia during the 1960s and 70s--visiting graphic Vietnam War memorials and the unimaginably disturbing Killing Fields and Tuol Sleng Prison that keep Camobdia's genocide alive--all of this “genocide tourism” had really gotten me down. I was ready to trade somber meals spent trying to make sense of the tragedies for a little more lighthearted environment.

Koh Phi Phi was calling.

The Lonely Planet description was absolutely intriguing: “in contention for the title ‘most beautiful place in the world,” “paradise on earth,” “so beautiful, it will evoke tears.”

Well, Koh Phi Phi didn’t quite evoke tears, but it was the perfect way to end an amazing trek through Southeast Asia. After spending a few intense days on Khao San Road in Bangkok, where we weaved our way through throngs of travelers, ladyboys, and the unfortunately ubiquitous Thai prostitutes, we excitedly bordered our last sleeper bus (!!!) to Krabi, a sleepy beach town with a boat to the island of Koh Phi Phi.

Needless to say, I was excited. With my hideous sunburn from Nha Trang, Vietnam finally fading away into a somewhat-tan, I was ready to take these tear-evoking beaches by storm.

And, oh we did. Koh Phi Phi turned out to be a paradise of translucent waters, out of which soared impressive, tree-topped limestone cliffs. Soft, white sandy beaches hugged the coastline, and quaint long-tail boats taxied visitors to and from the surrounding islands.



Yep, this was happiness. We spent a day snorkeling in the reefs around Koh Phi Phi, where I decided that I should have been a marine biologist (is it too late?). Equipped with my trusty fins and snorkeling mask that I didn’t really use, I dove down into the unknown to propel through skittish schools of tropical fish and to examine sea anemones, inches from the animals’ gently swaying polyps and tendrils. So awesome. Despite my love for aquariums, they will just never seem sufficient after this.



But, the real crescendo of excitement happened at the beach party the evening prior to our snorkeling adventure. Every night, the bars on the beach host parties illuminated by fire twirlers and ropes set aflame and left to dangle from the metal overhangs. Not exactly safe, but awesome nonetheless.

But, perhaps the even less safe fixture of these nightly pyromaniac parties is the invitation for travelers to play “fire jump rope.” Yes, it’s exactly what it sounds like. Two employees ignite a large rope, and then travelers see how long they can leap over the billowing flames before catching themselves on the rope and burning their legs. It was quite a spectacle to watch, as tourist after tourist took on the rope of fiery death, and, inevitably, lost the battle.

I’d like to say that I was “brave” enough to take on said rope. I wasn’t. I was, however, brave enough to take on another fiery challenge: the Ring of Fireeeeee. (imagine me saying this in the most intimidating and melodramatic way possible).



As we watched our fellow tourists somersault and gazelle leap through the fire, we became increasingly confident in our ability to do the same. Finally, after watching our friend, Phil, successfully conquer the Ring of Fire, I handed our friend my new Cambodian side-sling purse and said, “I’m going in.”

Now, when you’re careening toward an intimidating ring of fire, with the flames licking the interior of the ring, you can’t stop to think about the possibilities of injury. If you do, you’ll probably lose your momentum, take a wrong step, and find yourself face-first in the fire. Not an ideal situation.

So, I elected not to think. I just ran, and jumped, contorted my body into a position I didn’t know was possible, and rolled through the ring of fire out into the safe cool air on the other side.

Niceeeeeeeee. I had conquered the Ring of Fireeeeeee (cue the menacing and melodramatic voice).

Feeling accomplished and very bad ass, I trotted back over to the other side and told Wendy that it was her turn.

“I don’t know guys. Knowing me, I’d trip. You know me, I always trip! I’m going to
trip and fall and die.”

“Noooo, you won’t! We all did it! Come on, do itttt!” I’m such a good influence, I
thought.

“Okay, fine.” She hikes up her dress and sprints like a madwoman toward the flames. Right toward the flames. She starts to catapult herself into the air. This is looking good, this is going to be awesome, this is….

“Gooooo Wendy! Woooooo!…....oooooo. Ooooouch.”

Wendy trips over the Ring of Fire. Trips right over the bottom piece of metal, lands right onto the fiery ring.

Wah waahhh.

To the sound of onlookers going, “boooooooo,” we run over to her and try to help her off of the Ring of Fire. She’s obviously in pain, but this is also kind of a
hilarious situation, considering that she wasn’t hurt thaaat bad.



So, for the rest of the night, we help her put ice on the burn, and try to soothe her wounded ego: “It’s okay, lots of people have tripped over...(dramatic pause) the Ring of Fireeeee.”