As our holiday on Koh Lanta continued and we explored a little more of the island over the coming days, we came across a large bar/restaurant with tables here and there, hammocks hanging, and many secret cubby holes. We were the only guests, and as we perused the menu at the entrance, trying to work out if there was anything vegan, the owner came over to assist. After being reassured that there were vegan options and settling into seats, Miki asked the owner if they held cooking courses at the restaurant. She responded with a no, but then invited us to join her in the kitchen to watch and partake in cooking our meals! After a short wait while they prepared the ingredients we were led into the organised, open-plan kitchen. Metal worktops were used for preparation, with a few one-hob gas fires placed around the kitchen. With a tray of ingredients ready to go, she seemed so joyful to share this experience with us, her personality as bright as the yellow apron that hung around her neck.
Then came the day I felt I needed a haircut, not having had it cut for a few months. I managed to find a few hairdressers on the island through a Google search and one in particular had more reviews than any, so I messaged her to see if she could help. Song is a Thai lady who has been cutting hair for many years. She is from further north on the mainland but had moved to the islands a long time ago – firstly, to Phi Phi for 12 years, and she had now been living on Lanta for 11 years. She told me how she had a back injury which had happened back when she lived in Phi Phi and a tsunami had hit. Now she lives happily with her five cats (she used to have seven), and works according to the tourist seasons, having not so much to do in the six to seven months of the off-season, and so much work her hands hurt in the four months of the busy season! She shared how COVID had resulted in no work for many years, and as the islanders relied on tourism for their income, many had needed to borrow from the bank and were now beginning to pay loans back as tourism was increasing again.
Koh Lanta is known to be a remarkable spot for diving, so whilst there we wanted to dive again to experience other sea life. On our first dive day we left our accommodation at 7am to meet our ‘taxi’ across the island. The ‘taxi’ that arrived was a pickup truck with two rows of seats facing each other in the rear trailer, no roof or walls included. Wind rushed past as we caught glimpses of others in their morning routines, locals riding in the back of pickup trucks on their way to work, someone out for a run before it’s too hot.
At the dive centre, we had breakfast on a bamboo platform, an area created for relaxation and gathering before and after the dives. The place we were diving with travelled by speedboat, which made the experience a half-day rather than a full-day event. Though the owner sold this as a great way to not waste time travelling, for Miki and me, who love any occasion to be out on the water, we realised we preferred the other full-day option, especially as we had nowhere else to be!
The boat pounded across the calm, rippling early morning sea; no other boats were in sight at this early hour. Our dive location was Koh Haa (meaning five islands), and was based inside Koh Lanta Marine National Park. As we pulled up next to the five limestone karsts, I was dazzled by the amazingly crystal blue water. The national park had been closed for 3 months to help rejuvenate coral, and after being undisturbed for this length of time, we had high hopes of the water being full of marine life.
Soon, we were in the water and working our way down until we were around 15 metres below the surface. We had to work hard to stay near the coral wall and to continue moving forward against the current. As we made our way, I was amused to watch as two small cleaner fish hovered around Miki’s legs (they do as the name suggests and clean larger fish). We floated by hard coral full of juvenile lionfish and soft anemone, home of the famous clownfish (also known as Nemo), and we passed an indecisive devil scorpionfish looking like it kept attempting to move but then changing its mind.
During our second dive, we saw a fish-shaped rock which, after focusing, materialised into a scorpionfish. We passed an archway underwater and then floated between two coral walls, an underwater valley. This time, we were moving with the current, suspended and drifting like spacemen, watching a movie reel playing before our eyes. As we’d hoped, the world around us was teeming with life, and we felt so very lucky to have the honour to observe for those short, magical hours.
After lunch at the dive centre, we were driven back to our pickup point. We spent the afternoon at Sweet Soul, this time taking advantage of the beach seating. After a good time sinking into our seats and rehydrating with smoothies, we had a dip as the sun’s strength waned, with no waves to fight due to only a tender breeze. Out and showered, we began to dry by the remaining heat of the sun and the breeze. By the time evening arrived, we sat sipping our cocktails, talking about everything and nothing, watching as the orange glow gave way to pastel hues through the sky, the sun moving on until tomorrow. The subtle evening colours and a vibrant white half moon in the baby blue above, replacing the brightness of the day.
A few days later, we celebrated Miki’s birthday. After a lazy, rainy morning in our room, we had planned to spend the day at Sweet Soul, but unfortunately, we arrived to a closed until tomorrow sign. Miki had spotted a vegan sign at a cafe just across the road so we tried there for lunch instead. We sat at a table in the cafe’s peaceful garden, only to be reminded that the downside of being surrounded by plants was the hungry mosquitos that accompanied the greenery! After a post-lunch mission to find some birthday cake for Miki, we chose a bar on the beach a few doors down from Sweet Soul, which also had chairs on the sand. We relaxed for a few hours, played cards, and had snacks and juices. As the heat of the day began to dwindle, we wandered down the beach to try somewhere new for dinner. Though we’d been a little downhearted when we’d first found Sweet Soul closed, it resulted in an adventure to many places we otherwise wouldn’t have gone to, and for that, we were thankful. We arrived back inside the room just before the skies opened again. It was a perfect end to the day out, lying on the bed, listening to the chirps, buzzes and crashing waves – our music for the evening. From our vantage point was the outline of a dimly lit, manicured jungle.
We had learned that there was the potential to see seahorses, sharks and more at one of the other dive sites, and I was very eager to see both sharks and seahorses. Having researched the black-tipped shark, the species that lived at the dive site we were planning to go to, I understood these were not one of the few varieties that have humans on their menu. There was, of course, always a chance a shark could get confused and bite you if they were excited by the scent of blood, but that was a very unlikely scenario, and I was happy with those odds (though may have been less so if I’d ended the day one limb down…).
Our second dive day also coincided with the date I received the results of my final accounting exam. After seeing seahorses, swimming with four sharks, drifting among a shoal of swirling yellow fish, and passing my final exam, I was riding a wave of euphoria. The only sensible thing to do was to spend the afternoon gazing out at the sea, margarita in hand, breathing in the warm, humid air and being incredibly thankful for this glorious ride of life.
As days passed, we fell into the rhythm of island life, days rolling into one, passing time relaxing in one place or another, chatting, playing cards, with nowhere to be and nothing to do. Although days were simple, often with nothing planned, there was no monotony. For us, life on Lanta invited pure peace and ease of mind, as we lost track of time and extended our stay by ‘one more day’ several times before we felt it was time to move on. Even then, leaving wasn’t easy. We had become accustomed to the sight of the sea and the sound of the waves; there so much that I didn’t always notice, but enough that I knew I would miss it once we were gone.
