Although Bangkok is great, I did want to see more of the country again on this trip, and if you’re going to be in a hot country, the best places to visit are the ones with beaches. So Monica and I headed down to an island in the Andaman Sea called Koh Lanta for a long weekend.
Koh Lanta is just a little south of Krabi/Ao Nang, where I spent a couple weeks last year. But it’s a whole world away in terms of energy and vibe. While Krabi/Ao Nang are packed with tourists and the tourist trades, Lanta is a lot more laid back and normal feeling.
Which isn’t to say it isn’t still dominated by tourism… but it’s a far more relaxed kind of tourist, a sort of lazy rural vibe, than the beaches further north.
The closest major airport is still Krabi. From there, it’s a couple hours south by minivan to where we stayed near the south end of Koh Lanta. There is, as is required of island visits, a brief ferry ride. There is also, as is the case pretty much everywhere in Thailand, a lot of hair-raising, white-knuckle close encounters at freeways speeds with motorbikes, dump trucks, pedestrians, buffalo, etc, etc.
Our trip down from the airport had the added drama of a medical emergency. A quartet of Russian tourists got on just after we left the airport. One of them, an overweight older woman, was obviously not feeling too well when she got in, but I didn’t think much of it–I don’t feel too well after being outside in 100 degree weather very long either, and they’d been sitting out in the open waiting for the bus.
But while I find myself revived by the air conditioning, she just sort of slumped in her seat with her eyes half-closed. I wasn’t paying a great deal of attention until one of her companions, behind me, started trying to get her attention, without success.
Although she was barely responsive (she eventually answered him), there weren’t any other obvious signs of illness. Her breathing seemed normal and she wasn’t sweating a great deal (although that, itself, can be a sign of heat stroke… but usually with increased respiration rate). You can feel pretty terrible without actually being in great danger, of course, or you can be dying without noticing it, but it wasn’t clear what could be done for her other than getting her to professional medical care, which our driver did at great speed.
Everyone else in the van was great about it… the guy sitting behind the woman moved so her seat could be lowered all the way back, and the woman on the other side of her reached out and held her hand for the rest of the trip. The guy behind me, who I took to be her son, was beside himself, but another of the Russians, her nephew (he spoke English on the phone with the clinic) calmly called ahead and arranged for a gurney to be outside when we arrived.
Like most such stories, I don’t know the ending to that one, but it’s just nice to see people trying to take care of one another in whatever ways they can, cultural barriers aside.
The rest of our ride to the hotel was uneventful. It was a place Monica had stayed before so it had the Monica stamp of approval, except for breakfast–“Not so good,” she said–and we got a cottage up on the hill near the infinity pool looking out over Bakantiang Beach. The views were gorgeous… jungle, beach, and ocean, the classic tropical paradise.
The cottage was spacious–a little too spacious, the AC had difficulty keeping up in the hottest parts of the day. But the big windows opened up to let the sea breeze blow through to quickly cool it down later in the day. And if the free breakfast didn’t quite meet the high Monica standards of approval, I thought it was at least serviceable, and the staff warm and friendly.
Bakantiang Beach is at the southern end of the island and relatively quiet even by quiet Koh Lanta standards. From an outsized proportion of farang buzzing through on scooters and motorbikes, I infer that the local roads are not quite as risky as in other parts of the country. There’s a handful of restaurants (one of which, Rock’n’Roll Thai, was excellent) and a coffee shop called Drunken Sailors, which was, naturally, ideal for me.
There’s also the ubiquitous 7 Eleven anchoring the community, which is hands-down the busiest place in town, and a couple of beach bars with live music for the younger crowd.
For someone my speed, it’s mostly just swimming and eating and laying around in a hammock reading, which suited me just fine.
But the highlight of the whole weekend was a day-long cruise and snorkeling trip we took to some nearby islands with Club Mermaid Cruises.
The whole Krabi district is festooned with ads for various charter boats taking people among the major destinations and out to the various small karst islands scattered between the mainland and Phuket. Tour booking operators are located about even forty feet along every street in the district, and most hotels will also be happy to set you up with a trip.
The trick is figuring out who to book with and what is the best price to get, and this is where Monica stepped up to work her Monica magic.
She already knew which boat she wanted to go on, and she checked with the hotel when we checked in to see about availability and cost. 2100 baht each, they said, with openings on Friday.
But she thought she might get a better price booking directly with the tour operator, so we wandered down the street to the sleepy little office where a tiny Thai lady with enormously thick glasses was manning a desk and watching Thai soap operas.
Her price was 2200 baht, which Monica relayed to me. I played my part, saying, “Well, we can just get it through the hotel, then,” but the Thai part of the conversation continued, and continued, and continued.
We ended up paying 2000.
Later, it was explained that I was the big hang-up–as is common here, there’s a Thai price and a farang price. It drives Monica nuts, which I guess I understand… if she was in the U.S. and we went to a park or show or something and they wanted to charge her more for being Asian I’d go ballistic.
On the other hand, as I’ve noted before, foreign tourists represent a lot of the traffic here at popular attractions. The costs of upkeep are probably steeper than could be maintained at Thai prices. To charge everyone the true costs, then, would simply price out a lot of the locals, while to charge everyone Thai prices would probably underfund services.
Anyway, I have the money and I’m happy to pay, but if Monica gets that bit in her teeth then heavy negotiations are sure to follow. The conversation was all laughing and smiling and a few phone calls in between but she got what she wanted.
The sole concession required was that we walk down to the beach in the morning instead of taking the free shuttle otherwise offered from the hotel–the lady didn’t want to piss off the hotel people by stealing a sale. But it was a nice walk anyway and we arrived early and hung out at an empty beach bar with some of the crew from the boat who were also waiting.
Monica had taken a tour with the same company a few months back. Single females apparently don’t do a lot of solo vacations in Thailand, and with the famous Thai absence of reticence at asking awkward questions, she’d had to endure all manner of interrogation from almost everyone she encountered on that trip.
As a consequence, however, nearly everyone on the crew remembered her, and we benefited greatly by that prior association.
As the other tourists started showing up, they were packed into a narrow long tail for a trip out to the big tour boat, but the lady with the thick glasses (there ticking off attendance on a clip board) motioned us back… we got shuttled out in the boat’s inflatable dinghy instead.
We grabbed a seat on the upper deck on the starboard side. Most of the seats on the upper deck were already taken but these, in the beating sun, were wide open. But we were swinging at anchor in a light southerly breeze and I knew from the location of the islands that we’d be screened by the superstructure when we got underway for Koh Ha, to the west.
One of the crew, a wiry guy who looked a little older than the average crewman (they were all men on this trip) recognized Monica and stopped to chat. He gestured to the long table that ran down the center of the upper deck and said something in Thai that needed no translation.
We were warned ahead of time by all and sundry that on a boat with Chinese tourists, you’d better be ready to use some elbows and jump fast when the food came out. The crewman was telling us he was getting ready to lay out some snacks and we should get ready.
In the event, it wasn’t that bad. There was plenty of food and drink available all day long and they kept it coming… no stinginess or paucity of supply was in evidence. When things did get crowded, from time to time, the guy with the mustache would take care to fix a separate plate before he laid out the course and deliver it directly to me and Monica. Similarly, when they started handing out fins, snorkels, and masks, the crew didn’t make us sort through the pile but instead brought each of us a set directly.
The weather was beautiful, a light southerly just barely rippling the water and sunshine, sunshine, sunshine, glittering off the wavelets and lighting up the superstructure and casting the islands in a neon shade of green outlined in shocking white beaches. It took about an hour to get to Koh Ha, the first stop. The boat caught a mooring ball just off a sheer cliff on the east side of the island. Beside the cliff, a small cove with a beach had been roped off with floats. A handful of other boats were moored around the periphery but it wasn’t crowded.
There’s not a great deal of organization on Thai-led tours, so there was no announcement or anything, but we shuffled below and onto the after deck with the crowd and put our gear on.
Pushing off the swim step and taking the first plunge into the clear blue water was like being dunked in magic. Right in front of my eyes, schools of colorful fish hovered a few feet below the surface, moving leisurely about their business as if there weren’t a horde of humans dropping through their ceiling. Below, coral heads and unidentified sea plants dotted the white sandy sea floor with spectacularly strange growths in purple and grays and greens.
Larger fish cruised solo through the coral, strolling along through the crowds on a leisurely hunt for lunch. There were creatures on the sand that I didn’t know the name of but if they aren’t called sea slugs there is simply no taxonomical justice in this world. Spiky sea urchins dotted the coral tops. Anemones waved in the light current.
When Monica spotted the clownfish darting in and out of their poisonous tendrils, I could actually hear her squeal underwater.
The water was bathwater warm. The snapping, swishing, and swooshing of fish feeding and living their lives popped all around us. Although other people were snorkeling nearby, it was easy to imagine we were completely alone, the world reduced to the scope of the mask.
I’m not even sure how long we were at Koh Ha, but it was the perfect amount of time. We were headed back to the boat just as they tossed out a buoy on a line (apparently, and also unexplained ahead of time, this was the signal to return), and we beat the rush at the swim step. They had hoses to wash off after getting out, and more food and drink ready and waiting.
Koh Rok was the next stop on the itinerary. About an hour south, it’s a larger spot, actually two islands, with more beaches and fewer cliffs. The snorkeling wasn’t quite as amazing–the depths were such that the interesting stuff was all too deep or too shallow–but the water was just as lovely and we spent some time in the shade on the beach, watching people play.
Koh Rok is actually a national park, and is technically protected from various harmful activities, or at least as protected as you get in Thailand. The mooring balls, for example, were just tied off to coral heads, which I imagine isn’t great for either the coral or the mooring line.
But they do take some things fairly seriously. When we returned to the boat and sat down on the upper deck, I watched Monica’s face fall as she looked at the Chinese family next to us. I turned to see what she was looking at.
A little girl had scooped some sand and a little crab into a plastic bag to take home. The crab scuttled around in the bag as she giggled and watched it. Then she set it down on the deck with the rest of their stuff.
“It’s not right,” Monica said. “She shouldn’t take it.” She got up and walked quickly aft, then reappeared with a crewman, who she knew could speak Chinese. She pointed to the family and said something to him.
Without so much as a word, he walked over, grabbed the bag, and disappeared below, presumably to return the crab to its native habitat. The family was so shocked they didn’t even say anything.
He returned later and had a chat with them, explaining, I imagine, what the rules were, but I was impressed at the immediate and unilateral action. Of course, preserving the tourist destinations is their livelihood, but all too often in Thailand it’s a tragedy of the commons until everything has been ruined.
The rest of the trip was just a boat ride, but a lovely one. We cruised around the light house at the southern tip of Koh Lanta just in time for sunset, then back up along the shoreline to Bakantiang Bay.
Along the way, I watched one of the crew, a younger guy who Monica had told me had helped her out on her last trip, flirt with a few of the local girls on board. Just before we got back to Bakantiang, the boat slowed down and he ushered them into the dinghy and headed for shore–presumably dropping them closer to home. Although I couldn’t understand a word of what was said, I could tell the other crewmen were teasing him and laughing amongst themselves and he grinned and kept shaking his head as they yelled across the water to him. Teasing is truly the international language.
