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A Barefoot Embrace of Life on Koh Lanta

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Vintage Ford pickup trucks fueled by jerry cans of gasoline, stuffed in the trunk with the odd chicken and child are lining up on the one paved street, rattling in front of tin roof shacks selling cigarettes, fishing line and warm cans of Coke. Eager but polite drivers in flip flops suck on Marlboro cigarettes and pass you earnest smiles, until they reel in a passenger. The Broke Backpacker is supported by you. I find trustworthy eyes in a man with twisted jeans and a toothy smile, and perch myself on sacks of rice in his trunk, as he drives down dirt trails, listening to K-Pop on the Blaupunkt car stereo system. The truck pulls down a dusty sidepath, past one nearly empty karaoke bar, and another premises promising happy smokes and happier times. Matt, the keeper of the Chill Out House, is a shock of beach bleached hair, and musical Somerset accent. First there was Diana, the nomadic yoga teacher is there really any other type? Erik, the tall and broad Swedish bartender is brooding and pensive, but pours a mean Mai Tai, and is excellent company for card-games and philosophical musings under starshine and lamplight. Days would start like this: a climb down bamboo ladders from our bedroom cabins at breakfast, brushing teeth tiredly in a queue at the water fountain, before nursing ground coffee from ceramic mugs and stretching on the patio. Mornings would seem long and were preserved for activity. Fortunately, I make it to the next beach, a deserted cove, only housing an artfully placed splintered log, presumably for sitting, contemplating and meditating. On days that I decide not to slice my skin open, there are sunrise swims and breathing workshops, followed by post-lunch naps in cord hammocks under canvas shade, sleeping off elbow sized avocado and tropical slaw wraps from the market stall, run by a nimble-fingered old man called Mr Wu who also sells weed. After dodging the midday sun, we do nothing but simply sit. I sit, too sedated to brush off the sand collecting on my legs, half watching British and German backpackers toss a frisbee, until the Sunset shows up to sing its song. As Matt assured us daily — the sunsets here really are to be gazed at. Soft, impressionist strokes of candy floss pink, sliding along unbroken slices of burnt tangerine. Fiery red chilli sizzles out from smooth peanut sauce slathered on long, flat rice noodles with sesame fried tofu and holy basil. Walking along the beach after sunset, the serene lapping of star-lit waves is accompanied by the background cosmic funk and disco gently wafting outwards from boomboxes stacked up in small, straw-covered beach bars. Glow in the dark paint and sand-covered floors beckon tiny clusters of midnight movers and shakers. We wait, hearts racing in anticipation of psychedelic visions, but we settle for tiny giggles, and observations about the crimson rings encircling the cratered moon, or magical trails left behind by possibly imagined shooting stars. Patrick bares his bum and pitter patters out into the balmy waters, entertaining himself and us with backflips and handstands in the shallow water, as we lay supine, heads resting on each others chests. As we traipse back to sleeping quarters, out on the sideroad, young Thai men switch from playing bartenders to rockstars or is it vice versa at the lonely karaoke spot, drumming marijuana infused beats on makeshift kits and strumming island guitar strings over covers of Nirvana and Kings of Leon. Thanks for publishing this Will — you inspired me to go out there on my solo adventures. Hope to see you sometime on the road… P. Your email address will not be published. Save my name, email, and website in this browser for the next time I comment. Notify me of followup comments via e-mail. Skip to content. See Our Editorial Process. Pritham Pummy Bhatia. Pritham Pummy Bhatia's fondest travel memories include childhood trips to Kenya and Masai Mara, where his mother was born. After a career as a singer and songwriter in London, his solo trips across Central America and Asia inspired him to document his journeys online through words and images, and on his blog A Man On The Move. When he is not travelling, Pritham can be found songwriting and working on fiction, as well as tinkering with an original screenplay. Share or save this post Pinterest. Stay connected everywhere. Enjoy internet connection on every adventure and forget about expensive roaming bills. Support The Broke Backpacker. Booking through our links helps me and my team produce FREE content for you :. Leave a Reply Cancel reply Your email address will not be published.

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