After three super-chilled nights on laid-back Lanta, it’s time for a change of scenery once again, so today we’re taking another ferry – this time to Krabi. Each ferry ride takes a couple of hours, costs about 350 baht per person (about £8) and includes minibus transfers to the pier.

We savour the last morning at Moonlight Exotic Bay Resort; pottering around collecting shells and watching the hermit crabs crawling across the rocks. The hotel supplies delicious-smelling organic aromatherapy bath products by a brand I’ve not heard of called Voyag, and we decide to purchase gallons of them when we check out. I’m fully aware that recreating the tranquillity and beauty of Thailand in my 2-bed terrace in Kent may take some imagination, but I’m hoping that the scents and textures will jog my memory, and if I squeeze my eyes really tight I’ll be transported back to Koh Lanta…

I’m jolted from my daydream by the horn-honking of our ride to the pier, and we squeeze into the van alongside a large Chinese family. The ferry departs at 1.30, and by 3.15pm the stunning rock formations of Krabi are coming into view…

We are staying at Railay Beach, which is only reachable by longtail boat, so we have to clamber in a most ungainly fashion over the side of the ferry and onto the much smaller boats below, which hold about ten people each. As Ali G used to say: “West siiiide is da best siiide!” and sure enough, Railay West is the best, with a white sandy beach and a stunning backdrop of cliffs all around – yet accommodation gets very booked up and more expensive on this side, so like us, most people on our longtail are staying at Railay East. Our taxi-boat owner wants to charge everyone another 200 baht each to take us over to the east side, but the loud protests indicate that nobody is prepared to pay extra since we’d all been told the price we’d already paid was direct to Railay East. This unfortunately riles our skipper, who mutters what I can only assume are Thai profanities under his breath, before stopping the boat miles from the beach and demanding we all get out. Oh.

Being the stoic (ie stubborn) Westerners that we are, we refuse to pay again; instead piling suitcases, rucksacks (and even babies in one family’s case) onto our heads and wading in the sea up to our thighs all the way to the beach. The shallows in Krabi go for miles! And the tide seems to come waaay in and out at a surprising rate. To add to the challenge, the sea is full of rocks and chunks of dead coral, leading to several stubbed toes, grazes and yelps of pain. We tentatively inch forward using our toes to feel the way before putting our full weight down – not easy when you’re carrying 15kgs of luggage above your head.

Finally, we’re back on dry land, and head over the skinny peninsula to the east side. The first thing that hits us on this mid-afternoon mission is the smell: weed.

Everywhere you look there are Jamaican colours, references to Bob Marley and stoner hippy types; the unmistakable aroma of weed curls under your nose as it emanates from the shack-style bars made from wood and palm leaves. I’m slightly surprised by how brazen it is, since there are few places scarier to get caught with drugs than Thailand. Having met a few people on my travels who have experienced Thai jails, I hear that ‘Bangkok Hilton’ is not too far from reality…

We pass an area we later nickname ‘Monkey Corner’ on our way to our hotel, so-called because it’s home to a large number of cheeky macaques, who flirt with tourists before attempting to steal food, sunglasses, or whatever unsecured items they can get their little mitts on. Don’t be fooled by their seduction techniques, the Monkey Mafia is responsible for most of the organised crime in Railay. Finally, we come to our hotel over on the east side and instantly see why this side’s cheaper: the beach is not so much a beach as an area of dense mangroves, and the tide is way out, revealing a kind of brown muddy silt rather than inviting white sand.

The Anyavee hotel is a world away from Lanta’s fabulous Moonlight Bay, but is directly on the beach, has a decent pool and is nice enough for our requirements for a few nights. After unpacking a bit we head back out for a mosey around, and Luke and I decide to sample The Black Pearl’s mushroom shake, washing it down with a vodka mango.

Mum, meanwhile, is sipping a fruit shake on the beach. An hour or so later and the mushroom concoction seems to be doing its thang; I feel mildly giddy and giggly…and then completely paranoid. Time seems to slow down to a ridiculous pace – so much so that it feels like about midnight…but is actually only 8pm. Ha! We watch the sunset on the beach, surrounded by hippies, then eat Pad Thais and have a few cocktails at one of the few restaurants, before taking Mum back to the hotel room to bed.

Having mocked all the cautious tourists carrying huge rolled-up umbrellas around “just in case”, they have the last laugh when the heavens open on the way back to the hotel and we are promptly soaked to the skin. When it rains in Thailand, it RAINS. We’re talking biblical proportions. We retreat to our rooms to wait for the rain to stop, and eventually it does…but the water outside my room is calf-deep, and Luke has to come and rescue me. Having seen a few snakes already in Thailand, I’m paranoid that they’ll be out in force after the downpour.

Wading back to the Black Pearl in Railay West, we order some more drinks and chat to some people as we all sit around the bar, including a dishevelled hippy couple and a pretty British actress from West London who’s travelling alone, having split from her husband. A blind Thai man approaches the bar and starts fire-dancing – which is pretty impressive in itself, as he throws the lit baton high into the air…and then he takes it to another level by balancing on a tightrope between two trees at chest-height whilst spinning his lit batons this way and that.

Feeling peckish, we go off in search of salt and vinegar crisps (Luke and I are huge fans), avoiding the bullfrogs crossing our paths, and then, slightly squiffy, eat a giant family-sized bag each in bed before falling asleep on a bed of crumbs. Stay classy!

30th January

Whilst eating our breakfast with one hand and swatting away a ridiculous amount of wasps with the other (fancy putting bowls of jam out at the buffet…fail!), we spot a huge snake swimming in the sea, weaving its way towards the mangroves. I knew my snake fears were not unfounded!

Despite the dramas on Phi Phi when we trekked up to the viewing point (I was sick as a dog from food poisoning and almost collapsed in the midday sun), we decide to check out the hike to Railay’s viewpoint this morning. We make the short walk across to Ao Phra Nang beach and caves, which is where the viewpoint starts. And then we stop. The pathway up to the viewpoint is via a vertical climb up a cliff-face covered in orange clay, with only a rope for assistance. We decide to give it a miss, as we watch other tourists puffing and panting in the 35-degree heat, clinging to the rope, slippery with sweat as they search out their next foothold. There is no such thing as Health and Safety in Thailand, and I’m gobsmacked to see parents pushing terrified kids as young as three or four past the warning signs and up the cliff face, which is extra-slippery after the deluge last night. What the…?!

We marvel at the mystical stalactites and stalagmites of the huge caves as we follow the pathway through them. As we round the corner onto the beach, we’re taken aback: the view is breathtaking. So many times on this trip we’ve been bowled over by the outstanding natural beauty of these islands. Words simply cannot describe it. ‘Paradise’ sounds like a tired old cliché, but it’s the closest word I can think of to describe this place: gorgeous white sands and crystal clear waters set against a backdrop of limestone cliffs covered in dense green foliage. Simply unforgettable.

Obviously, we’re not the only ones who think so, and this is high season (October to March), so the beach is pretty busy, with people of all nationalities delighting in the sun, sea and scenery. Longtail boats fashioned as street food stalls are lined up along the shore, and the aromas of lemongrass and garlic fill the air.

We find ourselves a decent spot directly opposite the vast shard of rock jutting out from the ocean and Luke and I challenge ourselves to swim out to it. It’s further than it looks, and we are exhausted by the time we’ve swum there and back.

We collapse in the sun to dry off, before checking out one of the longtail food stalls for lunch. A meal is the equivalent of just a pound or two and is delicious. We wash it down with fruit shakes and spend the afternoon soaking up the sun (okay, getting burnt to a cinder). An hour or so later the tide has gone out so much that people are now able to simply wade through the sea across to the mountain we’d taken ages to swim over to earlier.

The more adventurous holidaymakers are scaling the limestone cliffs under the close supervision of skilled rock-climbers, and Luke and I go for a walk, spotting the famous fertility shrine, which is basically a series of large carved wooden phalluses strategically positioned in the opening (vagina) of a little cave. Oo-er missus!

When the sun gets too much we go back to the hotel and chill by the pool, being entertained by a family of curious macaque monkeys who jump and cavort around in front of us. Things turn mischievous when they decide to tip the bins out looking for food, and the hotel staff are not impressed with the mess, throwing stones to try and scare them off. Our hotel obviously hasn’t paid its protection money, so the Monkey Mafia has shown up to show them who’s boss, chucking bottles and food wrappers over their shoulders as they forage around for tidbits. Eventually they’ve had enough, and move onto the next establishment, sneering over their shoulders with a look that says: “We’ll be back…”

The evening brings another ark-worthy deluge so we eat at a restaurant close to the hotel before heading off to bed, ready for an early start in the morning when we’ll hike up to the viewpoint.

31st January

The next morning the sun is shining as brightly as ever; zero evidence remains of the monsoon from the night before. Considering this is the dry season, it’s rained more (only at night, thankfully) during this trip than the times I’ve visited Thailand in the rainy season.

Did I say ‘we’ would be trekking up to the viewpoint? I meant Luke. When we arrive at the base of the muddy mountain, Mum and I look up at it dubiously…before opting to wait on the beach nearby.

I think we’ll just settle for seeing his pictures, I think to myself. Sure enough, Luke comes back some time later, having got covered from head to foot in red clay and leaked out several pints of sweat. We swim, sun ourselves and feast on treats from the boat sellers. Yesterday was salt and pepper shrimp; today basil chicken with vegetables.

Later, we take a longtail boat (300b) around the headland to Tonsai Bay, where a curious lizard tries to climb into Luke’s bag, before resting his weary head on a little rock. Cute!

Then….dun dun dunnnn….disaster strikes. Mum gets ill. Like really ill. We’re sitting at a beach bar when she gets that panic-stricken look that has become all too familiar on this holiday; it either means one of us is about to throw up…or follow-through. Usually both. She scuttles off, thighs clamped together, to the loo around the back of the bar, and is violently ill. On these beaches, there’s always the grave danger of a shart attack. No that’s not a typo – sharting is a real and present danger; more likely and almost as attention-grabbing as a shark attack. We have to get her back to the hotel, but the boats have all disappeared, it’s scorching hot and we’re literally stranded on a desert island. Uh oh. Fortunately, by the time she is able to regain her composure enough to stagger along, crab-stylee, the tide has gone out again and we manage to manhandle her over the rocks and around the bay until we’re safely back at Railay. She’s sick as a dog and doesn’t leave the room again until we have to travel the next day to Phang Nga. Man down!

With Mum out of the game, Luke and I decide to stay close to the hotel and sit by the pool. We’re glad we do, as we’re once again treated to the nightly show by the troop of wild monkeys, and we have ringside seats by the bins.

Once again, they fool about, terrorising tourists, much to the fury of the staff….only this time there’s another breed of monkey as well as the mischievous macaques: the capuchins. These gorgeous creatures have smaller, rounder heads, black rings around their eyes, and are much more well behaved. If the macaques are ASBO hoodies, the capuchins are the innocent little choir boys.

Remember Chicaboo monkey toys in the eighties? These are real-life versions of those. They swing from the trees, playing and cuddling…and then I see possibly the cutest thing I’ve Ever. Seen. In. My. Life. A mother capuchin cradling a tiny ginger baby. Oh em geeeee! Off the charts gorgeous! I manage to capture a photo of mum and baby:

Another night, another EPIC storm, as the black sky is illuminated by forks of lightning over the limestone cliffs. At least the sound of the rain hitting the tin roof next door drowns out the sounds of Mum’s death-throe groans. Luke and I venture out for pizza and Changs, before hitting the hay, ready for the (400b) mission of a trip to Phang Nga in the morning, involving a longtail boat and no less than three buses…

Published tomorrow:

The Thai Diaries: Phang Nga Bay (6/6)

Sam x

Fancy reading my back-story before you go any further? You can find my other blogs at:

www.costaricachica1.blogspot.com
www.samgoessolo.blogspot.com
www.mummymission.blogspot.com
www.worldwidewalsh.blogspot.com

Follow me:

Twitter: @SamanthaWalsh76 
Facebook: @lifeabirdseyeview
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The post The Thai Diaries: Krabi (5/6) appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.

The next morning we head down to Charlie’s House for a wholesome brekkie of avocado toast with poached eggs to set ourselves up for the ferry ride across to Koh Lanta. We pass by the ribbon tree, a Buddhist shrine dedicated to the thousands of people who lost their lives here in the Boxing Day tsunami. There are now tsunami sirens, escape route signs and a meeting point, but you wonder how much use these would really be in the event of a repeat of those 35ft waves of Boxing Day 2004, which claimed the lives of around 280,000 people. The Thais are spiritual people, and there have been many claims of Phi Phi ghost sightings since that terrible day (the majority of Thais believe ghosts reside in most large trees and keep a spirit house outside the home, where daily offerings of food and drink are given to calm nearby paranormal entities).

The guys working at our bungalows offer to run our luggage down to the pier on a big trolley (there are no cars or tuk-tuks on Phi Phi), and in view of the intensity of the sun and the mild bucket hangovers, we gratefully accept. It’s the usual scrum to get onto the boat, teetering over the water whilst carrying our luggage as we step gingerly from one boat across to ours. This time we opt for the dimly-lit icebox that is the level below deck and the gentle rocking of the boat means we struggle to stay awake, our eyelids heavy as we attempt to read our chick-lit novels (Luke included – he’s one of the chicks, after all).

A couple of hours later and the island of Koh Lanta slowly comes into focus. The pier is busy with locals offering to carry our bags, shouting the names of various hotels and carrying placards bearing the names of guests they’ve been sent to collect. We are approached by one woman offering us a ride to our next hotel about 45 minutes’ drive away, so we negotiate a price of 150 baht (about £3 each) and she leads us away from the throng. Expecting an air-con’d minibus, we’re somewhat taken aback when instead she leads us to…a battered old tuk-tuk. It’s basically a moped with a sidecar which has clearly seen better days. Rightio. We pour ourselves in and pile the luggage on top, and set off shakily along the road.

This thing sounds like a hairdryer and does a maximum speed of about 20 miles per hour, so we settle in for the ride, having resigned ourselves to the fact that we won’t be reaching our destination anytime soon. The wind whips in our hair and the journey is strangely exhilarating. Yes, it’s quite a buzz – not knowing if the next lorry to overtake us on a hairpin bend will be the one that wipes us out…

We arrive at our resort, Moonlight Exotic Bay, looking like we’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards. Walking unsteadily up the gravel drive to the grand reception of this impressive-looking hotel, we quickly rake our hands through our hair self-consciously and attempt to subtly extract our now-wedgied shorts from our backsides. The reception staff pretend not to notice our dishevelled state, and we’re led to our room. It’s a “Wow!” moment: this place is the BOMB! (Especially compared to the more basic accommodation we’ve just had on Phi Phi.) Woohoo! Nice one, Hotels.com.

I got a wicked deal on this particular hotel, paying a fraction of the regular price. The average hotel cost for this trip has been 25 quid each a night, and this place with the discount is the same price, which is an absolute result when we look around the resort. Our room is facing onto one of the pools and the mangrove-lined creek, over which is a bridge leading to a bigger pool, gym, restaurant, bungalows, yoga studio, private beach and uber-chic cocktail bar. This place oozes Scandi-style luxe with its minimalist interiors and laid-back luxe. Oooh yeah, we think, we’re gonna like it here juuuust fine…

The room, a large and stylish space in shades of pale grey and charcoal with a huge king-size bed and giant beanbags, proves perhaps a little too comfortable and our quick siesta turns into a mammoth kip. The call of our growling stomachs is only slightly louder than the roar of our snores, but eventually we are roused from our sun-induced comatose state by the urge to eat and head sleepily down to the beachfront restaurant.

The resort is stunning enough in the daytime, but by night it’s magical: twinkly lights illuminate the wooded complex, making it look like something out of a fairytale. It is so still, tropical and peaceful – one of the most calming resorts I’ve ever stayed at. We cross over the creek via the wooden bridge and follow the winding lit pathway past the gym (which is always empty), pool and hillside bungalows until we come to the open-air beachfront restaurant. We order recommended dishes from the specials board (the Thai beef salad is deliciously tinged with aromatic lemongrass), and chat to the extremely friendly waiting staff, who manage to create just the right vibe: a relaxed yet professional atmosphere. Now fully awake, we become aware of the beat of soulful house music playing in the distance and decide to follow our ears to the source of the tunes…

Hyperion is the on-site cocktail bar, perfect for those balmy evenings spent sipping margaritas and gazing wistfully out over the ocean as it laps gently back and forth over the rocks below. The decking is on stilts above the rocks and has cut-out sections covered with nets, so you can recline whilst drinking your cocktail and see through to the rocks below, which is kind of a cool idea. There are tons of quirky props and features all around the bar which add to the experience and which wouldn’t look out of place at a trendy London nightclub. It’s Friday night, and a guest DJ is selecting the perfect ear-candy: an uplifting blend of disco, vocal house and trance tracks that get Mum and I toe-tapping and bopping about on our net-seats…which isn’t easy, let me tell ya. At midnight, after a couple of drinks, including a banana daiquiri (me) and a mind-blowingly strong Irish coffee (De Mama), we shuffle back to our dreamily comfortable beds for some more shut-eye.

It feels like we’ve only been asleep for about five minutes (although it’s actually been five hours) when Mum’s phone starts going nuts and she leaps up, bleary-eyed and sweating Irish coffee from every pore to answer it. The extended family back home are out celebrating Dad’s birthday at a Chinese restaurant, and she’s greeted by about ten very raucous family members via Facetime. It’s seven hours behind in the UK, so it’s 10pm on Friday night for them, but 5am Saturday for us. She doesn’t seem fazed by the fact she’s being broadcast to the entire restaurant with her hair sticking up at right angles and wearing a nightie…but I’m mortified at the prospect and burrow under the covers and back to sleep…

27th January

Waking up slightly disorientated, it takes a moment or two to register where I am. Moving from island to island every few days will do that to you. It’s not exactly a hardship though, moving from one paradise island to another, and when it dawns on us that we’ve not got long left at this rather lovely resort we’re eager to get down to breakfast at the beachfront restaurant and then explore.

We lean out over the balcony and enjoy the feeling of the hot sun on our skin (it’s boiling already and it’s only 8am) as we drink our morning cuppa: English Breakfast, naturally. (Are you even British if you don’t take your own tea bags on your holibobs?).

We are surrounded by lush greenery, geckos and huge colourful butterflies. It’s beautiful. Mum even spots a giant Jurassic-looking monitor lizard swimming in the creek below….and later a bright green snake as it slithers off into a nearby bush. We feast on a delicious buffet breakfast and select a couple of comfy sunbeds in a prime spot on the decking overlooking the private beach, settling down with our books for a blissful day of sunbathing. (Yep, that’s about the extent of our ‘exploring’). It is perfectly silent, save for the sound of the gentle music playing at the bar, complemented by the rhythmic motion of the waves.

Suddenly, the silence is broken by Mum’s shrieks, and I leap up from my lounger in alarm. No wonder these ‘prime spot’ sunbeds had not been snapped up by any other eagle-eyed sun-worshippers…they are positioned under some trees which it has only now become apparent are host to all kinds of weird and wonderful wildlife. I’ve already picked several tiny caterpillars off my body…and now a gliding dragon lizard has plopped down onto Mama Bird’s bed.

Paralysed by shock and fear, both Mum and the lizard stay stock still as they eye each other nervously, giving me plenty of time to capture the moment on my phone, sniggering away.

The lizard eventually tires of his photoshoot and makes a dash for the tree, clinging to the trunk with his claws. I zoom in to get another shot of his neon-yellow neck…and something amazing happens. The yellow markings on his neck unfurl to become a membrane stretching right down to his chest. A later Google search reveals this membrane to be a ‘gular fold’ used to stabilise the lizard, and he also has wings, allowing effortless gliding. He’s called a Draco Maculatis, and even the hotel staff I show later tell me they’ve never seen one. (They are so impressed with my photos they use them on their Instagram page, which makes me hashtag chuffed). After that we are slightly wary of sitting under those trees though.

In the evening, Luke joins us from his hotel, Lanta Palace, and we all jump in a tuk-tuk to Long Beach for dinner.

We discover a decent Happy Hour and live music at The Funky Monkey, so order a shit-ton of cocktails (well Happy Hour’s ending in ten minutes so we figure we may as well make the most of it) and hook upto the wifi like the phone junkies we are. An hour or so later and we’re vaguely aware of everything starting to shut down for the evening, so shimmy off in search of dinner. It’s only 10pm, but The Red Snapper (a restaurant that comes highly rated online) is closing, and so is everywhere else by the looks of it. We finally find somewhere still willing to cook for us, and eat some spicy Thai food before hailing a tuk-tuk back to the comfort of our air-conditioned room; it’s still stiflingly hot and humid here, even at night.

Koh Lanta is the quietest and most chilled out of all the islands we visited, and is not as conducive to nightlife as the other islands, mainly because the resorts, bars and restaurants tend to be situated along a main road around the coastline, rather than the meandering villagey feel of, say, Phi Phi. Going out requires transport and a degree of effort that is hard to muster when you’re feeling blissfully relaxed and the hotel itself is just so bloody gorgeous.

28th January

Another day dawns, and we are hyper-aware that our time at this dreamy resort is limited. We breathe in the sea air, potter around collecting shells on the beach and swim in the warm sea. If you’ve never been to Thailand before, let me tell you that the Andaman Sea is probably the warmest ocean you’ll ever swim in; it’s like stepping into bathwater.

Luke joins us doing his best David Dickinson impression (ie suddenly looking as brown as one of the mahogany sideboards on the Real Deal) and we soak up the rays until the sun goes down, when we move just a few feet to Hyperion Bar for our nightly ritual of cocktails reclining on the nets. As the sun slides down into the ocean, I wish I could bottle this perfect moment. I’m aware that I’m always trying to memorise these amazing experiences, wanting to imprint every blissful minute on my internal hard drive, ready to recall on a rainy winter’s afternoon upon my return.

Having had a large lunch, we opt for brownies and ice cream in lieu of dinner and, feeling full and lazy, we all turn in early to sleep off the boozy cocktails. (We turn the aircon to the coldest setting to try and burn some of these calories off in the night…to no avail, of course).

Tomorrow, we set sail for Krabi…

Published tomorrow:

The Thai Diaries: Krabi (5/6)

Sam x

Fancy reading my back-story before you go any further? You can find my other blogs at:

www.costaricachica1.blogspot.com
www.samgoessolo.blogspot.com
www.mummymission.blogspot.com
www.worldwidewalsh.blogspot.com

Follow me:

Twitter: @SamanthaWalsh76 
Facebook: @lifeabirdseyeview
Instagram: @lifeabirdseyeview

The post The Thai Diaries: Koh Lanta (4/6) appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.

After breakfast and bidding fond farewells to our lovely hosts (half the hotels we stay at on this trip are run by a European guy and his Thai wife) we take a minibus to the pier. The 45-minute bus journey plus two-hour ferry ride is 350 baht each (about eight quid). Despite being pretty well organised, boarding the ferry becomes a bun-fight, as nobody seems able to grasp the (apparently alien) concept of q-u-e-u-e-i-n-g. Highly annoying. Being terribly British, we refuse to push in…and are subsequently shoved out of the way by a bunch of Scandi Neanderthals who’ve clearly been sharpening their elbows all morning especially. Grrr!

Nevertheless, we bag ourselves some prime seats on the front deck, slather ourselves in suncream, and begin to enjoy the scenery…which is not so much the view from the boat as the view on the boat: a swarthy, olive-skinned model-type dude with more of a 12-pack than a measly six-pack is slowly rubbing coconut oil into his rock-hard abs and taking endless chisel-cheeked selfies, turning this way and that with his selfie stick. How do you choose your best angle when they are all your best angles? I ponder his lucky predicament for a moment. However what starts off as drool-worthy soon becomes downright embarrassing…and when he’s still making love to the camera an hour into the journey we can’t stop simultaneously eyeball-rolling and cracking up at his narcissism. He doesn’t notice of course – he only has eyes for himself.

By 3.15pm we’re approaching Phi Phi Don, the larger of the two Phi Phi islands (the other, Phi Phi Leh, is uninhabited and visited on day trips) – and boy, is she stunning: smooth white sands, clear blue sea and limestone foliage-covered mountains jutting out of the ocean all around. She makes Mr Perfect over there look positively flawed by comparison. As soon as we disembark at Tonsai Pier I immediately detect a similarity between this place and Koh Tao, one of my favourite Thai islands, as it has a distinctly village-y feel: winding footpaths with bars, dive schools, bungalows and cute little stalls lining each side. Like Koh Tao, there are no cars on this island. We instantly fall in love with it.

We struggle with our bags in the intense heat and humidity, sweating our way along until we come to our bungalows.

Chunut House is a little village of palm leaf-roofed bamboo huts, dotted haphazardly in a dense jungle setting surrounded by lush green undergrowth. We freshen up and head down to one of the beachfront restaurants, where I eat (what I think is) a delicious Panang curry. Little do I know that it won’t be the last time I see it (TMI, sorry). When I request that it not be too hot, I meant spicy…

Several hours later, and the rain arrives. And when I say rain, I mean RAIN. Epic amounts. I attempt to Facetime a contact in Athens about an upcoming blog booking, but it’s pitch black and deafening so we give up, arranging to speak when I get back to the UK.

We head out to buy Nutella and banana pancakes (because, Nutella) and duck into one of the massage shops to escape the downpour. It seems everyone else has had a similar idea as the place is busy, so we relax into adjoining reclining seats and settle in for an hour-long foot and leg treatment. With the state of my trotters (disclaimer: retail wrecks your feet) the therapist has got her work cut out, and I half expect her to reach for an angle grinder instead of a bit of coconut oil.

Luke and I are gossiping away until his square-jawed ladyboy therapist scowls, tuts loudly, and tells us to shut up in a distinctly unladylike manner. Feeling reprimanded, we giggle and close our eyes and I drift off to sleep…

An hour later our feet have been sufficiently pummelled and the rain has stopped. We explore a bit more, stopping to watch the fire-dancing at Slinky’s and the raucous goings-on down at the Ibiza Pool Party. We make a note of the next pool party (Thursday) and vow to return.

Arriving back at our bungalow we are greeted by a cacophony of active wildlife: bullfrogs, birds and God-knows-what-else are conversing loudly in the trees and bushes. We need that moody ladyboy from the massage parlour to give them a talking to about the noise levels. Our neighbours in the next-door bungalow explain that the loud belching noises coming from the bushes are in fact trumpet frogs. There must be so many of them that it’s not so much one trumpet as an entire orchestra; we have to shout above the din to hear one another. That’s fine, I think – so long as they stay in the bushes where they belong…

24th January

Having been sung to sleep by the frog chorus, I am rudely awoken at the crack of dawn by similar belching and rumbling noises – only this time they are coming from…my stomach. Clutching my gut I lurch out of bed and into the bathroom. This is not good. We have arranged to hike up to the Phi Phi viewpointthis morning, and I refuse to succumb to Delhi Belly, so I force down an omelette at The Mango Garden restaurant (since it comes so highly rated) and off we go. Because hiking up a vertical incline in blistering heat at 11am with a dodgy tummy is the obvious thing to do, right? Right..?

Nope.

It’s a stoopid idea. After staggering halfway to the top, I have to stop to throw up, drenched in sweat, in the bushes. When I reappear Mum is hunched over too. Thinking she’s also been struck down with the lurgy, I go over to see what’s occurring…and discover the reason she’s bent double is that she’s inspecting a dead snake on the path. Yuk! A family of curious macaques appear on the road, and they are somehow both adorable and menacing at the same time. I think it’s the human characteristics (cute) and the sharp teeth (menacing). Every fibre of my being is telling me to turn back; I’m so sick, but we’ve come this far and I’ve committed now, so I crawl to the summit like the hero I am (not).

Having hauled my sorry ass to the top, which takes over an hour in my pathetic state, I finally manage to stand shakily upright and survey the view. And what a view it is.

You can see both sides of the skinny peninsula and it is absolutely breathtaking. We just about manage to get some amazing shots (I wear Mum’s straw hat to disguise the fact that I am decidedly green around the gills), and I find some wifi and upload the picture to my Instagram. Luke high fives me and cries “Doing it for the ‘Gram!” and this becomes one of our catchphrases of the trip.

In the afternoon I’m still sick as a dog but refuse to be beaten by a dodgy curry and insist on going on a five-hour boat trip. As ya do. This is a big mistake. Huge. I spend most of the time with my head held over the side of the boat, butt-cheeks clenched, trying not to show myself up by allowing the offending bug to unwittingly escape from any orifice.

Monkey Beach does exactly as it says on the tin: it’s a beach full of monkeys. When our longtail boat chugs up to the island to join the other twenty or so boatloads of tourists already there, we can only see one monkey. One?! This one big macaque is taking full advantage of the fact that nobody has yet spotted the other hundred of them further up the beach and is sitting on a low tree branch, posing and mugging for the camera. Remember that macaque who nicked the photographer’s camera a few years back and started snapping selfies? It’s exactly like that. Too funny.

The trip continues: to Maya Bay (which will close May-Sep, click for details) where The Beach was filmed (if only Leo di Cap were still here, now that would be a sight for sore eyes) and various other stop-offs. We jump off the side of the boat to snorkel (yes, even me, butt-cheeks and teeth clenched), yet despite the clear blue waters and beautiful surroundings, there are precious few fish. Save for a few Nemos and the odd tiger fish, the sea is, well, empty. Given that there are about thirty other diesel-fuelled boats chugging noisily in the vicinity, each packed with whooping groups of sightseers, it’s hardly surprising that the fish are refusing to parade themselves for our viewing pleasure…

Eventually, I concede defeat and the food poisoning gets the better of me. I leave Mum and Luke to continue on the boat trip. They are going plankton-hunting, keen to spot a phenomenon whereby the fish turn phosphorescent after dark to scare off predators (“Gotta do it for the ‘Gram”, says Luke), and I lurch off into the sunset in search of my darkened air-conned room and a long lie-down.

When they return, I’m twisting up the bedsheets and mumbling something incoherent under my breath, so they shuffle off for pizzas and leave me to sweat it out…

25th January

Thankfully, the next day I’m back in the game and game for a pool party. Well, whaddya take me for – a lightweight?! Having had an impromptu 24-hour detox, I decide that a retox is just what the doctor ordered. Hardcore, you know the score. We head down to the beach and sunbathe near the Ibiza Pool Party hostel until the giant sound system suddenly crackles into life at 1pm and the pumping house music fires up the party.

De Mama immediately springs into life and starts doing Big Box, Little Box arm movements in the sea, much to the amusement of a stunning twenty-something girl nearby, who gives her a thumbs up: “ Nice moves!” I taught her everything she knows, I think, having spent the past twenty-five years playing banging house music in her presence. Looking at me ploughing into the Thai whiskey and Red Bull buckets with gusto you’d never know that a few hours earlier I was lying on my deathbed, wailing in agony, about to dictate my last will and testament. Nice one, immune system, you did it. High five!

We meet a couple of Londoners in the pool, black dudes from Tulse Hill: “But we’re thinking of moving: too many white folk in Brixton these days.” They hit on a couple of Russian girls over a game of ping-pong and disappear into the crowd. It’s starting to get fairly rowdy in the crowded pool – a congealed soup of buckets, testosterone and probably a gallon of wee (bleugh!) – so Luke and I climb out and flop onto the sand nearby like a couple of wonky walruses, before slipping into what we later describe as a Bucket Coma. After a while, I’m certain that I’ve killed off any remaining parasites in my gut with Thai whiskey and I think it’s safe to head home. Job done. Then it’s Luke’s turn to flatline in his room, whilst the (sober) Mama and I head out for pizzas – perfect hangover food at, ahem, about 9pm (listen, I’m not a lightweight, I’ve been ill, ok?). We stop by Kongsiam bar and listen to some live music (Bob Marley sung with a Thai accent is quite enthralling), then take the scenic route back home (not by choice; we both have an appalling sense of direction).

Then it’s time for bed as we’re on the move again in the morning. I have a close encounter with a cockroach the size of a small child during the night; I’m awoken by a loud scuttling sound coming from the bathroom to find the bloody thing walking over my toothbrush. FFS! I reckon it’s chuckling away as it does it too, the filthy critter. I sure am looking forward to some luxury at the next hotel…

Next stop: Koh Lanta.

Published tomorrow: 

The Thai Diaries: Koh Lanta (4/6). 

Sam x

Fancy reading my back-story before you go any further? You can find my other blogs at:

www.costaricachica1.blogspot.com
www.samgoessolo.blogspot.com
www.mummymission.blogspot.com
www.worldwidewalsh.blogspot.com

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