Going with the flow on an impulsive trip to Thailand

ON THE southwestern coast of Thailand, limestone cliffs tower over seawater against the backdrop of swaying trees.

Long-tail boats – the only means of transportation to Railay Beach – sit parked in the distance, neon-pink-andgreen flags swaying at the bow.

Sand bubbler crabs dip above and below the surface, leaving their intricate designs at the mercy of high tide and flip-flops.

I’m sitting in a bar on the beach, watching water droplets fall down my ice-cold Singha beer, looking at the sunset glimmer on the water.

Picturesque doesn’t even begin to describe this. There’s just one question on my mind: How did I end up here?

A few weeks earlier, I was fantasising about going somewhere – anywhere – far away.

I craved the feeling of being lost in an unfamiliar city, soaking in its sounds, smells and energy.

This led to casually browsing plane tickets to Southeast Asia when a reasonably priced ticket to Bangkok popped up. Later that month, I boarded the plane with a friend who booked her trip a few days after mine.

While jetting across the world on a whim admittedly made me feel pretty cocky, it turns out I’m part of a larger trend.

According to data from the online travel company Skyscanner, demand focused on the Asia-Pacific region – and Thailand, in particular – has taken off since Covid-19 restrictions began to ease in April.

During May and June, for example, it was the third most popular longhaul destination from France, where I live.

Matt Bradford, who analyses trends and insights for Skyscanner, has identified short booking horizons – a window of 30 days or less between booking

and takeoff – as a new behaviour.

He explained that, in France during May and June, 39% of bookings made on the site were for departures within one month. (In the US, that figure was 35%.)

When the doors slide open at Bangkok’s Suvarnabhumi Airport, it hits you: wet, sweltering heat.

Within one minute, my skin was covered in a slick film of humidity and sweat, dripping down the back of my neck as we hopped into a cab.

We drove past roadside dumpling joints, skyscrapers and a seemingly endless string of stalls selling sex toy souvenirs.

The next afternoon, after a delicious lunch at Rung Reung Pork Noodle – a bare-bones, plastic-stool, fan-blasting haven for pork meatballs, noodles and broth – we set off toward Wat Arun, a temple built during the

Ayutthaya era on the bank of the Chao Phraya River.

Its “prang” towers more than 65 metres overhead, intricately decorated with porcelain pieces and walkways that snake up and around it.

As we were strolling through the grounds, a woman approached us offering a boat ride around a nearby floating market.

Our boat driver soon led us through Thonburi's network of klongs, or canals, lined with worn wooden houses, many tilting on the stilts holding them above water.

A woman wearing a straw hat with bows clipped on to the band slowly approached us on her long-tail boat, offering bracelets, key chains and flowery hair clips.

After we politely declined, she reached into her cooler, emerging with a grin. “Beer?” While this normally

wouldn’t send me over the edge with excitement, Bangkok had banned alcohol sales for 24 hours during its election, and a cold Chang sounded pretty good in that heat.

I bought one for myself and our driver, and we continued to drift through the canals.

I’m no floating-market expert, but let’s just say this one was slightly underwhelming; after a quick snack of fried quail eggs with soy sauce and sugar, we set off back toward Bangkok and spent the evening on a rooftop paying for drinks with crypto, the bar’s only payment option.

The next two days would see endless heaps of sausages splattering into hot oil on street food carts, 3am massages on Khaosan Road and walks down the side streets of Sukhumvit.

Then, after being seduced by travellers and locals raving about the south – they generally urged us to avoid Phuket, the notorious destination for tourists looking to get lost in the black hole of its nightlife – we hopped on a plane.

After the intense, electric urban energy of Bangkok, Krabi – a southern province on Thailand’s Andaman Sea – was a literal breath of fresh air.

In Krabi, we set off by long-tail boat to explore the Ko Poda, Ko Thap and Ko Khai (or “Chicken”) islands off the coast, within the Phi Phi Islands national park. To say our first stop looked like a postcard would be a vast understatement.

If you’ve ever imagined yourself on a deserted island, gazing out into crystal-clear waters under the shade of a mangrove tree on a white-sand beach, this was that.

On our last night, we returned to Railay Beach via a long-tail boat, tilting dramatically against the waves, water splashing into the boat through the open sides.

After wading through the water to get to shore, we dropped off our stuff and hit the beach bar.

The next morning, I left Krabi, already feeling nostalgic as that night shifted from reality into memory on the journey back to Paris.

I’m not advocating for always travelling without a plan. We missed a lot. Our floating-market experience could have benefited from better research. We could have seen more sights.

But if someone had asked me, “Would you like to take a rickety longtail boat in high swells to this isolated beach town that will lose power, where you'll be essentially stranded until morning?” I'd say, “Why not?”