Part of the great appeal of traveling through some of the places we’ve traveled through, is that Lonely Planet said we could get rooms for like four bucks. For a dollar more, we’d get hot water and air conditioning. Luxury stuff.

In Thailand, we were fully geared up for a cheapie bungalow on the beach, easy living under budget. Instead of $4 (no hot water, no A/C), our cheapie bungalow on Koh Tao cost us $12 a night. Either there’s been some inflation since Southeast Asia on a Shoestring was published in
March 2008, or we were paying extra for the monster that stayed in our room.

I can’t complain too much. Our beach was clean and had no more than six people on it at any given time, ourselves included. The snorkeling was excellent; just 30 feet from the beach, huge schools of big yellow fish fed underneath our goggles. Bands of little fish swam near the surface, circling us like the tail of a glittering blue comet. The daytime, outside of our bungalow, was perfection.

And I suppose, in an effort to keep my complaining to a minimum, that our $8 monster kept out smaller, inferior monsters, so this also was a real benefit.

I wish I could tell you the genus and species of our monster, or even its common name. What I can tell you, however, is that one day it was poking its body out from behind a picture on the wall. Though the picture, actually a dusty old jigsaw puzzle, measured about 18 inches wide, I am certain that the creature itself was a good 500 feet long. That it had a lizard shape and its little phalanges stuck to the smooth paneled wall suggests it may have only been a gecko (there are thousands of species), but I’m not buying it. Geckos are everywhere in Southeast Asia, cute little guys scampering across walls and TVs, eating mosquitoes and bringing luck to the house. This thing in our bungalow, if I haven’t made this clear, was enormous and horrifying.

Confronted with this beast, Andrew and I went for practical tools. He grabbed the broom, I grabbed the camera. While he shooed and I shot, the thing scurried* across the wall, into the bathroom and out through the hole (!) in the ceiling. For the rest of our stay, we rigged the bathroom door so it would stay shut and keep the monster out. Twelve dollars a night, apparently, does not buy you a functioning doorknob.

This was a fine plan, until our last morning, when I flung open the door for one last view of blue water bliss. Instead of a breath of sea air, the monster fell from somewhere above, forcing me to shriek and do an embarrassing dance wherein my feet were not supposed to touch the ground. Andrew, getting my back, did the same thing. From the porch, it stared through me in the doorway and into the room, like it was going to make a break for it. The blue pustules on its back shone in the sun. I continued to shriek and wake the neighbors** until it ran away. We quickly packed our bags and did likewise.

Yesterday we arrived in Bali. Loaded down with backpacks and the disappointment of not being able to afford the beautiful guesthouse across the way, I pushed for putting down the bags and saying yes to the budget option. Big mistake. The towels smelled like motor oil, the sheets smelled like urine, and the ants came marching in.

Tonight we’re somewhere lovely and mostly within the budget. Things smell good. There is hot water. Geckos remain outside.

*The creature, most likely one of Godzilla’s offspring hustling off to fight Mothra, moved like something that “scurried,” was fast enough for a “scurry,” but did not make the sound that “scurrying” entails. Think of the sound of people pounding on wooden bleachers. Fortunately I watched a Jackie Chan movie with some Cambodian tuk tuk drivers while we were in Siem Reap, so had it come to violence it would’ve been back to the Loch with old Nessie…Jackie Chan-style…or something. – Andrew

**The neighbors, like just about every other tourist in Koh Tao, were German. They were staying in the $9 variant of our bungalow (which we rejected because the gaps in the floor were, well, gaping). We were awakened the night before by the sound of pounding and stressed-sounding German. After 45 minutes of this we decided to investigate. Thankfully, the pounding stopped as we approached the bungalow and heard what sounded like a door popping open. Apparently $9 will buy you a bathroom door that won’t open once closed. Who needs satellite TV? -A