The key to grasping the basics of the Thai language, is to sound as much as possible like you're taking the piss. 'Sawadee kah' doesn't mean anything. But 'Sawadee kaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah' means hello*.
*unless you're a man, then it's 'Sawadee kraaaapp'
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"One night in Bangkok makes a hard man humble" played annoyingly on repeat in my brain throughout our 50 minute Angkor Air flight from Siem Reap. I couldn't even shake it as we approached the border officer at the surprisingly serene and enormous airport. From everything I'd heard, I was convinced this place was going to be a seedy riot of naughtiness, sprinkled with mass corruption...
It's not. Not that we experienced anyway. Bangkok is a massive, spread out city, abundant with sparkly high rise buildings, multi lane spaghetti-highways and even a hint of cultural diversity. Getting a metered cab was easy. Directing the driver wasn't necessary. Not once did he beep the horn, and neither did any other vehicles on the road. People actually drive in lanes in Bangkok. And silently.
We stayed at Siamaze Hostel. A little out of the way but without doubt the most luxurious hostel I've ever stayed in. Brand new. Spotless. Sparkling. Huge room. There was even a flat screen TV with hundreds of channels, including ITV Choice... We could watch Ant and Dec! And all for just $20 per night. We felt a million miles from Cambodia already.
During my drunken uni days in Southampton, five or so years ago... I'd often attend open mic nights at various alco-dispensing establishments. A regular performer (with a darn good voice and enviable guitar skills) was Kelly Mordecai. Although she and I had never conversed under sober conditions or any earlier than 11pm at night, we'd come to know one another through mutual friends, raucous antics, and energetic night club dancing.
As it turns out, Kelly is now head of the music department at an International School in Bangkok. A fairly new gig for her, having moved to the city in August. Prior to that she braved Beijing for an entire year. (HATES China. She hates China. In case you haven't read my many blogs on China... I'm not China's number one fan either.) and before that she taught in Qatar for a couple of years.
A drinking sesh reminiscent of yester year commenced promptly at 11am the day after our arrival. Guillaume and I met Kelly at Chatuchak Market. It's only open at weekends. It was Saturday. It's the biggest market in Thailand with more than 8000 vendors and 200,000 visitors per day (approx 30% are foreigners.) We thought we'd had close-to-enough of Asian markets in recent months, but Chatuchak is refreshingly different. The sellers don't want to hassle you there. They're laid back and not at all annoying. They're not all Asian either. I bought a dress from a Frenchman.
There's a bit of a festival vibe going on at Chatuchak. It was a baking hot day, must've been hovering around 35 degrees. Shoppers there are trendy, funky, mostly young-ish. There are colourful street performers, groovy musicians, aromatic food stalls of all varieties. It's busy and it's bustling and there's plenty of make-shift bars where you can quench your mighty thirst...
We weren't the only ones to enjoy a large G&T before noon. In fact, finding a shady spot at the bar to perch our posteriors was almost impossible. The only option was to squeeze between the rowdy patrons and share one of those low round wooden seats with a friend. The bar opens out on to the street so you can watch the people strolling merrily along with all their bags.
At the entrance; a small, round Spanish man with a moustache, dressed in the stereotypical attire of a Mediterranean chef, displayed strong indicators of being absolutely hammered. He was cooking the most enormous paella I've ever seen and entertaining passers by and everyone in the pub with his jiggly dance moves. He'd throw ingredients from impressive distances into the simmering pan and people would applaud. He also took to throwing vegetables at customers around the bar. Guillaume caught a green bean, much to the delight of onlookers, and threw it into the paella. It was all brilliantly silly.
Friends of Kelly's joined us for a while. Fellow international teachers from the United Kingdom. Two had flown up from Phuket for the weekend. They know each other from Schools in China, or through teaching friends of teaching friends. It seems to be a tight-knit community of fun-loving adventurers. One girl from Yorkshire who is now living with her husband (also a Yorkshireman, also a teacher) in southern Thailand, told us she would never go back to Britain.
Getting to Kelly's apartment was somewhat of an adrenaline pumping experience. Guillaume and I hopped onto the back of a 'motorbike taxi.' Three people. One small scooter. No helmets. I was glad to be fuelled up on a bit of Dutch courage. Wedged between my hubby and a smiley little Thai man, I held on tight as we whizzed and weaved at high speed through the narrowest of gaps in traffic. Kelly was behind us, un phased, on another motorbike taxi. ...It's how she gets to work everyday.
There's an Olympic sized swimming pool at Kelly's apartment complex. And a gym. And a hair salon, restaurant or two and a Seven Eleven selling beer. After a spot of pool-side lazing, pre-drinking and a small amount of dolling up, we were ready to hit the tiles.
Rebecca, who now works at the same school as Kelly, previously lived and worked in China for seven years. SEVEN YEARS. She likes China. She's from Cornwall. Beautiful, peaceful, empty Cornwall... It's a head scratcher. Anyway, she joined us on our night out and she's lovely.
At an outdoor restaurant, lit by vintage table lamps and bulbs suspended between posts fencing the area, a timid and easily confused 7ft skinny lady-boy with incredible eyebrows, served us more gin, and spicy curry.
Drinking continued at a roof top bar with live music, disco lights and panoramic views of the city. We ordered a bottle. A bottle of vodka. Kelly and Rebecca had done this with friends before. "We never finish it" they said. ...We finished it.
We were joined by two guys (after we'd finished the bottle and had moved on to 'dessert cocktails') - a cockney co-worker of the girls, and his visiting friend from home. He regaled us with hilarious, unrepeatable tales, worthy of a rock star biography. Despite living in Asia for 10 years now, his accent suggested he'd never left East London. I guess it makes sense that the characters of the international teaching community are interesting, intriguing, strong willed, eccentric and somewhat fearless. There's a TV series there for sure.
You might think we'd have drunk ourselves into a coma by now. But the night was still young, and half way across the world a rugby match was about to start. Wales were playing New Zealand. Kelly's welsh and loves rugby. She's even started playing on a team in Bangkok and has bruises to prove it.
The six of us travelled by tuk-tuk to an Irish bar in a dark alley. The rugby fans therein were mostly older men from New Zealand, accompanied by young Thai brides. One of them insisted on buying rounds of Jaegermeister for the entire bar. Kelly was exchanging text messages with her Dad throughout the game, sharing their thoughts and predictions for the match. She admitted that it's the one time she misses home a bit.
Wales lost. Obviously.
It was 4am when we got back to our hostel. On the enclosed outdoor deck at the back of the building, other backpackers were gathered - drinking, smoking and chatting. One each from France, Germany, Iran, Columbia, South Africa, and New Zealand. The last two were a gay couple who appeared to have stepped directly out of a sports catalogue. They'd met in South Africa, lived together in New Zealand and were on their way to the UK to house-sit at a relatives mansion in Berkshire. Little did we know, as we sat in a circle, deep in inebriated conversation about life, the world and everything in it, as the sun started to rise, that we were being eaten alive by a million mosquitoes...
With a massive hangover and at least 100 bites each covering our puffy, swollen legs, the next morning Guillaume and I decided to extend our stay at Siamaze Hostel by two days, so we could recover from our night out. Two days of crap food by the bucket load, and binge viewing "I'm A Celebrity - Get Me Out Of Here" concluded our time in Bangkok.
The 12 hour overnight bus journey to Krabi was a bit like taking a flight. We had to check in at the bus station and were given a time to board at our gate. We had assigned seats, which were on the top deck of the coach, and right at the front. (Yes!) The driver was dressed like a pilot, with a white shirt, striped shoulder boards and a cap. There was a hostess in uniform, who showed us to our seats, gave us a blanket and bottled water each, and later a breakfast muffin. She also gave safety instructions, pointing out the nearest exits. We were reminded to keep our seat belts fastened. The driver addressed the passengers prior to departure, and informed us of the weather conditions at our destination. I was half expecting a "10 minutes to destination, coach crew please be seated for arrival."
Krabi itself is a launching pad to many of Thailands most beautiful beaches. The town is small, dirty and quirky. There are night markets almost every day of the week. The largest of which centres around an outdoor stage where locals of all ages perform karaoke, and occasional bands play. In front of the stage are rows of yellow tables and chairs where people drink Singha and Chang beer, and eat their street food. It's not a popular place for holiday makers, but still many can be spotted. Tables are shared, which encourages getting to know strangers. We dined with a couple from Sweden who were escaping the winter snow. It's a happy place, where families gather, and friends get together. Children clap, dance and cheer at the bravely enthusiastic on-stage singers.
The choice of food in Krabi is dangerously wonderful. So much of it is delicious and there were flavours entirely new to me. Seafood is really cheap and sold in mountainous portions. Curries claiming to be of simple ingredients confuse your taste buds with their unidentifiable seasoning. Food is zesty and pungent. Lots of lemongrass and coconut. Appetizing nibbles can be purchased on a stick, all resembling totally edible treats (unlike street food in China.) A favourite of mine was quail eggs wrapped in fish skin - lightly fried, served in a giant leaf with cucumber and soy sauce.
It was the Kings birthday while we were in Krabi. And that meant everyone had to wear yellow. (Of course!) It took us a while to realise this. We just thought it was a really weird coincidence. At the night market, candles were handed out for the compulsory celebration. It was a humid and windy night. People shielded the flickering flames with their hands, as they pretended to know the words to whatever it was we had to sing. A pretty impressive firework display followed.
It's illegal to drink alcohol on the Kings birthday. One of many unknown Thai laws. Another is that it's illegal to mail a Buddha internationally. Guillaume and I arrived at the post office ready to send family gifts for Christmas. (I know, a Buddha for Christmas is a splendid irony.) We'd wrapped the statues in paper. But inspection of package contents ensued and was undertaken by apparent jobsworths. "What's this?" the girl asked, pointing at a wrapped statue... Supposedly you can't transport Buddhas across borders either... It's offensive.
Thai people have other weird traditions too. They like to listen to the national anthem, a lot. At the night market, at 7pm, music would play over speakers and everyone would stand in silence for the duration of the song. Again, we didn't know what was going on initially and Guillaume got quite cross by the street food vendor who suddenly froze mid-serve. "Thank you... And can I have that please? .... Can I have this one please... This here.... Hello.... Hello? .... Are you alright?... Hello?"
Ao Nang beach is 20 minutes away by local bus. The local bus in Krabi is in fact an open-top jeep. About 12 small people can fit into it, and a further 4 or 5 can hang off the back. The price for westerners is $5 each way. Locals pay significantly less. The local elderly and children pay nothing. They're frequent, and easy to flag down. Ao Nang is much more touristic than Krabi town. It's prettier, it's right on the beach. All the businesses are geared toward tourists and there's a number of luxurious resorts. Too expensive for us. But we visited a few times.
My first sighting of Ao Nang Beach (which I later learned is not at all beautiful compared to other Thai beaches) confirmed that all the photos you see when you type 'Thai beaches' into Google, are genuine. There's something alluring about the Thai long boats which bob gently on the light waves of the crystal clear sea. It's hot, and exotic. Rope swings hang from trees by the soft beige sand. It's not crowded because the sands stretch on for miles. There's a quiet spot for everyone. The skies were such a brilliant blue. Tropical islands tower up out of the water. Some close enough to swim to. Or wade to.
Railay Beach, which is 10 minutes by long tail boat from Ao Nang, or 30 minutes from Krabi pier, was undoubtedly our favourite. Although it's technically on the mainland, there are no roads to Railay - which definitely makes it more romantic. The sands there are wide, brilliant white, and so clean. Rocks protrude from the beach creating natural shade and privacy. The water is waste deep almost instantly, and perfectly clear. Little fish swim around you and you can see their every detail from above the water. No need for snorkelling. The water is really warm, which actually isn't a good thing when it's such a hot day.
A short walk from Railay, among cheeky, playful monkeys and under drippy arches of monolithic rock, is Phra Nang beach - home to an enormous penis shrine. Offerings are left inside Princess Cave at the far end of the beach. It's said that the symbolic, phallic shaped statues are supposed to represent a Hindu God called Shiva. The story of the shrines origins are varied, but most say the gifts were first left by local fishermen and boatmen, to ensure safe and prosperous travel on the sea. (Makes sense. Want to survive out on the ocean? Give a big willy to a mythical character.) The wood carvings are particularly realistic and it's said that donating will boost your fertility. Hundreds of giant cocks are elaborately decorated, wrapped in colourful cloths and erected in the sandy ground below the caves dangling stalactites. It's quite a sight. Children are especially confused as they wander into the display... "Mummy, what's that?" I expect Mummy is just as baffled.
Apart from the bizarre cave, Phra Nang is unique for it's over hanging rock formations which reach out over the sea, casting shadows on the water for a cooler swim. The rocks change colour with the light and are often a deep orange or red. The sand is much narrower than on Railay and palm trees stretch out towards the gentle breaking waves. It's smaller, so it seems busier, but you still feel lucky - like you've found a hidden gem. There are no long tail boats in the water at Phra Nang, and it's easy to lose yourself floating on the surface, soaking up the sun. We swam there for hours.
Ever since I watched the movie The Beach, (apart from falling in love with Leonardo DiCaprio for the first time since Titanic,) I have wanted to visit where it was filmed. Everyone thinks it was shot on Phi Phi, which is sort of true. Phi Phi isn't just one island, it's several small islands clustered together far from any other islands. One of the Phi Phi islands is home to 'THE beach', aka Maya Bay, but is only accessible by a 45 minute long tail boat journey from Phi Phi (the biggest of the islands) and it's costly, even if you're a bargaining pro. I was slightly disappointed that we didn't make it to Maya Bay, but Phi Phi is still impressive.
Krabi to Phi Phi is a two hour high speed catamaran journey. I'm not sure it's entirely worth it. Don't get me wrong, it's stunning, it's a cool island with lots of cheap bars, food shacks, shops and entertainment. Small enough to walk around in a few hours. No cars of course. It feels safe, and fun, and on first sight the bay is truly magnificent. Breathtaking. The water is very shallow for a long way, and as such has heated up to near boiling point. It's fine for a dip once you get past knee deep, but that's a good five minute walk or more. We ploughed quickly through the scorching temperatures and enjoyed a swim around the long tail boats which are anchored way out in the bay. There's a lot of spiky coral, but you can see it.
There are hundreds of boats arriving on Phi Phi daily. It's chaotic as you step onto the dock, and there's confusion as you are herded in the wrong direction, to pay the islands 'entrance fee.' Leaving is painful. No one knows what's going on or which boat to take. The pier gets insanely crowded and there's no shade. After a day on the beach and exploring the place, people are sun burnt lobster-red, and exhausted.
On the way back, almost all 200 or so people on board the catamaran were sleeping. Passed out from the heat. A shower and a big bottle of water back at the hotel has never felt so good.
Phi Phi was one of many places in Thailand where lives were lost in the 2004 Boxing Day tsunami. Waves washed over the entire island. There is high ground on Phi Phi, two peaks at either end, and worn pathways lead up to prayer temples and observation points. Memorials exist at these points, and signs indicating evacuation routes are placed all over the island. Should it happen again in the future, with adequate warning, everyone could be safe. People died because there was no warning.
The hardest hit coastal area of the country by that tsunami was Khao Lak. A long stretch of flat beach, a few hours north and west of Krabi. The unofficial death toll exceeds 10,000. We travelled there by mini van for a four day stay.
Evidence of the tsunami still lingers a decade on from the disaster. Resorts were destroyed, buildings flattened and trees uprooted. Most of it's been cleared and there's plenty of new and renovated buildings along the sea front. Photographs of loved ones lost, are pinned to trees with ribbons, their names below. Lots of them were children.
The beach at Khao Lak is a peaceful paradise. It's hard to imagine something so terrifying and deadly could ever have occurred here. The ocean is calm. Rock pools are invitingly dotted along the shore line, and natural inlets have formed. Here too, the water is clear and abundant with sea life. Crabs the size of an adult fist congregate in their hundreds, on wet stones. Locals fish just a few feet from the sand. Sunsets are heavenly, painting the sky with warm colours, and a gentle breeze is welcomingly consistent. It's calm, it's quiet and you can walk for miles in either direction.
Beach shacks offer food, drink and massages. Woodland behind the beach appears as though it may once have been dense but is now sparsely populated with tall trees. Set back from the beach and up a slope is Khao Lak's main road. So many restaurants to chose from, souvenir shops by the dozen and plenty of bars promoting an exciting night life.
We spent an evening at the Happy Snapper. An atmospheric bar with velvet couches, expensive cocktails and an awesome local live band, rockin' the likes of ACDC and Guns N Roses.
We returned to the same hotel we left in Krabi. Krabi City View it's called. We'd found it by accident when staying at another hotel in the town that was totally crap. We negotiated a price. $20 for a room. It was brand new and luxurious. On booking.com the advertised nightly rate was $70. Suggests that the site is lying when they say "guaranteed lowest price." It's brand new and the staff are still figuring stuff out... When the owner's not working, her son runs reception. He was probably about 14, didn't speak a word of English, had bleach blonde hair and every inch of his face was covered in greasy, yellowy acne. We asked him one day if we could book an extra night. He just starred at us until we walked away.
Before we went to Thailand, people had said it was seedy, commercial and that "everybody goes there"... There's a reason people like Thailand. It's the beaches. They are perfect. I'd never seen a beach like Railay before, and I may never do again. For that reason, I'm so glad we went. Memories that will last a lifetime, and a tan that won't.