Krabi is both a town and a province, but rarely is any specific distinction required. When one speaks of Krabi, you usually envision a coastline of white sand beaches flanked by dramatic limestone cliffs, all within a short hop of the eponymous town. Accommodation was pricier along the beach (funny how that happens), so we opted to station ourselves in town.
The town itself is quite quaint. Cheerful townsfolk hustle and bustle about, and a healthy dose of bars and restaurants cater to the backpacker community. Songthaews ply the streets offering fast and convenient transportation to the surrounding areas. We caught one early in the afternoon to Ao Nang, a nearby beach. Our fellow passengers were North Americans; cocky, confident and more enamored by their own presence than that of those whom they were talking to.
The beach was well-developed. Taking a page from the European book of beach building, a long esplanade ran the length of the shoreline, dividing the sand from the shops and restaurants. Surf shops, Irish pubs and tattoo parlours mingled with Starbucks, McDonald's and Subway. The crowd, a mixture of the young and thin and the old and bulbous. A dynamic young Thai accosted an ungainly white man wearing a banana hammock, vying for some of his disproportionately large wealth. We weren't planning on staying. Instead we caught a boat to the isolated peninsula of Raylay.
The limestone cliffs jut out of the Krabi landscape, at times forming impassable barriers. In this instance, a rather large formation separated the peninsula of Raylay from the rest of the mainland, thus the need for a boat. We sailed along cliffsides until they eventually broke from the coast revealing a stretch of beach sheltered amongst their looming crags. This beach was also quite developed, but much less frenetic, so it made an excellent choice.
Adam set off in search of a place to rock climb, while I plopped myself down on the beach in an attempt to give my ghostly carcass some colour. Time went by. Boats came and went, collecting and distributing tourists. Tiny sand crabs flitted in and out of holes. I took a swim. After about an hour of this, I got a little restless. Living a year in a stimulating environment like Seoul can whittle away one's attention span, so I sought out a new activity to pursue.
Kayaking seemed to call to me, so I jacketed up and set put to see some more of the rugged coastline. After about 5 minutes of paddling against the current, it became clear how physically demanding kayaking could be. My supple girl arms began to throb, but I pressed onwards. I was rewarded with two towering islands rising from the sea; a narrow corridor of shallow water separating them, as if a guillotine had sliced it, specifically for me to pass through. I floated in between for a bit, then it was time to head back.
I walked the neck of the peninsula over to the other coast and bumped into Adam who was preparing for his last climb of the day. The sheer cliff overlooked an emerging tidal flat, so I seized a few shots. The seas were getting rough and the boats were making their last runs, so we headed back. In the songthaew, we met a Japanese vacationer named Yasuhiro who accompanied us to dinner at the night market. He was classic Japanese. Very polite, a little awkward, no eye contact. I called it in early later that evening.
The next day was a very special day. It was the last day of Songkran, Thai new year, and to celebrate, the whole town filled up buckets and water pistols and took to the streets dousing literally everyone they saw. It didn't matter if they were drunken backpackers or Thai businessmen in tweed jackets, they all participated and they all got soaked. I was lucky to squeeze in breakfast before the first deluge. People would set up huge barrels of water by the road and pummel oncoming traffic. Flatbed trucks filled with young Thais brandishing water guns prowled the streets doing drive-bys. The real hardcore kids used ice water, talcum powder and even paint. It was pandemonium. Loud music blared from every caravan and soak station. I joined in on the fun. Adam was already well embedded. A few things got broken in the fray. My sunglasses, and worst of all, my camera. There was so much damn water everywhere.
Growing tired of the corner we stationed ourselves at, I decided to rent a motorbike and roam the streets observing the festivities. It got even wilder as I drove along. Narrow streets became a gauntlet of water, talcum powder and paint. Driving behind a truck full of kids was just asking for a soaking.
After my (not so) dry run of the town, I swung back and picked up Adam so we could administer our own drive-bys. We got decimated. At one point, a girl poured red paint all over my sunglasses. I made a point to stop at the next soak station a few meters ahead so they could wash it off, but it was even worse there. A dude poured ice-cold water directly on my forehead eliciting the most punishing brain freeze I've ever had. Realizing that we were just getting our asses handed to us, I opted to return the bike. By then it was about 5 and the constant bedlam around us was starting to grow tiresome. We retreated to the inner sanctum of a bar until the sun went down and people started clearing the streets. Soon it became safe to don dry clothes again.
That night, over drinks, someone spoke of this local club that was always packed and completely free to get into. My desire to know more eventually led to us hopping into a car full of strangers bound for the fabled "Room 69". The driver was a Thai girl named Wee Wee. Things were starting to look sketchy. Thankfully the place was a pretty on-the-level establishment and yes, it was packed and completely free. Up front, a Thai DJ played a mix of Thai and English popular songs and the crowd ate it up. He pranced about the stage like a rock star. As I made my way through the swell of people, it became immediately apparent that we were the only foreigners there. I guess Lonely Planet hasn't picked up on it yet. A few girls shot me smiles and a few guys shot me scowls. Adam left early while I got roped into a table of dudes who poured me free drinks for the remainder of the night. I suspected that they were using me to pick up girls. Like, come on guys, I can't even use me to pick up girls. Needless to say it didn't work, and their generosity went to waste.
The house lights came on and I staggered out into the streets, realizing that I had no idea where the hell I was. Looking like the saddest sight in the world. I ambled in the direction I suspected the town was until one of the bar staff passing by offered me a life back into town. "Back into town? I thought. Jesus that would have been one hell of an amble home. He dropped me off at the main town intersection and wished me good morrow. It still took a white before I got my bearings and found my way back to the hotel. It was 5am. Of all the places for me to pull the first all-nighter of the trip: Krabi Town.
The next morning my mouth was so damn dry that I would have welcomed the jackass with the ice water if he happened to bound into the hotel room at that moment. It was time to eat and leave. Thankfully we were only going to Phuket, a mere four hour drive away. Krabi surprised me in the end. It was from a mere suggestion that we decided to stop there, and I left soaking wet, sore and hungover with a broken camera. Still had an amazing time. Hey all potential backpackers: go to Krabi.
Limestone cliffs overlooking Raylay Beach.
Adam's final ascent of the day.
Adam at the height of his climb (if you can spot him). 
Why riding a motorcycle is a bad idea during Songkran.
These guys are loving it.
This may or may not have been how my camera got broken.
Good work Adam.
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