This is the take of Sheryl Nadler from the Hamilton Spectator on Phi Phi Island and Koh Lanta... go there on your own risk!
More from the Hamilton Spectator:
I thought I could be a hippie. I really did.
But then I tried to get into this hammock in a shady spot near the beach and well ... I'm sure you can guess how that went.
So I'm wrestling with the thing, which thankfully was made from a silk sheet or something because can you imagine the damage I might've done had it been netting?
In any case, I'm trying to figure out how to get comfortable in it. 'Cause the local guy next to me has just cocooned himself in his like it's the most natural thing in the world, pulling the sides up over himself, probably so he didn't have to watch me thrashing about.
And I finally get into a spot where my feet are propped up on top of this one part and my head is not falling off the thing and I've stopped swinging wildly -- and I'm still getting funny looks from every local who walks by. But I don't care because I'm momentarily stable. And then I look over to my right and I notice the bar.
Well, I wasn't going through this again. So I hung there, reading my book and waiting for the mellowness to take over. Waiting for the moment when I'd be so relaxed, so insanely chilled out that I wouldn't care about the zillion tiny ants crawling all over the floor of my little beach bungalow. Or about the fact that, despite my being so careful, I still fell for a scam, paying way too much for the ferry's island-hopping open ticket.
I'd just arrived on Ko Lanta island in the south of Thailand, from another island, Ko Phi Phi, where I could've stayed forever. I stayed there six days as it was, by far the longest I've spent in any one spot on this trip.
Some guy has deemed Ko Phi Phi one of the five most beautiful islands in the world, and I totally agree. Even though the other islands I've visited have been, like, Montreal and whatever. I still agree. It has to be.
Not to mention the fantastic fruit shakes. And my cute little bungalow in a tree. And the reams and reams of smokin' hot guys. It was truly paradise.
There was only one problem on Ko Phi Phi -- the Swedish girls. Damn Swedish girls, most of whom barely hit the 20-year mark. The 19-year-old Swedish girls with their sparkly white-blond hair and insanely bronzed skin. The tans were, in themselves, a mystery to me. 'Cause, uh, I'm pretty fair-skinned. And despite all the SPF30 sunscreen I douse myself in, I still manage to turn cherry red. Except for those blotches on my back where the spray didn't get to, which is really nice-looking, too.
In any case, I figure it must be awfully cold in Sweden most of the year because the second these girls hit the island, all clothing comes off. On the beach, in the bars, wherever. No tops. And, in most cases, barely-there bottoms. Seriously. Fellas, forget Vegas for the bachelor weekend. Save your pennies and head to Thailand instead.
So the naked Swedish teenager thing posed a big problem for me for obvious reasons. But I was still able to overlook it for the most-part. There were still one or two guys who'd either been rejected by them or couldn't be bothered trying to figure out how to communicate with them. So life was good.
Until that quiet guy from Philadelphia and I spent the evening, first in a pub, then walking around. And then we found ourselves in this club and he finds a Phi Phi bucket, which consists of a mickey of the booze of your choice, one or two cans of Red Bull, a can of some sort of mixer and a straw. And he starts sipping on this bucket and all of a sudden he's dragging me out to the dance floor.
And then there's a wet T-shirt contest and all the Swedes are up there taking their clothes off again and Philly's still sipping on his bucket, smiling widely now as he exclaims: "All right! It's Spring Break: Thailand!"
And that's when I knew. Knew I had to leave. Not just the bar but the island, in search of something different. Something less ... naked blond and Swedish. Unless it was the male variety, of course. But even then ... 20-year-old guys? Ya, not so much.
So I came here to Ko Lanta where everything is chill and every bar is named Irie something or other or Reggae this and that, and it's all driving me crazy. The silence is deafening.
So I'm leaving tomorrow for another island, which I'm told is a cross between Phi Phi and Lanta. And hoping it's off the Swedish girl tour.
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