Krabi, Thailand
We wake about 6 a.m. just before the sun clears the horizon, and the sky begins to brighten.
We keep our silk drapes open so we can climb out of bed and sit on the deck when dawn starts to break.
The sun bursts through around 6:30 and we can see the longboats cut across the shimmering reflection in the sea.
Our room is nice and cool, thanks to the air conditioner, and we sleep under a tent of white mesh tulle to keep mosquitos at bay. We take malaria medicine just in case.
On the deck it’s warming up for the day–maybe 80-degrees Fahrenheit–and humid.
Feels like rain with the heavy air but not a rain cloud in sight.
We have an electric kettle we fill with bottled water and I have my Lipton yellow tea with some sugar while Honey drinks a half-cup full of instant Nescafé with powdered creamer and sugar substitute.
We sit and watch the sun and the boats, and I shoot photos.
Sometime after 7 a.m. we walk down the pathway to the restaurant: a large outdoor area with a thatched roof: most of the tables are under the roof and many are arranged outside, where we have a view of the huge stone outcroppings in all the tourist pictures of Krabi.
We look for a table outside–away from the smokers–while you cannot smoke in enclosed areas in Bangkok, here in Krabi there are many smokers in the outdoor eating areas.
I wear my silver lung necklace to ward off the bad spirits and hope that the breeze will carry away the smoke.
We find American-style coffee–nearly strong enough for Portlanders–and heaps of papaya, dragon fruit, melon, bananas and pineapple.
There’s yogurt and candied dried fruit and–for the Europeans–edges of aged cheese and sliced meats.
There are also cold vegetables including cucumbers, hunks of yellow corn, sliced bell peppers, hot peppers, and sliced tomatoes.
Then I spy three covered silver trays with warm hotdogs and pork and mixed vegetables and tomatoes.
In the corner a chef prepares eggs any style and I decide on a cheese omelette today instead of the pile of French toast and pancakes.
In the corner is a toaster and slabs of bread and homemade baby croissants with choices of butter and honey and jam.
After breakfast we head off for the beach–a 30-minute walk to limestone structures and caves, and a brilliant emerald sea.
Many tourists with cigarettes and tattoos sun on the beach and we find a shaded spot for our bag and towels and swim several hundred meters to a large rock outcrop (where we can stand rather than tread) and spy three blue-grey herons, each about the size of a cat.
Their bills and feet are bright yellow.
The water is warm and refreshing and salty, and, after lazing about, we take our sandy feet and eat a Thai lunch before trekking back to our cool hotel.
I pick up some bleached white shells and a few pieces of white coral.
We shower and read a little.
I write some postcards and we sit by the beautiful sleek swimming pool and drink water and mango juice.
At about 5:40 p.m. we shower again and head for dinner at our hotel restaurant.
About four workers wait on us–the restaurant isn’t very popular for the guests (we think its because there’s only wine and nothing else alcoholic) and we enjoy the attention and the food: seafood soup for me and chicken larb for Honey.
I find an orange beetle on the orange gingham table cloth and we watch it cleanse its antenna and pose for photos.
16 March 2017
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Cynthia (Ištá Tȟó Tȟó) Coleman Emery's Blog 