We had heard good things about Ko Lanta, and headed out by ferry to the island after two days in Ao Nang. This involved sitting on the deck of the boat for 2 hours, at the end of which I emerged, lobster-like, into the din of taxi touts. We arrived at our first place, a pretty upscale place (by backpacker standards) right on the beach. The place had been rebuilt following the tsunami last year (out of pocket: they apparently saw no money from the aid) and only reopened three months ago. We got a nice bungalow amidst the palms.

I attempted snorkelling, but my ridiculous glasses proved too big for the mask, so on top of my morbid inability to swim, I was blind too. I saw several dark forms moving through the water that Nazma later explained were fish; I have to take her assessment on faith. Apparently there were topless girls about, which I also missed. Nazma was very happy to tell me all this, in the safety of my blindness. Utterly dejected, I spent the next two days reading on the beach while Nazma splashed around. And in case you were wondering, no more topless girls availed themselves once my sight was restored: a final cosmic kick-in-the-crotch.

In our walks along the beach we discovered what the travel agents in Ao Nang had failed to mention: all the places were beachfront. We found a place that cost a third what we were paying, and had more character, and so we moved there for the rest of our stay. This place had been similarly rebuilt following the tsunami, and was staffed by some cool tattooed dudes who liberally exercised their dj booth nightly. We also had our choice of hammocks. Here’s the one on our porch.

And here’s the other one, by the beach. I spent an obscene amount of time here.

(The photo at the top was a fire-dancer we chanced upon one night on the beach. If buskers in Vancouver put in this much effort, I’d empty my wallet (er, paper/money-clip) every time I saw one.)