Satun to Ranong: the joys of travelling in Thailand

---

We had one hiccup in Satun that we didn't see coming. Because we came into Thailand over land, they were only willing to give us a 15 day visa, instead of the 30 days we were expecting. So it was with puzzled faces that Philippe and I walked into the arrivals hall at Satun's ferry port.

A weird looking man in glasses and a wooley hat was hassling us to find out where were were going from the minute we set foot on dry land. He looked a bit like Ali G, but with a mafia boss swagger. We swatted him away from us a few times before we came to realise that he was the boss man in the terminal. There wasn't a taxi in sight when we hit sunlight, and the only communal bus going into town had been pre-booked by Ali-G.

The sad reality was that we didn't really know where we were going. Four days of not being backpackers in Langkawi also meant that we had shrugged off the responsibility of planning our next adventure. We figured we would get to Satun and make a plan, get a bus or find a train station. This was not as easy as we had expected, given that the ferry port was miles away from Satun town. After twenty minutes of watching no vehicle come or go from the carpark, Charles located a gentleman who could arrange a taxi for us. Minutes later a different orange bus swung in front of the building and we were bustled up into the back of it.

When I say 'up' and into the 'back' of it, I mean we were sitting on two wooden benches facing each other with our luggage slung in between us on the back of a truck. With the wind running through our hair, and not a seat belt in sight we made our way towards a hotel in the centre of Satun.

The Hotel looked like it had seen better days, but it was functional and had wireless internet. After an aborted meal in the hotel restaurant (they took our order and twenty minutes later found someone who could speak English to tell us that the kitchen was closed!), we relocated to an eatery nearby. I had the tongue scalded off me by a Thai curry, much to the amusement of the Counets with their safe food.

When my mouth had cooled down we sat in the front lobby listening to a Christmas tree jingle competing with bad Thai music, and made a plan. It was the 27th December and we had no accommodation booked for New Year's Eve. We knew roughly where we wanted to stay, but about twenty exasperating phonecalls later, it appeared as though every bungalow on the small islands of Ko Phayam and Ko Chang were booked solid. Eventually I found a phone number that worked and with only an address to work with I spoke briefly to 'Mama' of 'Mama's Bungalows' and ascertained that they had two free bungalows. We had no idea what they looked like, what level of comforted we'd be in, but were running out of options, so I booked.

With this much done, we turned our thoughts to how we could get to Khao Lak, which was the half way point we had decided on between Satun and Ranong. We sent Karin and Charles off in a tuk-tuk to look for a bus station with information and Philippe and I set about finding somewhere to stay.

They returned jubilant at the enjoyment of the tuk-tuk trip, but clueless as to the bus we should take as the offices were closed given it was Sunday. They had however managed to figure out that all of the buses leave really early in the morning, so we resolved to rise super-early to get ourselves down there by eight o'clock. Charles struck a deal with the same driver to return at 7.15am, and we went off to find food before an early night.

A lady beckoned us to her counter in the bus station with the following morning with the words 'Can I help you?'. Finding an English speaker was half the battle, and soon after we had tickets for the 8.15 bus to Phuket, where we were to get off at a town called Phang Nga. The bus had clearly been pimped by Xhibit in an early episode, because if you managed to look closely (past the shocking pink decor) you would count exactly FIFTEEN speakers between us and the large TV screen, and as luck would have it we were practically sitting on the woofer. Ten minutes after the bus left Satun the hell began. Hour after hour of eye watering bad clanging 'music' and Asian Ronan Keatings were emitted at the exact decibel below the one where your ear drum actually pierces.

Seven hours later I could have kissed the ground we walked on in Phang Nga. I sat listlessly in a travel agency wondering what was missing. The town was bustling around me, but it was actually relatively silent and I nearly cried at the relief! Philippe secured us a (radio-free) taxi to Khao Lak and about an hour later we drove through the centre of Khao Lak. Ten minutes later we pulled into our hotel on the 'outskirts' of town. There's a reason that hotels are that cheap!

It may have been far from town but it had a swimming pool and lovely clean ensuite rooms. It was like being back in Villa Molek again, if only for one night. There was also a free shuttle bus into the town, so we booked ourselves on that and regrouped to pile into the back of the truck at 7pm that evening. I got the impression that Khao Lak is Thailand's Lanzarote. The main street was lined with shops vying for the tourists attention. The restaurants were dear, but the town was more alive than anywhere we've been since Kuala Lumpur. After a sumptuous meal we still had ninety minutes to kill before the next shuttle back the hotel, so Karin and I decided to try the famed Thai massages.

We found the first parlour next to the restaurant and enquired as to whether they could fit us in. A bunch of laughing Thai women welcomed us in and ushered us to a curtained area at the rear of the room. There were several mattresses there but we had no idea of the level of clothing required for a Thai massage, so we waited. About two minutes later we were snapped at to put on the clown trousers supplied and to lie back. We obliged.

For an hour we were put into positions that make a community yoga class look tame. The masseuse used all her limbs to pound me from several angles, and if I'm honest, decimated any illusion I might have had of acceptable personal space. My legs were stretched in ways I didn't think they could go. My back was 'massaged' using vicks' vapour rub by a succession of elbows needling at it and wrists karate chopping it. Every limb was dislocated and put back in place and occasionally she used her hands to rub my muscles down. I felt like I'd had a mixture of a physiotherapy session, a yoga class and a round of kick-boxing rolled into one.

And I liked it! Karin and I emerged confused and amused, but in agreement that it had been a worthwhile experience. We tried to explain it to our men as we waited for the shuttle bus, but from our descriptions they couldn't imagine how we had liked it. I guess the easiest way to describe it is that I didn't necessarily enjoy it, but I liked how I felt afterwards. For 6euros per person, you can hardly argue with that!

Despite originally intending two nights in Khao Lak, we made a decision to travel to Ranong the next day as we had heard that the boats out to the island only run in the morning time. We enquired at reception when and from where the next bus would leave and got a mixture of responses. No one knew the exact time, but we gathered we had to stand on the main road near the hotel until the Phuket-Ranong bus passed by. Restaurants in the area varied in their thoughts on the bus schedule, and one man told us there wouldn't be one for hours, so we should take his taxi instead. It was very frustrating, but in the end we decided to just sit in the shade at the bus stop, and low and behold, one turned up just five minutes later.

Thankfully this bus had no speakers and didn't seem to have been pimped, but it did carry around an amazing number of furry teddy bears on its top front window. We settled in with our books and enjoyed the view of the passing Thai countryside. Palm trees and paddy fields whizzed by and eventually we were dropped off at the side of the road in Ranong, near the bus station. After a visit to a phenomenally unhelpful tourist information office, we hopped in the back of another truck and asked to be taken to the market area in town.

We recognised what was probably the market area and realised that we were still travelling. The taxi kept going, and pulled up in front of a guest house down a side alley. As the driver hopped out expectantly, we all said a determined 'No, markets', and given that we weren't moving, he jumped back in the cab and brought us back to town.

We found acceptable rooms (but they were no Villa Molek!) and went off in search of information about the ferry schedule for the morning. We eventually settled in 'Pon's Place' and pre-booked a taxi to the jetty the next afternoon for the 2pm boat. That evening we ate at the market area where we enjoyed a lovely meal for 3.50euro, for the four of us!
As it happened we went back to Pon's Place for breakfast the next day and were told at 11o'clock that the boat was now at 12pm! We scoffed our food and bailed up into the 'taxi'.

We were curious about what was waiting for us on the other end of the boat trip.

---

Photos

The bus timetable
'Right, where are we going?'

'Pimp my bus'
Thailand edition

Enjoying our 3.50euro meal
For the four of us!