Tripwolf Blog

In Thailand, the sea life is suspicious. It is guarded by environmentalists, worshiped in documentaries … and unable to relax in the presence of clumsy human intruders. My fellow Koh Phagnan day trippers – their flesh shredded by lurking coral – can attest to the suspicion, as can my fish-bitten legs and my friend Ginger’s foot; the recipient of a surprise attack.

We’d traveled through Bangkok – two days of fighting our way through Khao San Road and choking on tuk tuk dust. In contrast, Koh Phagnan sparkled with white sand and aquamarine seas; a paradise film reel jarred only by the creep of tourists.

Millennia from our lives as ESL teachers, we snorkeled between forest-capped cliffs, flanked by wooden longboats.

Our guide delighted in sprinkling breadcrumbs onto us to lure writhing swarms of black-and-yellow striped fish. This is how I was bitten and how I was able to leap back into the boat, my churning legs touching only air…

Fat on coconut milk after a green curry lunch, we swam off Poda Beach in turquoise water warm as soup. Paddling to shore was lazy luxury until, suddenly, Ginger yelped. Confused, she lifted her foot and we peered, dumbfounded, at its new constellation of blue-tinted dots.

“Sea urchin!” declared our speedboat captain after I’d flagged him down to the shore. “You sting it, it stings you. Fifteen minutes; you’ll feel better!” He dramatically raised the snorkel he’d concealed behind his back.

“Releases the poison,” he explained, just before swinging his tool in a perfect arc to slap Ginger’s foot.

What else to do in a foreign country when attacked by a foreign organism but trust the locals? By now, a curious crowd had formed, offering suggestions over the captain’s steady tattoo of snorkel whacks. One hopefully suggested urine therapy. Though Ginger was in enough pain to welcome radical solutions, we fell silent and cowardly. Everyone stayed standing, aside from the captain who’d straddled Ginger to anchor himself against the crashing tide. With his free hand, he tried to splash the rushing water away. With the other, he snorkel-whipped Ginger’s foot. Comedy on the Thai seas? Ginger might have disagreed. But soon, she did feel better and we were able to marvel at her foot; swollen, with black bristles protruding from the blue dots.

Back on the boat, our fellow passengers slumped, their gashes rouged with merchurochrome. Ginger’s sore, puffy foot lay propped on a cooler. My legs still felt those tiny, nipping fish mouths and we all suffered various degrees of sunburn. Our holistic remedy advocate was silent – limp and sea-beaten like the rest of us.

Later, Ginger and I would research sea urchin attacks. We’d learn that only a few kinds are poisonous – even fewer are deadly – and that a good step to beginning Sea Urchin First Aid is to remove the hooks, though they’ll eventually fall out. Vinegar is indeed helpful for neutralizing pain as is a hot water soak and, as our fellow daytripper suggested, urine. Some say it’s even better at soothing the pain than vinegar and, I’m sure, a snorkel whipping.

The irony was that back on the shore – perhaps due to fright or too much Tiger beer – we’d both needed to go.