So we get off the speedboat and we’re no longer living in luxury. We get hustled by cab people. All of them. We can’t catch a break, so we wind up paying this guy somewhere around $20 to drive us to our next resort. These were Chicago cab prices! But these guys all got a racket going because none of their cabs are regulated or have meters and negotiations are tough.

We drive over the hill, we drive through the town, we drive past the beach, we drive up another hill and then we’re at the resort. They seem surprised to see us. They scramble around and find our reservation. They bring us chilled, cut open coconuts as our “welcome drink.” This is not at all Bethie’s speed. I drink mine, even though I don’t like it all that much. They get the paperwork settled and offer to show us some room options. This place was also all individual villas, but they were a little more rustic. To get around, you ride on this tiny truck that zig zags up and down the cliff. Everything is real tropical with plants and vines everywhere. The first option is nice, closer to the top of the hill with a tiny hot-tub outside of it. It’s the more expensive one. We go with the one we had booked which is at the bottom of the hill by the pools. The whole place is fronting like it’s “eco-friendly” but that’s just a gussied up excuse for being cheap. In the room, you have to plug your key in to get the electricity and AC to come on.

So Bethie is simply not feeling any of this. I’m not either and I’m a little bit panicked. But we’ve got to get into town to meet with the diveshop so we can set up our scuba training. You’ll remember that we finished the first part of scuba training in the America, but we needed to do the “open water” portion in Thailand. The cab driver wants to charge us a lot, we haggle down a couple bucks. He turns out to be super-patient and helpful. By the time we get to the diveshop in the town, Bethie is having a proper meltdown, so she goes to this cafe and gets some pad thai while I sort out details at the dive shop. The manager advises us to spring for doing all of our dives off the boat and not to do the first two off the beach. We obliged and were glad we did. The cab driver waits for us the whole time.

We head back to our resort. I go swimming, and Bethie gets used to her new less-luxurious accommodations. We call the car to take us up to dinner. Whoah. Dinner at this place is great. In fact, the breakfasts were great too! We just had some little appetizers and happy hour drinks, but we had dinner there every night afterwards. The car drives us back down the hill to our hut, but not before we stop at the internet corner to check out room rates at the JW Marriott.

We had to get up early the next day to get on our shuttle to go back to the pier to get back on a boat to go back to the island we had just left, as that was where our scuba diving would be. It’s a big commotion to us, getting on the boat, getting settled, whatnot. We meet our dive instructor, a cagey Irishman named BJ. Behind his eyes, hints of an inscrutable vagabond lifestyle. He’s also sick with some sort of rare tropical disease.

The boat provides the air tanks, the ride, the helpers who get you in and out of the water, coffee, breakfast, lunch and sodas. 7-UP is the best soda for scuba. The boat ride back to the island takes an hour and a half. We spend the time going over gear set-up and routines with BJ.

Our first dive finds us doing some basic skills, and then doing regular old diving like anybody else would. Basically, just drifting around looking at stuff. (Obviously.) Bethie loves the skills - I think she thinks it gives the whole undertaking a purpose. She hates having to take off her mask underwater, but I don’t mind it so much. It’s novel how little time it takes to get comfortable with breathing underwater. Probably less than a minute of being panicked about it, and then it’s smooth sailing.

We come up when we’re out of air and the boat chugs over to pick you up. We have lunch on the boat that tastes great; because scuba makes you pretty hungry. On our next dive, more skills, more underwater world. We’re really doing it!

Back on the boat and we return to dry land. After diving, you get to drink Chang beers on the boat and just cool out. This diving thing is working out great.

We get back to the hotel, have a big dinner and the car drives us down to our hut.

The next day, rinse, repeat. This time the shuttle driver can’t find some people he needs to pick up. How are there two resorts with “boomerang” in the name? We get to the pier, and this time, Bethie and I are old salts at this stuff, taking our shoes off and putting them in the milk crates before we get on the boat like we go around doing that all the time. BJ was being sly because I guess the immigration people were on the pier trying to shake people down for not having the right work papers. We got out of there alright though.

We did some more skills and saw some more stuff. Saw an eel. Saw lots of fish. Saw one fish that looked like it was designed by committee. Saw lots of coral. Saw a shrimp thing that supposedly could punch you with the force of a bullet. Saw a fish that Bethie said looked like a grumpy grandpa. Saw a stingray. BJ helped us with our underwater camera and took tons of pics for us. We had lunch. We did another dive. This time, the current was mighty and we were doing a dive that was a little beyond our expertise. Bethie was fairly terrified. I was too, but only at first, then it was just like riding in a giant underwater waterslide.

We head back to the pier. BJ filled out our official paperwork and we drank celebratory scuba beers. We were official scuba pros! BJ did an awesome job.

Back in town, we stopped by the diveshop to do some more papers and then wander around buying scarves and t-shirts. Bethie loves haggling, but it stresses me out. Especially when I have to stand there with the money, calculating how much she can afford to spend.

Jamie from the diveshop drove us back to our hotel. A nice gesture. We immediately have a huge dinner. I ate curry at least once a day.

On Saturday, we had no agenda, but woke that morning and made a reservation for the next night at the JW Marriott. (Thanks, AAA!) Then we haggled with the cab guy and got him to drive us around for three hours. First we went to the Big Buddha. Lots of obnoxious tourists and monks having lunch.

The next stop was some elephants. I wasn’t in to this idea, but Bethie wanted to ride on one. We stop at the first place and the elephants look all miserable chained up on the side of a hill. We go to another place next to the shooting range/paintball/go-kart park and this place is a more highclass operation. Bethie feeds them pineapple quarters and bananas and we take pictures. We don’t ride on them.

We ask the driver to take us to shopping as we hadn’t picked up enough souvenir t-shirts yet. He misunderstands and takes us to this big gem factory like we want to buy a bunch of gems. I felt bad telling him we weren’t going in, as he might have gotten some money from them if we did. We got many shirts instead. I needed shirts, as I had run out. We bought a fake designer bag to carry all of our junk home. We stop at the 7-11 where the beers are crazy cheap and we also get some waters and cokes.

Back at the resort we savor our final time there, relaxing at the pool and reading magazines. No room to bring those mags home with us.

Took the car ride to dinner. Started with spring rolls for the lady, laab salad for the fella. Showed the waitress our underwater pics. Bethie operated, the waitress looked and I studied the scene. I have never seen a tiny Asian waitress so amazed by the underwater photos we had taken on a dive trip the day before. She was delighted. Bus ride back down the hill. The next day, the Marriott. Then, the Hilton. Then after, home.

The next day, we packed our bags and caused a lot of confusion for the desk staff at the Centara Villas by checking out early. Wound up with the same cab guy as the day before. Same awkward barter with the hotel people and the cab guy. Stopped again for t-shirts in patong, surprising the hawkers into touting too early in the morning. That cab guy must think we loooove t-shirts. (we do.) The drive to the Marriott takes a long time and might have been worth the money.

Oh, how young Bethie’s spirits were lifted upon arrival at this Marriott. I was really impressed too. It was extremely fancy and expensive with very nice people. The last place had finally gotten comfortable for us, but this move was well worth it. We sat by the pool from noon ’til around 6 doing close to nothing but swimming in the ocean for a bit. We abused the happy hour that night and split a dinner at the Italian restaurant. We half-heartedly tried to work our way into the Ogilvy Thailand fancy dinner party. It didn’t work. Went to bed early as usual and had a light breakfast for a change. Sat by the pool for four hours then cleaned up, checked out and spent a little time at the deserted but nice mall by the hotel. Played a heated game of Jenga in a bar.

Got gouged by the taxi guy getting us to the airport. Bethie’s poor packing finally came back to haunt us as we had to shift luggage around to meet the weight limit.

Hanging in the airline lounge, some young girl comes getting wheeled in by a wheelchair looking all rough and her two friends are doting on her. She somehow mustered the strength to raise herself and flop down on this couch while her friends attended her with 7-up and cold towels. Oh brother. She made everyone so uncomfortable. If you’re that sick, then don’t fly. If you’re good enough to fly, then buck up and don’t make everyone scared that you’re gonna give them H1N1 disease (in reality, I think everyone suspected her of just having drank too much.)

We fly. We get to the Hilton. We get our custom tailored stuff. We go to sleep. We leave in the middle of the night to go back to the airport. Dreadful flight home. We get super expensive Starbucks at the Tokyo airport. Back in America, we finally make it home and treat ourselves to a giant pizza. Good trip.

And that’s how you do a proper honeymoon.