The first place we checked into was dreadful...we paid first then saw the room (Lesson #3 Learned: see the room before you pay), then moved to what we thought was the "budget hotel" listed in the guidebook. It wasn't, but the price was right, included breakfast, and the place was super clean. After our second roti in Thailand (soooo delicious) and some suspicious and equally tasty "chicken" on a stick, we were off to la-la land to rest up for our big trip in the morning.
We took a longtail boat to Railay West Beach. It was quite a beautiful ride. Paradise truly did await us.
So we beached all day on Railay West and then retired at night to Ton Sai beach, an apparently more upbeat, party-oriented place with cheaper accommodation. Cheap? Who cares. Check out this view from our private balcony on our bungalow. Does it GET any better than this? Well it does...when monkeys land on your tin roof, but that happens later...much later.
This is the tree where we saw our first (and definitely not last) monkey. Leanne was shocked: it looked like a cartoon version of itself with dark rims around its eyes. I've never seen wild monkeys before...this place was remarkable.
The only part I didn't like about Ton Sai was the self-righteous rock climbers who talked about nothing more than "the climb". I rolled my eyes harder on this beach than I had in the whole time I've been in Korea, in all honesty. In fact, when we were on our way to plan the albeit-a- little-lame-sounding-but-actually-wicked-awesome boat trip, the waitress at the bakery we really liked (with best quiche we've both EVER had...oh, but no one had any idea how to make it...again, eye roll) told us to report back to her how it was because she, "doesn't do that sh*t". Well excuuuuuse me, missy. I guess the only thing you consider worthwhile is scaling rocks all day long and serving overpriced coffee to other wankers? jeesh.
This was that bakery. Hilarious that a cat and a rooster are both picking at the crumbs left by the Self-Righteous. Oh, and I don't like roosters that much either. They really do have beady eyes that stared right into my soul. One told me subconsciously that it could peck apart my body with its crooked beak...or at least touch me with its avian flu feathers. It was revolting. So we add roosters to the list of animals that scare the living daylights out of me.
Sunsets on Ton Sai beach were amazing. Here's a man just loving life...I think he was a permanent resident there ;)
And the sunset began...the picture didn't really capture the intense orange colour of the sun, but you can kind of get the impression...
...more beauty...
The day after our first night, when we were far too well-acquainted with the Long Island Iced Tea, Leanne was feeling a bit under the weather. After a few hours in the cove that held heat with more steadfast vigor than hell, she was just about ready to die, when this lovely fruit platter (that you can't see due to her slouched body hovering over it in desperation) was delivered to her. She devoured it in such a way, I became certain that she had been possessed by Asian body snatchers (such was her style of eating). At long last, she came out of her hangover coma, and resumed life as normal.
Sitting in our favourite restaurant on Ton Sai, this was the bar, aka, the Procurers of the Long Island Iced Teas that made such a profound impact on my travel companion.
Just off to the side of our favourite Ton Sai restaurant, the wicked cliff that hung over the beach. This is where the novices would "practice" before hitting the "real cliffs". Oh dear. Needless to say, Leanne and I did not partake. Hey, lying on the beach is a lot of work.
Here is Ton Sai beach, from the right side...
...centre...
...and left.
Alright, I suppose this is a good a time as any to tell the story about the monkey on the roof. On our last night on Ton Sai, we were welcomed to our room by a fairly slow-moving (for a multi-legged creature) bright orange multi-legged creature. It ducked behind the mirror about two feet from my head before I could wrangle my shoe off to squash it. After much banging about, both of us holding a shoe to kill it, the dreaded beast would not come out of its hiding place. Since we knew that these things favoured dark to light, we kept the light a-burning, and would, all night if we had to. We both fell asleep with the light blazing over our heads. Soon after (or much later, who knows, who cares), we were abruptly awakened by the indisputable sound of a monkey landing, scrambling, then running across our roof. How do we know? We just do.
Imagine our horror: the doors to the room were more than likely locked, but the screen between us and the outside was thin; thin enough to be devoured by a hungry, crazed primate. What should we do? We banged on the doors of our thin hut, praying that the monkey would prove to be more scared of us rather than territorial and confident. After a few more moments of frantic movement, it seemed to go away.
Our racing hearts slowed eventually, and we even turned the light off, scared more now of the potentially virus-carrying opposably-thumbed creature than the creepy crawly thing over our heads. Just as we got over the giggles associated with the aversion from a near death experience and were drifting back into some semblance of sleep, the dreaded creature RETURNED. I have never been so freaked out in my life. Leanne catapulted herself onto my bed, hers being critically too close to the window, and we clung to each other in a vain attempt to stave off the wild beast. Alas, as soon as he came, he was gone again, the room washed with an eerie silence, save the other random jungle noises that were completely non-threatening before, but now carried with them the promise of certain death. Morning could not come soon enough.
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