In our trip planning we had planned our visit to Koh Lanta to serve as a “vacation from our vacation” and we nailed it. We had been going pretty much non-stop since we arrived ten days earlier and although we had spent a few days on the beach in Ao Nang and Railay, the idea of a sleepy island town where we could walk out our hotel room door onto the warm sand and have the lazy waves of the Indian Ocean lapping at our ankles a few steps later sounded quite appealing at this point.

But first we had to get there.

Scott had proven to be a whiz at sorting out the logistics of getting from point A to point B in Thailand so far, so I gladly let him take the reins again on getting us to the island. I naively thought it would be as simple as summoning a Grab or Bolt and getting picked up and dropped off. The 100 km span between the two somewhat secluded areas meant that this wasn’t going to be a reliable option and we would need a different plan. Over the last few days in Ao Nang he had been investigating various options at travel kiosks and comparing prices and details. He had decided that our best option would be to take a van which would then take us to the ferry onto the island and would drop us off at the hotel. This sounded doable and pleasant¹ so we bought our van tickets and were told that our van would pick us up at 9 the next morning.

We unfortunately didn’t have time for breakfast at Nim’s but I had a backup plan in mind. There was a small food court near our hotel that, amongst other offerings, had a roti stand. Roti is a thin crepe-like pan-fried pancake with Muslim origins that is simultaneously chewy and crisp, and just like crepes, can be made savory or sweet² depending on the toppings. I headed over to get us some while Scott hung at the hotel finishing up packing. I stepped up to the roti stand and told the woman who was dutifully oiling some roti dough with her bare hands on the counter what I would like (one chicken curry roti and one banana and nutella roti please) and without missing a beat she reached out to take my money, made change from her pocket, handed it back to me, and went right back to kneading the dough. I decided to suspend my traditional and stuffy American principles on food handling safety and go with the flow, asked a silent prayer to not get Bangkok-belly from this transaction, and happily accepted our breakfast in carryout containers a few minutes later. And it was delicious. Bonus points, we didn’t get GI upset. When in Thailand, and all that.

Roti eaten, we sat on the front porch of the hotel and waited for the van. It eventually arrived to collect us. We handed our luggage to the driver who stuffed it into the only available space in the very back and climbed inside, taking the two last available seats. Off we went! And then we stopped for more people. We were not sure who’s lap the bearded thawb-clad Imam would be sitting on until the driver deployed a hidden jump seat up front and shoehorned him into it.

This driver did not disappoint and threw the hammer down and raced his cargo as quickly as possible to the next stop which was a surprise to us. We were confused when we reached a little depot of sorts and were asked to get out of the van and go into the office to be sorted and labeled- it turns out this was some sort of transportation hub and all of us would get put onto the correct van to take us to our intended destinations. Our stickers dutifully stuck to our shirts, we were told to be back in 20 minutes to catch the next van. We wandered around for a few minutes, found a pay potty and hung out as instructed.

When the time was up we reconvened and waited for further instruction. We were then shown to another van and verified that our luggage was loaded into it as well. On this van we met another American- a 70 something year old traveller from Chicago. She had retired from O’Hare and was now seeing the world. She had been in Southeast Asia for several months and still had a few weeks to go, wisely not planning to return to the Midwest until the weather was warmer. We shared travel tales and tips and bravely endured the our new driver’s Mario Kart antics as we whipped and weaved through traffic, seemingly oblivious and immune to any traffic rules and laws.

And then it got very hot inside the taxi van. I had noticed earlier that when the a/c was turned on, a few moments later there was an alarming warning beep that the vehicle made and then the driver would turn the a/c off. This went on for a few cycles until he stopped turning the a/c all together. The wild driving hadn’t let up and a few turns later the sole child in the van puked. The Dutch father politely asked the driver to be less insane with his van driving as the family tried to mop the vomit up. Although I felt bad for the kid and the family having to deal with a carsick child on the Thai Taxi version of Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, I also felt sorry for myself and at this moment could not handle smelling someone’s vomit in this hot enclosed space and I lunged for my bag and frantically searched through it to find a mask. (Scott was smart and had donned his prior to getting inside.)

We somehow arrived alive to the ferry terminal just in the nick of time and the driver drove us onto the vessel which was basically an industrial pontoon boat that belched black smoke from its huge smokestacks. We were thankful to be able to get out of the van and get some fresh air even if it meant inhaling diesel particulates. We chugged across the small strait and soon reached the island of Koh Lanta. We reluctantly loaded ourselves back into the van and off we went. Thankfully our hotel was on the north end of the island and we were the first people to be dropped off. We burst out of the van, grabbed our bags and headed onto the grounds of the Klongdao Sunset Village in search of the reception area.

We received a warm welcome as well as an orchid adorned welcome drink as we checked in and a bellhop came to take our bags and show us to our room, and we were excited to see that our room was just a few steps away from the beach. The hotel’s footprint was compact but contained everything we would need for the next few days- a convenience store with a small grocery and liquor section, beach shop, massage hut, and a full and open-air restaurant and bar. The best part was that the restaurant’s seating was directly on the sand of the beach under some shade trees. I couldn’t wait to check it out and immediately headed there as soon as we had checked out our room and unpacked. Scott was tired and opted to nap so I ate by myself looking out over the tranquil Andaman Sea and admired and befriended the stray dogs that were enjoying the shade and hoping for scraps from diners (I of course obliged).

After my lunch I ventured out onto the beach and picked a direction to walk. I was delighted to see that Koh Lanta was as promised; a super quiet beach town, a welcome respite from the raucous and rowdy Ao Nang; a Thai Edisto Island of sorts, free from the hustle and bustle and garish neon lights, and the shore was lined with villas and hotels just like ours- all low slung and sleepy but each containing their own shoreside restaurants so we would have all sorts of options for dining over the next few days. I waded into the warm water for a bit and was thrilled to discover hermit crabs swimming and scurrying around in the water. I would catch them and watch them for a few moments as they threatened me with their tiny but furious little pincer claw before releasing them back into the water. None of our research had told us that Koh Lanta was the Hermit Crab Kingdom³ but I was here for it!

I wandered back to our hotel room and joined Scott for a little nap. When we were sufficiently rested we decided to stroll into the small town (although “town” is a generous description for what it was) to hit up the ATM and see what sort of shops they had. They had the typical beach shops that you would find at any seaside resort area plus a dive shop, dispensary, and travel agency. We got our cash, checked out some of the stores and then mosied back to our hotel.

By then it was nearly dinner time, so after relaxing for a few minutes in our room (and taking note of the mosquitos that seemed to be pouring into the room from underneath our door) we headed to the hotel’s beachfront restaurant to check out the BBQ and fire show that their advertisement had promised. The BBQ consisted of a small salad bar and your choice of chicken, beef, pork, or fish, and veggies that they then grilled for you. I was an old pro at dining in Thailand at this point and didn’t bat an eye at the flies landing on the various meat choices and cheerfully pointed to what I wanted.

We grabbed seats in the sand just 50 yards from the water’s edge and ordered drinks. It was happy hour so I took advantage and got some fruity concoction, and as always, it came sporting a pretty orchid. What it did not seem to be sporting however, was any sort of liquor. I ordered another in the name of research and was pretty sure that my hypothesis was correct. (No wonder their happy hour prices were so good.) So I turned to the tried and true Chang beer, which hit the spot. Our dinner came out to us just as the sun was setting and we ate as the sun dipped lower and lower until it was out of sight, coloring the sky with some pretty pastels on its way down. With the sun gone for the day, it was time for the fire show. While not as over the top as the one we had witnessed in Ao Nang, it was nonetheless impressive, suitably entertaining, and the pungent and alluring smell of lighter fluid lent a certain, but not unpleasant, je nais c’est quois to our BBQ dinner.

Sufficiently BBQ’d we decided it was time for a walk along the beach. We enjoyed a stroll along the hard packed sand of the water’s edge with the waterfront hotels and restaurants as a backdrop, casting light our way. We made it back to our room, showered, and went to war with the mosquitos, who apparently found our room just as hospitable as we did and who hoped to have us for their very own BBQ dinner.