Day 311 - Ko Chang

The last unspoilt corner of Thailand???



Well, that's a statement I'm not actually qualified to make. Since I've only been here 3 days. But hey, on Eves' friend's advice, this island, Ko Chang, is the very last beautiful, isolated, idyllic place left off the coast of the thai mainland. So we're off. The lonley planet (urgh!) threatens this place with a scathing review of its effluent-filled waters and lack of electricity. That's not true. The water's not *crystal* and the electricity doesn't stay on all night, but I loved Ko Chang.



So, after booking on a 10hour night bus and arriving 21hours later in Ko Chang. Now, for those who know Thailand, don't confuse yourself with the 'well-known' Ko Chang in the Gulf of Thailand. No. This is Ko Chang, Andaman Coast island and barely known by anyone except its own locals and handful of tourists. After a hour waiting for it to arrive, we find ourselves on a tiny boat, carrying 10 backpackers and 10 locals, and about 10 tonnes of food/drink/ice for the 10 hotels on the island. We have no idea where to go (we're like this - unprepared for EVERYTHING), so we get off the boat at the same place as some german backpackers. And its amazing.



Wooden shack bungalows litter the rugged coastline, with waters lapping the bottom of the hut stilts and rushing over the rocks gently. People sit on their little wooden balconies staring out to the sea, which is warm and inviting and has the tinies limestone outcrops dotted on the horizon. We jump off onto a small pier and check into a small bungalow with just 2 double beds - enough for the 4 of us on a budget.



And that's pretty much all there is to say about Ko Chang. For the next 48 hours until the same little boat picked us up, we did nothing but relax. We played cards until the lights went out at 11pm. We watched DVDs on Tom's laptop. We ate Pad Thai and Chicken with Cashew Nuts until we were sick of the spices. We dived in the warm and deep high-tide waters and ate breakfast on a table half-submerged in the gentle lapping of the tide.





My favourite moment was going for a wander along the deserted shores to the local convenience store (a shack with 3 shelves of bathroom products and some crisp packets with just 6 crisps in them). It was so sparce in there I felt obliged to buy a bar of soap out of pity for the shop owner. And on my return journey home along the beach, I was befriended this beautiful little dog (who I named Mustafa) who decided to follow me home. Something I was against in the slightest. For the first 10 minutes. A little later, it got annoying. Then some other dogs started on Mustafa, who couldn't defend himself and was getting bitten, but stayed at my side as I kicked back the other dogs. Eventually I had to pick him up, carry him past the howling hounds, and after dropping him near my hostel, he leapt and bound around like he was happy to have found a new home. He spent the next night and day sleeping in our cabin and pissing Eve off by pissing on the floor (wooden slat floorboards, soaked stright through).



This island isn't 'stunning'. Its not like some of the islands I've been to in Brazil, or Australia or even like Vietnam. Its no where near the quality so many peolpe would expect from an island paradise. The colours are muted (at times). The water is kinda murky and, depending on the tide, filthy. And there's jellyfish. Its flawed. BUT, it does the trick. Better than that. Its magical. It has this hypnotic appeal. We sat and watched a sunset. For hours. Transfixed. I don't care for sunsets, but this one was different. Not because of the rich colours. Not because of the breaking cloud shaping the sunset like a sculpter's wheel. No. It was the silence. It was the meditative peace of this island that drove us onto our balconies, legs dangling towards the ground and minds empty of distraction. It definately got something special going on here. Maybe not special enough to turn it into the next 'Ko Pha Ngan', but then, perhaps that whole point. I don't know.



Anyway, 2 days of blissful relaxation later, and a whole night of alcohol abuse at the bar talking to stoned germans, 7-times-visited brits and a weird belgian guy who ranted on incessantly about german techno parties, we decided to pack up and move on. Its getting more tiring everytime I have to repack my bags these days, but its a small price to pay for the pleasure of travelling. And as the 11am boat comes into dock at the end of some slippery rocks only visible at low tide, we're all clambering over them (with our backpacks, handbags and hangovers), attempting to get from the beach to the boat in flip-flops and with our pride in tact. Eve lost the fight, stacking it onto her arse almost at the final hurdle, but before long we were on the boat, heading back to the mainland, and onwards towards Kratie - launchpad to the revered Ko Phi Phi.