T A B L E_T A L K Beautiful Chiapas. Mysterious Coba. Where are the best places to visit in Mexico? Share your memories and make plans in the Wanderlust area of Table Talk   Find a world of travel books -- new, rare and out-of-print -- at barnesandnoble.com Search by:  Keyword Title Author     R E C E N T L Y Looking for Abdelati By Tanya Shaffer An unexpected journey into the heart of a family in Casablanca (02/07/99) This week in travel Wanderlust's selective guide to travel-related news from across the globe (02/05/99) Dead ends in London By Laura Billings Jack the Ripper returns to life on a grisly but gripping tour (02/04/99) Korea's no-man's-land By Rolf Potts The DMZ is one of the planet's oddest tourist attractions, where visitors can pick up everything from propaganda to perfume (02/03/99) Suite liberties By Chris Haines A travel magazine employee gets free luxury hotel rooms and four-course feasts -- but there's always a price to pay (02/02/99) Browse the Wanderlust Feature archives Wanderlust's Official Travel Book Partner		storming_"The Beach" A BACKPACKER IN SEARCH OF ADVENTURE IN THAILAND PUTS THE MOVES ON LEONARDO DICAPRIO. - - - - - - - - - - - - - [ FIRST OF TWO PARTS ] BY ROLF POTTS Day six: Jan. 22 -- Storming "The Beach" (Prelude) It is 3 o'clock in the morning, and Lomudi Beach is possibly the only stretch of sand on Phi Phi Don island that is completely deserted. The only buildings here are small, sagging bamboo-and-thatch dwellings that probably housed Thai fishermen before the onslaught of sun-starved Europeans and North Americans turned those fishermen into bellboys and T-shirt hawkers. The high tide line here yields a sodden crust of garbage -- plastic water bottles, rubber sandals, cigarette butts -- but this detritus is only evidence of the boaters, snorkelers and sun-burned masses who haunt the other parts of the island. Devoid of dive shops, pineapple vendors and running water, Lomudi is quiet and empty. Given the current development trends in this part of Thailand, Lomudi will probably sport a disco and an airport within a couple of months. I hear the rhythmic thump of a longtail boat somewhere in the darkness, and I realize that my moment is at hand. Gathering up a sealed plastic bag of supplies, I wade out into the shallow waters to meet the rickety wooden craft that will take me across a small stretch of the Andaman Sea to the forbidden shores of Phi Phi Don's sister island -- a majestic, cliff-girded island called Phi Phi Leh. Phi Phi Leh island is not forbidden because of ancient tribal rituals, secret nuclear tests or hidden pirate treasure. Phi Phi Leh is forbidden because it is the current filming location of a Leonardo DiCaprio movie called "The Beach." My sole mission on this dim night is to swim ashore and infiltrate the set. I am not a gossip journalist, a Leo-obsessed film nut or a paparazzo. I am a backpacker. The primary motivation for my mission is not an obsession with Hollywood, but simply a vague yearning for adventure. I wish I could put this yearning into more precise terms, but I can't. All I can say is that adventure is hard to come by these days. Admittedly, I have a daunting task before me. In the wake of ongoing environmental protests, Leo's purported fear of terrorism and the obligatory packs of screaming pubescent females, security on Phi Phi Leh has reached paramilitary proportions. Thus, I have given up on the notion of a frontal assault. Instead, I plan to swim ashore via Loh Samah Bay, change into dry khakis and a casual shirt and -- under cover of darkness -- hike across the island to the filming location. I'm not sure what will happen if I'm able to make it this far, but -- summary execution excepted -- I am prepared to cheerfully deal with whatever fate awaits me. This attitude has much less to do with optimism than with the simple fact that -- after one week of obsessive preparation -- I don't really have a plan. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Day one: Jan. 17 -- DiCapritation Thai Air flight 211 from Bangkok to Phuket has been taxiing around for the last 20 minutes, and there seems to be no end in sight. The European package tourists in the seats around me are getting fidgety, but this is only because they have not set foot on actual soil since Stockholm or Frankfurt. I, on the other hand, have been in Thailand for two weeks -- and I've already faced the numbing horrors of Bangkok traffic. There, amid the creeping tangle of automobiles, buses, tuk-tuks, humidity and fumes, one is left with two psychological options: nirvanic patience or homicidal insanity. Patience won out (barely) for me, and I am taking this present delay in stride. In my lap sits a pile of notes and clippings about the movie production -- most of it from Thai tabloid newspapers. Considering that culling hard facts from tabloid gossip is a challenge akin to discerning fate from sheep intestines, my mind frequently strays as I dig through the information. I wonder, for instance, what would happen if Leonardo DiCaprio's teenage fans here were able to overwhelm his bodyguards. In every part of Asia I've visited, I've noticed how young girls act in the presence of their pop heroes, and it's somewhat unsettling. At one level, there is a screamy, swoony, Elvis-on-"Ed Sullivan" innocence to it all -- but at a deeper level, I sense an intuitive desperation. After all, not only is this part of Asia a survivalist bazaar society (where patiently standing in line is not part of the manner code), it also runs on a patriarchal system, where young girls simply have fewer options in life. If Leo's bodyguards ever fail him, I wouldn't be at all surprised by a frenzied display of grim, no-future pathos -- a spectacle that, by comparison, would make punk-rock nihilism seem like a gentle tenet from the Sermon on the Mount. I keep getting this picture in my head of the handsome blond movie star being lovingly, worshipfully torn to pieces -- of adolescent girls brawling over ragged bits of spleen and femur. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Several months before I came to Thailand, I read the Alex Garland novel on which the movie is based. In the story, a strange man presents the main character (a young English traveler named Richard) with a map that leads to an unspoiled beach utopia hidden in a national park in the Gulf of Thailand. The "Lord of the Flies"-style moral degeneration that results after Richard's arrival on the beach made for a thoroughly engrossing read. After finishing the book, I toyed with the idea of emulating the plot -- of finding some like-minded travelers, hiring a fishing boat into the restricted national park islands, and seeking out an unspoiled paradise. I ultimately discarded this notion, however, when I discovered that tabloid obsession with the film had already rendered my idea unoriginal. When I arrived in Thailand and the tabloid hype still hadn't let up, a new idea struck me: Why not live "The Beach" in reverse? Instead of seeking out a secret, untouched island, why not explore the most scrutinized island in all of Thailand? Why not try washing ashore on the movie set itself? The pure novelty of this notion has led to me this very point: seat 47K, Thai Air flight 211, which has now finally begun to accelerate down the runway. As the plane lifts off the ground and banks for its southward turn, a view of Bangkok fills my window. Below, urban Thailand spans out around the Chao Phraya River in symmetrical brown-gray grids that, from this altitude, look like the outer armor from a 1970s sci-fi movie spaceship. For an instant, the earth looks artificial and foreign, as if it's been taken over by aliens. The aliens, of course, are us. N E X T+P A G E | Paradise expired 10 years ago   ILLUSTRATION BY KATHERINE STREETER