wish i had my camera with me.
Posted at 11 Sep 11:59 pm. 0 comments
Feel like going out and capturing something beautiful. Taking it home. Making it mine.
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Feel like going out and capturing something beautiful. Taking it home. Making it mine.
Nopparat Thara beach
Ao Nang was, in essence, very hot (did I mention that already?) and rather more expensive than I expected, but they weren’t kidding about the beaches of pristine white sand, picturesque limestone islands and clear blue-green seas.
The heat was probably even a plus given that no fever could survive the amount of sweating it induced; mine certainly didn’t. Beginning the afternoon we touched down in Krabi, Sexybum and I ran the gamut of flu symptoms: fever, chills, body ache, headache, dizziness, sore throat, coughing and sneezing. The worst of it wore off in two days, which was ample time to appreciate the care my amazing boyfriend was giving me while feeling very under the weather himself.
Things which were good to consume:
Alcohol in buckets. No, I still haven’t gotten over it.
Usually the list of edible local goodies is longer, eg. Hanoi where mouth-watering delights await around every corner, literally. This time, due to where we were we simply couldn’t find any local dives, we couldn’t get around that easily or we just weren’t up to looking. We did discover a no-no though: bottled alcohol made locally. Our last two nights there we celebrated with bottles of Thailand-made Bacardi Breezers and Espy cocktails. The following mornings we woke up with headaches and aching eyes. The local alcohol is seriously dodgy.

A brilliant warning. Also notable is the blue tsunami-exit-that-way sign above it. I’d have assumed “RUN AWAY FROM THE GREAT BIG WAVE!” was only common sense.
I normally micro-plan everything, but this time I didn’t even know where I’d be sleeping that night. Given that unpreparedness and our health we had a really good time, but I’d go back again because for those exact same reasons we didn’t cover as much as I’d have liked to. We slummed it a bit but for the most part rolled with the mainstream tourist crowd – it seemed inevitable. Everywhere we went the streets were swarmed with Caucasian tourists, which meant that local traders used to conversion rates about 40-60 times higher than their own currency were naturally going to hike their prices up.
Conversely, we saw some of these tourists haggle over already cheap items, or things that were non-negotiable – bus fare, for instance. Proving once again that common sense is a rare commodity all over the world.
I leave you with a photo of a fighter’s legs looking cool.
Muay Thai: Sport is important investment for body. Dividends include broken teeth, internal hemorrhaging and fractured ribs. Sign up today!
Our hotel’s charm tries to make up for the fact that it is rather inaccessible: about seven minutes’ walk from the main road, rather than the 2-3 minutes we were told to expect. Cowed by the heat, we turned back less than halfway and breakfasted in the hotel itself.
In a lovely surprise, the van we were expecting to catch on the main street came looking for us instead. It took us to Smart Cook Thai Cookery School, where for about RM100 we were to learn how to cook seven dishes each. Our class consisted of two Australian men, a Japanese couple from Tokyo, three British girls and a lot of story-telling.
We can cook Thai food! Isn’t it great? Let’s go to the mamak to celebrate.
We chopped, diced and pounded ingredients, which are surprisingly similar throughout dishes, listening to our instructor’s tales throughout. “The spiciness of your curry depends on how angry you are,” he told us enigmatically, and showed us what he meant by pounding his chillies with the flat of his knife – the more smashed they were, the hotter the resulting dish. We wrapped spring rolls, made curry paste and mixed salads. We fried, boiled and stir-fried everything. Oh, and if you thought working in front of an open stove on an already sweltering day isn’t a piece of cake – you’re right.
A word to the wise: If you’re planning to take a similar cookery course at this school, don’t bother with lunch. After we finished each dish we got to take it to the tables and sample our creations. By dish no. 2, you’re full. By dish no. 5, you don’t want dinner. By the time it’s over, they have to roll you out to the car because you’re too heavy to walk.
Walking on water.
On the way back we stopped at Nopparat Thara beach and enjoyed a slow(!) ramble over the sands while holding hands, pausing every now and then to take photos of the scenery. As we kissed, the sky flamed a brilliant vermillion above us in one of the most spectacular sunsets I’ve ever seen.
Sunset.
“Have we sufficiently satisfied a romantic cliche?” I asked, because keeping my mouth shut to avoid ruining a romantic moment is beyond me, and he pretended to hold up a list and said, “Check.”
A man after my own heart.
Playing with fire.
We didn’t envy that glass-maker, because by the time we came across him we were drenched with sweat. Fifteen minutes after stepping out of our bungalow we realized dehydration was a serious possibility. Ko Phi Phi in the daytime is seriously, ridiculously, hot.
Stalls deserted in the heat
The insane humidity took the fun out of shopping for knick-knacks – not that the stall-holders, spoiled by European holiday-goers with high exchange rates on their side, were much for bargaining. Slipping into one of the many air-conditioned massage parlors around, we had our muscles kneaded for a blissful hour before it was time to hop back into the ferry for the mainland.
Boats at the jetty
Back in Ao Nang we splurged – yes, splurged – on Ben’s House, a charming little hotel tucked away in a corner off the main street which features beautiful, newly furnished RM70 rooms. But hot, sticky, tired and irritable as we were, who was looking? More attractive to us was the pool it shared with the hotel next door, a lovely triumph of creativity in the limited space available, which featured waterfalls and salted water. From its infinity edge, refreshed and cool, we watched the sun paint the sky orange and pink as it sank gracefully past the horizon.
We left our accommodation at the rather misnamed P.K. Mansion (RM50 for a basic bedroom and spacious, clean bathroom) just in time to catch a small parade complete with drag queens in resplendent costumes. What was the occasion? A staff party. It was a taste of things to come in a place where it’s not enough that you’re having fun: you’re morally obligated to make sure everyone joins in on your fun too.
The tuk-tuk arrived soon after, loaded us with our backpacks, and we were off. The fresh sea breeze played havoc with our hair. To our left golden shafts of morning sunlight illuminated the limestone mountains and the vast blue expanse of the sea, dotted with quaint wooden long-tail boats. To our right, in sharp contrast, were gleaming storefronts which housed the icons of the civilized world. A Haagen-Dazs. A McDonalds. And a Starbucks, for crying out loud.
Ao Nang, you sellout.
Railay Beach
The ferry from Ao Nang costs under RM100 per person for a return trip and stops by Railay before landing you at Phi Phi Island. Going by the photo above it may be hard to imagine holding out for something better, but we did. No regrets.
Ko Phi Phi is unlike any island I’ve seen. The entire island is so densely covered with small stalls and restaurants and mini-resorts, there is no road big enough to fit a car. The main route twists and turns and looks more like a series of well-maintained back alleys, branching off helter-skelter to dead ends. Thatch-roofed shacks slouch against brick-and-tile affairs, bamboo-adorned storefronts contrast sharply with gleaming white or brown paint; the whole affair, despite being the physical manifestation of the term ‘tourist trap’, has in its spontaneous haphazardness a certain charm.
Phi Phi Casita
After settling in at P.P. Casita, a community of charming little bungalows connected by wooden walkways, we headed for lunch and then – what else does one do on an island? – the beach.
Stripping down to our swim things, we frolicked in the pleasantly warm waters before retiring to our deck chairs. Beneath a large blue umbrella which shielded us from the worst of the sun, we sipped watermelon shakes and coconut coolers as we buried our toes in the fine white sand. Before us the calm blue-green sea stretched out to the horizon, its surface dotted with craggy limestone islands. Husky Latin singers crooned in the background.
Bliss? Oh, yes.
Coconut Cooler Recipe:
1 young coconut
Triple Sec
Bacardi
Malibu
Pineapple juice
—
- Pour the coconut water into a blender. Scoop out the flesh and add it in.
- Mix in the alcohol. Add ice.
- Blend.
- Shake the resulting sludge of icy deliciousness back into the coconut husk.
- Decorate with an orchid, pop in a straw, and experience heaven on earth.
Ko Phi Phi is a bit of a single girl’s paradise, by the way. Everywhere else in the world women habitually put on make up, dress up, primp and pose; here the ladies were obviously a lot more laid back and it was the men who strutted around nearly naked, their tanned and toned muscles gleaming, hair artfully tousled, sleek sunglasses in place.
Not that I was looking.

Say it with me: awww.
When dusk fell we wandered out in search of dinner and entertainment, which came in the form of pool tables and live Muay Thai matches in a rowdy, double-storey bar. The other options were the annual foam party (I can make one in my bathtub) and any one of the many raucous bars (which KL has no shortage of), but I don’t often get to see sweaty men doing their level best to kick each other’s faces in, live.
No, seriously.
Oh, balls.
When we ordered drinks our potent cocktails came in honest-to-god buckets, albeit small ones, with three straws, because one clearly would feel a little overwhelmed on its own. There was such a blatant lack of finesse in the presentation; the honesty tickled me pink. You’re here to get drunk. Come, let us help you.
Who could resist such an offer?
Alcohol. In buckets.
Photography hooks people with its deceptive simplicity. What could be easier than point and click?
And yet the quest for the perfect picture leads you into a land of ridiculously expensive mechanisms, impenetrable terminology and infuriating graphic-manipulation software. The last is ironic given that you likely became a photographer because you were determined to express your love of beauty despite your inability to create pretty pictures with physical mediums. (We’ll save the “But is Photoshop real photography?” debate for another day.)