Month: July 2026

2 a.m. I can’t sleep, so I might as well put down on paper something that roughly resembles an itinerary. It will probably change along the way — a chance encounter, a local’s tip, an unexpected favorite is all it takes to shuffle everything — but I needed a starting point.

The beginning is clear: Bangkok, then on toward Phuket, with several stops along the way, mostly in national parks. Hard to decide, there’s so much to see. Then a crossing of the Andaman Sea with a stop on the Phi Phi Islands, before reaching Krabi.

From there, everything gets blurrier. Krabi is full of activities that look expensive on paper — I’m hoping to find better prices once I’m there. Then on to Surat Thani to hop between islands: Koh Samui maybe, reputed to be expensive, Koh Phangan, then Koh Tao, which everyone tells me great things about. Back to the mainland at Chumphon, one last national park, then Bangkok to finish in style before heading home.

All that’s left is to pack my bag. In two days, I take off.

1:45 a.m. My bags are packed, I’ve normally thought of everything — even though “normally” has never stopped anyone from forgetting their charger. A month seemed long on paper. Now that I’m here, with everything there is to see and do, it already feels too short.

I won’t sleep much tonight, and that’s almost on purpose: showing up exhausted is the guarantee of falling asleep on the plane. Twelve hours of flying wears you out — might as well spend them with my eyes closed.

Takeoff in about ten hours. And honestly, I still can’t believe it.

After twelve hours in the air, here I am in Kuala Lumpur for a five-hour layover. In the waiting area, I chat with a Frenchman who slips me a tip: go and see a certain Poppy, on behalf of Jey — she opened a circus school on the island of Koh Samui, Circus Samui. I file the name away in the back of my mind, thinking it might come in handy.

The flight itself goes well: longer than it is pleasant, but decent — an honest meal, a glass of white wine, peanuts and beer once airborne, a screen with movies, music and even a little game to learn a few words of Thai.

Then Bangkok. First impression rather poor: an unpleasant security check, and a police officer asking me for an address where I’m staying in Thailand — which, obviously, I don’t have. Back to square one, scrambling to find a hotel in Phetchaburi. Add to that the classic hassle of changing money, dodging the tour operators and taxi drivers who pounce on you the second you step outside, and the Thai welcome starts on a much less warm note than expected.

The metro, on the other hand, makes up for everything: it runs on tokens, it’s clean, civilized — unlike Paris.

Off to the station for a 5:05 p.m. train that’s supposed to get me to Phetchaburi at 8:10 p.m. A bit last-minute, but with the locals, and that’s what matters: ceiling fan, windows wide open, the door too — a change of scenery from the very first glance. The train crawls along at 10 km/h leaving Bangkok and runs considerably late; I’ll finally arrive around 10 p.m.

Since the stops aren’t written in English, I ask my fellow passengers to let me know when it’s mine. They agree with a smile. I roll myself a cigarette; one of them comes to sit across from me and discreetly pulls out a bit of weed. He asks me to roll him a cigarette, I agree, and he adds “his magic touch” to it. His buddy takes the first one and goes off to smoke it by the door. He asks me for a second one, puts more magic in it, and just as I hand it to him: “No no, this is for you.” I politely decline, he insists, and I finally accept.

Once in Phetchaburi, after a long ride skirting the houses and shopkeepers lining the tracks just a few meters away, I warmly thank my traveling companion and begin the hunt for a place to sleep. I head for the Sabaidee Resort, but take the wrong road. A man calls out to me from his garden, we chat a bit, he offers me a drink through the fence — without managing to tell me where to sleep. I keep going, come across a small restaurant, ask if anyone knows the address. Rather than explaining the way, the owner simply offers me a ride on his scooter.

And here I am at the Sabaidee (250 baht a night). I drop my things and go look for food — heading to the bar right next door, where a small concert is playing in the background. Warm welcome, good food, impeccable service: as soon as my glass is almost empty, a waiter comes back to refill it.

Back to the bungalow — bamboo, fan, mosquito net, mattress on the floor, old-style shared toilet and shower, no flush, a bucket next to it for rinsing. A cat invited itself in for the night.

A lot of transport for this first full day in Thailand — but already quite a few encounters, for a start.

After a rather late bedtime, the wake-up is brutal: 6:30 a.m., the noise of cars, scooters, the whole street stirring. Only logical — the bungalow is made of bamboo, not exactly soundproof. Shower, then off to explore the neighborhood.

It’s already quite hot, even though the sky stays overcast. English-style breakfast, 100 baht, nothing special — next time I’ll eat out. On my way out, I spot bikes for rent (50 baht for the day): let’s go.

I hit the road hoping to find the Tham Khao Luang cave — with no GPS or phone back then, so inevitably a bit blind. After a good hour of fruitless searching, even when asking for directions, I give up. But chance works out well: I stumble upon my second destination of the day without having looked for it, Phra Nakhon Khiri, a temple perched on a mountain with a splendid view.

Looking at the map, I still wonder how I ended up there. From the entrance to the site (150 baht), monkeys are everywhere — an employee keeps them at bay with a slingshot, never aiming to actually hit them, I think. Once inside, there are even more.

The visit is well worth the climb: a first 360° viewpoint, then a sort of temple also open to the whole horizon, with Phetchaburi and its surroundings below. An old-style temple, magnificent, faces one last, equally impressive viewpoint. The climb is tough in the heat, the descent not much easier — the steps are incredibly slippery.

Once the visit is over, I ask again for directions to the caves and set off on the bike. On a hill, I stop to eat and ask around. All around me, nothing anymore: no cars, no tourists, only monkeys — far more than before, and surprisingly better behaved, not one of them tried to steal my water bottle. In a small square, a man tells me where to park the bike and shows me the path to follow.

I climb, walk past a fountain surrounded by monkeys, monkeys again and again all the way up — frankly awesome. Then the steps leading to the cave appear, already impressive. But nothing prepares you for what comes next: an immense main chamber, Buddha statues (I’m not sure) scattered everywhere, and a group of soldiers standing in silent reverence. A natural hole in the ceiling lets the light in and lights up the whole room. The following chambers, smaller, are just as beautiful — a temple built right into the rock, galleries following one after another, statues in all sorts of different poses. A truly exceptional visit.

Back to the bungalow to catch my breath, then off to Wat Kamphaeng Laeng, a pretty temple but nothing more — lots of statues whose meaning completely escapes me. The monks pray there in white robes, different from the orange you usually see.

Then the night market, hoping to find a pair of cropped pants, flip-flops and sunglasses — yes, I left without any of those essentials. Total defeat: nothing but women’s clothes and food in huge quantities.

Cycling in Phetchaburi is doable, as long as you quickly adapt to the local “rules of the road.” Getting lost several times at least let me see the city from every angle, and by the end of the day I could find my way around pretty well. Lovely rides, beautiful scenery a stone’s throw away, an impressive number of monkeys, and Thais who are always helpful and smiling, even without a single word of common language. Also worth remembering: just because a town receives tourists (not that many in Phetchaburi) doesn’t mean the signs will be in English. And the heat never takes a break — even without the sun.

Tomorrow, on to Kaeng Krachan National Park, if I manage to get my hands on the minibus that’s supposed to take me there (100 baht).

A day full of twists and turns. Woken up around 6 a.m. by the noise, but no problem — I take my time getting my things ready before heading to the minibus stop. I’m there around 7:30; the minibus only leaves at 8:30. Enough time to find breakfast — spicy chicken and rice, we’re no longer in France. Not bad at all.

The minibus arrives: there’s only me and a monk, who gets off before me. Arrival at Kaeng Krachan (120 baht) after about an hour on the road.

At the main entrance of the park — one of the largest in Thailand — there isn’t much to see besides a lake. I ask the way to the Thor Thip waterfalls: the answer comes, curt — they’re 50 km from here, near a secondary entrance leading to another, much less accessible area of the park. I ask how to get there. By hitchhiking, I’m told, no bus and no other option.

I eat next door, then start hitchhiking. A few cars go by, honk, wave — the road isn’t very busy, so I keep myself busy juggling stones. And then a car stops: a woman at the wheel, her boyfriend beside her. They ask where I’m going, I try to explain, they tell me to get in.

I have to wait there until 1 p.m. — no organized service, just the hope that a car agrees to take me farther into the park, a bit like hitchhiking right at the entrance itself. Any visitor can pass through this checkpoint without necessarily taking me along; if nobody shows up, I simply stay stuck there. Before leaving, she leaves her number at the guard booth: if I need help, I can call her and she’d come back for me — because nobody ever comes out this far.

I try to communicate with a ranger, impossible. Then a man arrives in a 4×4 — a visitor like any other, not a park employee —, talks with the guards, and signals me to get in. I have no idea what I’m getting into, or where I’m going, or for how long. But I go.

Talking with the guy, I understand the system better: there are set times for going up and coming down, because the track is too narrow for two vehicles to pass each other (I’ll see that for myself later). The ascents take place between 1 p.m. and 3 p.m. — hence the wait I’d been made to endure at the entrance, to see whether anyone would come by. He’s going all the way to the highest camp, where he plans to sleep. And so am I, apparently: no other way to get back down. Which suits me quite well; it brings me closer to the Thor Thip falls I wanted to visit.

We pass the first camp, and there, he warns me: the road is going to get complicated. And indeed — in places it’s no longer really a road, more a track riddled with holes, crossed by streams. Awesome. He tells me he often comes here to watch birds; we talk about everything and nothing during the ride.

After 30 km and more than an hour on the track, we arrive at Phanoen Thung Campsite, the highest and last camp in the park: three tents pitched there. For 300 baht, I can get a tent already set up, with a pillow, a blanket and a small foam mattress — I choose that option, without really knowing the alternatives.

He gives me the grand tour: a viewpoint over the mountains, magnificent, a nice little trail, and a mountain coolness that’s particularly pleasant after the heat down below. He explains that the last parking lot, the starting point for the Thor Thip falls, is about 6 km from here — and that you then have to walk several more kilometers to reach the waterfall itself. Today, anyway, it would be too late: over three hours of walking in total.

He considers taking me there the next day for a moment, before changing his mind: too many leeches on the trail. A bit later, a new obstacle: asking around, he finds out that nobody is going up to the falls tomorrow, which would considerably lengthen the walk if I went alone — 20 km in total. In exchange, he offers to take me to easier, more touristy falls the next day, and then drop me off in Hua Hin. Really helpful.

Evening falls, and I gaze at the view over the mountains. At nightfall, he comes back with two beers, tells me he has two more for himself — I suggest we drink them together. We talk some more, under a magnificent starry sky, without a trace of light pollution to veil it.

A dense day, with a few monkeys spotted along the way — wilder than the ones in Phetchaburi, birds, and so many stars I didn’t know where to look. A huge thank-you to Yin and Hai, who drove me all the way to the checkpoint, 50 km, waiting with me and translating everything that needed translating. And thank you to Mi, for the rest of this day like no other.

Around 3:30 a.m., I’m woken by a noise in the campsite: heavy breathing, but a surprisingly light step. The idea of a bear crosses my mind — someone told me about them being in the area the day before, though I seriously doubt it. I step out of the tent and come across two big porcupines, right next to Mi’s tent. I lie back down, convinced I won’t sleep a wink after a surprise like that.

I end up falling back asleep anyway. When my alarm goes off around 6:30 so I don’t miss the sea of clouds, I have a moment of panic wondering whether it worked — but no, all is well, the show is there. Truly magnificent. I go back up for a coffee, then come back down to admire the view a second time — I’m no longer alone, a few visitors from other campsites have arrived in the meantime. I join Mi and set off with him on the morning trail.

We head back down — the track as punishing as ever. Mi wants to take me to the Pala-U waterfalls, about an hour’s drive away. He buys me a coffee on the way, and we talk about everything and nothing during the ride. He explains that the waterfalls I originally wanted to reach are dangerous, unmarked, infested with leeches, with a real risk of getting lost — few people know them. Oh well, next time.

At Pala-U Falls, a radical change of atmosphere: far more tourists. While I eat, Mi goes on ahead. On the way up, he tells me he won’t go all the way to the top — tired, and in flip-flops on a rocky path, not exactly the ideal gear. He goes back to the car. The walk up to the fifth level is still very beautiful; going higher would take a guide and three full days. Pleasant, then, though far more touristy than what I’ve just lived through.

We set off again, heading for Hua Hin, where Mi drops me off. He asks for directions to take me to the tourist information center, runs into a woman who works there — she gets in with us, and Mi drops us both off not far from the center. Thanks for everything, Mi. The woman hands me a stack of maps of several towns: something to help me get my bearings for what comes next.

I go looking for a place to sleep, check out several spots, and finally settle on the Sofim Hotel (350 baht a night) — a real double bed, for a change. The sheets look dubious, so I ask to have them changed.

I go for a walk. “Massage, massage… happy ending” on every street corner — the girls know their game, but I’m not persuaded. I end up at the beach, without lingering: crowds, deck chairs, horseback rides. Back to the hotel for a shower and a beer, thinking about what’s next with my new maps — the beer costs the same as in Phetchaburi, but for half the quantity.

I head back out to the night market, looking for a scooter rental. I eat there, but shopping-wise, it’s a letdown: lots of counterfeit brands, therefore pricier than plain no-label stuff — still no sunglasses, cropped pants or T-shirt in sight, even though I’m starting to really miss them. I ask about scooter prices (between 200 and 300 baht a day) while I keep walking. Some of the girls I passed earlier recognize me and plant themselves in front of me to insist — I keep smiling, “No, thank you,” tirelessly. I think that’s exactly my problem: too nice, they sense they can push. In some bars, very pretty girls, dressed very short, don’t offer anything in particular — but better not to go in if you don’t want to be harassed.

On the way back, I go through a small alley. A man — not Thai — asks if I’m looking for a room. I say no, but I ask the price anyway; he tells me he also rents scooters, 200 baht a day, opening at 7 a.m., right next to my hotel. I’ll probably go there tomorrow — plus, he gave me good information about the park.

A beautiful day, between the sea of clouds and a gradual return to more touristy places. And strangely, I’m almost starting to miss Phetchaburi — where, however, I never understood a word anyone said to me.

Up around 7, off to the scooter rental. They quickly explain how it works: four gears, all downward, no clutch needed. A coffee later, I hit the road for Khao Sam Roi Yot, 40 km away.

Getting around by scooter has its charm, but the helmet they gave me is practically useless — might as well stick a bowl on my head — and with no visor, all the road dust ends up in my eyes. So I stop along the way to find sunglasses and breakfast (25 baht). The sunglasses marked at 149 baht ring up at 299 at the register — that hurts, but I really need them.

The road is long, especially when you get lost. I ask for directions at a small grocery store; the shopkeeper kindly points out the way, even going so far as to draw me a little map. It’s long, but the scenery is magnificent. I stop at a place with a “camping” sign, which isn’t the one I’m looking for — U-turn. I finally find the right access, drop off the scooter, and start on a bit more than a kilometer of rather rough walking, backpack on. I arrive drenched in sweat — what an idea, staying in jeans for that.

A tent at 150 baht a night, I take one and put down my things.

First swim since arriving in Thailand! The water is excellent, it feels so good. I go back to my tent with a sea view — and the rain shows up. Problem: it shows up inside the tent too. What a pain. I take refuge in the restaurant, ordering just a drink while I wait for it to pass. The rain calms down, but the worry remains: if it starts again, I’m in trouble. I clean up the damage with my towel, which has turned into a proper mop.

Then I head off toward the caves, right behind the campsite. The climb is tough, but the descent is gentle, all the way down to magnificent caves, overrun with vegetation, with a sort of pavilion — temple or meeting hall, hard to say — perched on a small hill, lit by a natural hole in the cave ceiling. I stay a while, eyes wide open. Few people there, most visitors only come in the afternoon. It’s only 2 p.m.; I’m tempted to leave, fearing the rain’s return, but I’ve paid for the night, so I stay.

Second swim to pass the time, with a few improvised acrobatic moves — the old reflexes of the trade come back quickly. Then off to the shower — a water drum and a salad bowl to rinse off, as rudimentary as it is effective. In the distance, monkeys leap from tree to tree, a real choreography. Excellent show.

I try to plan ahead for tomorrow, still worried about the rain — rain and scooters don’t mix. There’s a viewpoint I wanted to do, way down south, while I need to head back north. I’ll see depending on the weather, but I seriously doubt I’ll manage to do everything.

At 6:15 p.m., I finally decide to go eat — second stroke of bad luck of the day, the restaurant is closing, even though it was supposed to stay open until 7. The woman asks if I still want to eat, but I can tell it bothers them; I settle for two bags of chips. Yay. And as if to top it all off, I forgot to buy water — I only have one half-empty bottle for the evening and the night. At the campsite, a group of young people and a couple, on the other hand, planned ahead for food — a barbecue, I think.

After a day like this, I really need to think about doing a load of laundry. A night that promises to be long in the tent, between the heat and the mosquitoes to keep an eye on. A long scooter ride, but with superb landscapes, and a first swim in rather murky water, stirred up by small waves.

Up at 5, still dark. I stay in the tent waiting for sunrise, which comes around 6 — magnificent view from the tent entrance. Breakfast at the restaurant, water resupply, a few acrobatic moves on the beach, then I pack up, trying as best I can to clean the tent.

The walk back is grueling, under a crushing heat. Short break upon reaching the bottom: I run into a French couple who recommend the Khao Daeng viewpoint.

Off to the information center on the scooter, to drop off my bag. Then up to the top of the mountain — a hard climb, half walking, half scrambling, on very sharp rocks, but clearly worth it: on one side, a view over the shrimp farming ponds and the sea; on the other, mountains, vegetation and cliffs.

The rain shows up. I stay a bit, but it quickly picks up — I head back down to shelter under a tree. The descent is hard in the rain, the rocks are slippery.

Once at the bottom, I pick up my bag and head off toward Kaeo Cave, on the same road as Laem Sala Beach. The track is in bad shape, but I make it. I drop the bag, walk a bit, then discover a ladder leading down into the cave. Nobody else at this early hour, no lighting — just small arrow signs so you don’t get lost. I pull out my headlamp, and off I go.

Simply magnificent, but a bit scary: alone, in complete darkness, with sheer drops of 5 meters or more, a very slippery floor, crawling on all fours in places. If you fall in there, or get caught off guard by the bats, you’re in trouble — but truly excellent, almost climbing in some passages.

I set off again in search of food. I come across a very typical spot — a temple, mountains in the background, and a small stand where two men are playing chess. I ask for something to eat; they tell me there are only Thai noodles, making it clear I might not like them. I give it a try. They serve me, by hand, a spicy sauce whose composition I don’t know — surprising, but really good.

Back to Hua Hin on the scooter, the scenery still as beautiful, the road hard under a blazing sun. I stop by the scooter rental guy again, who offers me a room — nothing under 400 baht. Too expensive for me. He then offers me a tiny cubbyhole, reached by a ladder, just enough room for a mattress, at 250 baht. I accept: hard to find better on a Saturday. I can finally do a load of laundry — my clothes, covered in mud after the walks in the rain, badly needed it (150 baht, or 60 baht per kilo).

I keep the scooter for the evening and take the opportunity to look for clothes in a big shopping mall — an immense motorbike parking lot, an entire basement dedicated to the “market food,” food everywhere, even kebabs. Upstairs, a very clean, very big mall, with prices lower than in France but still expensive for brands. I find a T-shirt at 150 baht and cropped pants at 200 baht, in a much more modest shop.

At the guest house, I run into two French women, Sylvia and Marine, who recommend a bar with a concert. That’s where I learn the terrible news: terrorist attacks struck Paris during the night. I get online to find out more, stunned by the news thousands of kilometers from home.

I go down to the garden, have a drink with them, then head out to eat — a lap around the market, something quick, before joining the bars. The neighborhood offers nothing but massages and bars for every taste. I find the Irish pub the girls had told me about, and settle in with a pint in front of a band playing pretty good rock.

Later, I switch bars. A masseuse approaches me — in this part of Hua Hin, the word often covers much more than massages. We talk, and I make it clear that I don’t want to pay for anything. I check other bars, but more expensive, before going back to the pub. A waiter tells me he works at the Tiger Temple, and assures me the tigers aren’t drugged — I only half believe him.

The masseuse comes back to me. I reiterate that I’m not looking for anything in particular; she simply sits down, and we talk, with no apparent ulterior motive. The bar closes; she suggests going for a drink somewhere else, buys me a beer, we play a little pool. She wants to go dancing, I follow — this time she’s the one paying for the drinks. I then walk her home, then go back alone to my hotel, pretty tipsy, around 4 a.m.

A good day, dense with discoveries, and a strange but pleasant evening — nothing missing from my bag when I woke up, no scam, just an improvised evening in good company.

Latest wake-up since I arrived: 10:30, along with a nasty hangover. With nothing planned for leaving, I decide to stay one more night. Nothing like fast food for a morning after like this — but first I have to change money, a hassle on a Sunday. I finally manage, and head to Burger King: cheaper than in France, but much more expensive than local food. Back at the guest house, I take a dip in the garden pool.

Off to the beach, I settle in front of the Hilton, where there aren’t many people. The water is excellent, no trouble getting in. I don’t stay long — lying around doing nothing really isn’t my thing. I go for a wander instead, and come across a fish market, a strong but typical smell. A quiet day, made for recovering from the night before. The two French women suggest having a drink at the pub later; we’ll see.

I spend a quiet moment in the garden — the owner himself doesn’t do much more than smoke cigarettes while sitting in the pool. A few card games later, I go to the market for a bite, then give in to a foot massage, 30 minutes, 99 baht. Frankly pleasant after all those accumulated kilometers of walking.

I then go back to the Irish pub, just for a beer and the evening’s concert. The masseuse I’d run into in the afternoon had asked whether I’d be back tonight — she gives me a big smile from afar, but I head home early, without seeing her up close again. A quiet day, the kind you need every now and then.

I leave Hua Hin with the idea of reaching the Ngao falls, via Ranong. First to Prachuap Khiri Khan, then I’m advised to push on to Chumphon to get to Ranong from there. Along the way, I end up abandoning the Ngao idea — nobody I asked knew the place, and getting there looks like a guaranteed ordeal. Maybe on the way back.

I then decide to spend the night in Chumphon, before heading to Surat Thani the next day — maybe staying there two days, if Naran, a local Couchsurfer, answers me. Chance decides otherwise: I wander into a small bookshop where the saleswoman advises me to go straight to Surat Thani, it’s not that late. A tourist there asks me how I ended up with such a huge bag — his is half the size of mine. Admittedly, this is my first solo trip, and it shows a bit in my packing: no hiking pants or cropped pants, only jeans, hardly ideal in the tropics. I also brought a sleeping bag that takes up an insane amount of room, but which did come in handy two or three times, like for the tent rental at Khao Sam Roi Yot. I finally follow the saleswoman’s advice: off to Surat Thani.

I’ll have spent the whole day in three different minibuses — nothing thrilling, a pure transition day.

Arriving in Surat, touts practically throw themselves at me as soon as the door opens to get me into a tuk-tuk. I get off at the next stop to escape them. I walk in search of a place to sleep, harassed by the honking of tuk-tuks and motorbike taxis of every kind. I ask an Englishman for advice, who turns out to be an English teacher settled here. He takes me to a hotel where I get a room (150 baht a night) — a real bed, a slightly hard mattress, but never mind.

I drop off my things and rush to the night market — I haven’t eaten anything all day except a croissant in the morning, a chocolate bar at noon and a small bag of chips.

Surat Thani is much calmer than Hua Hin, a very different atmosphere: here, people are just passing through, long enough to catch the ferry to the islands, nothing more. Fewer bars, massage parlors and restaurants on every corner — a change, for better and for worse.

I’m now waiting to see if Naran offers me something, possibly a place to stay. Otherwise, off to Khao Sok — there isn’t much else to see around here, I think.

Check-out around 10. I set off again, backpack on, through the streets of Surat Thani, trying to reach Naran. Finding a working public phone, and figuring out how it works, turns out to be more complicated than expected. I finally manage, but the conversation is laborious out on the street — and the call cuts off, no credit left. I think: darn. The phone rings almost immediately: it’s him calling back. We set a meeting at my hotel around 1 p.m. In the meantime, I keep walking around the city.

1 p.m. comes. I settle into the café next to the hotel. A man walks in: “Are you Damien?” Phew, there he is. We sit down, chat a bit — he has to rush off to work but will come back for me at 3:30. He stops by the reception so I can leave my bag there: I’m finally lighter. He also tells me where the bus/minibus station for Khao Sok is.

I go ask for information: first bus at 6:40 a.m. (150 baht), first minibus at 6:30 (250 baht), then a departure every hour.

I kill time poking around a small tea room until 3, then go back to the hotel.

Naran has me climb into his van. I explain that I plan to take the first bus in the morning to Khao Sok — he lives about ten kilometers from there, and I don’t want to wake him that early. Too bad, I would have liked to see how Thais live day to day.

We arrive at the riverbank, where three other people join us. For a moment I wonder whether Naran might be a tour guide in disguise — but no, just Couchsurfing. There’s a Swiss couple and a Finn.

Naran has us board a small boat for an hour’s outing on the river, among jungle, stilt houses and wooden huts alongside real fancy villas. Truly magnificent — a very beautiful ride, punctuated by the “captain’s” explanations, translated bit by bit by Naran. Along the way, two or three monitor lizards, those big lizards, sometimes in the water, sometimes perched in the trees.

He then suggests we go eat at the market. A magnificent place, spotlessly clean, with all kinds of food — traditional, Chinese, pastries. Naran explains what we don’t recognize, questions the vendors for us, translates.

At 6 p.m., music blares from the loudspeakers. Everyone stops dead, goes quiet, freezes. We wait for the end of this minute of silence before sitting down. Naran explains: it happens twice a day, at 8 a.m. and 6 p.m., a sort of anthem — as soon as you hear it, wherever you are, you stop and listen. Impressive to experience.

Naran has to rush off to work, and drives us back. The Swiss couple stay at the market; I climb into the back of his van, sitting on a pallet for lack of a seat — rather fun. The Finn and I get off near the river; I thank Naran for everything, and ask how much I owe him for the boat. He splits it five ways: 60 baht per person, for an hour’s ride. Cheap.

A quiet walk back to the hotel, with a stop at a cake stand — where I manage the feat of knocking over half the display with my bag. I head off, head hung a little low, toward the hotel.

Too much walking today: sore feet, a few blisters under the big toe, and one, badly placed under the little toe, which I end up popping with my Opinel. I hope it won’t bother me too much in the national park.

A day that started badly — not much to do in the morning except walk — but more than made up for by a lovely encounter with Naran and other backpackers passing through. A small regret at not having slept at his place, but leaving later the next day wasn’t an option.

Check-out at 6:15, then the bus to Khao Sok National Park (30 baht). Few people on board, a bit chilly because of the AC. Arrival around 9:30 at the information center, where I meet two French women — I exchange a few words with one of them.

Arrival at Khao Sok, or almost: I still have 2 km to walk. As soon as I step off the bus, I’m approached with hotel offers; I politely answer that I haven’t decided anything yet. The walk is long and heavy with the big bag; I finally arrive around 10:15, in a park already noticeably more touristy than the previous ones.

Entrance is 300 baht, and there’s a major constraint: you can’t go beyond 3 km without a guide. I walk to the waterfall and the swimming spot — an easy dirt path, passable by pickup truck. I never really see the waterfalls, or if I do, they’re so small they escaped me. I swim anyway, the water a bit cooler than the sea but pleasant, in a rather quiet atmosphere. I chat with other travelers, including Adélaïde, a French woman traveling for a stretch with a travel companion she met along the way — a pretty nice encounter. She gives me some tips for Koh Phi Phi, promising to tell me more via Facebook.

I’d heard a lot about doing the lake tour, a one- or two-day excursion at 2,500 baht. I drop the idea (out of my budget…) and decide to head for Khao Lak, rather disappointed by this park — I, who had heard so many good things about it.

I wait for the bus (130 baht), along with two German women on their way to Phuket, who share exactly the same disappointment about the park. The bus arrives, air-conditioned but relaxed; after a while, I go sit next to one of the German women, with whom things click, to continue the conversation. Arrival in Khao Lak: I find a street, a place to stay — the Monkey Dive hostel.

There are only two of us in the dorm, the beds are concrete under cotton. I go looking for food: everything is noticeably pricier than elsewhere, you only see tourists here. I decide to stay just one night. Small splurge of the day: a GoPro pole, 450 baht.

I go looking for the beach, at night, and come across a suit salesman who first serves me his usual spiel — before we end up actually talking, without him trying to sell me anything. A customer arrives, I slip off toward the beach: magnificent, lightning in the distance streaking the sky.

I run into my new friend again on my way back; he’s closing up shop and we stay chatting for a good while, about everything and nothing. The conversation drifts largely toward women — he tells me, without beating around the bush, about his habits with local prostitutes, ladyboys included, even though he’s married (he’s of Burmese origin, his wife is Thai). An hour and a half of improbable conversation, before I head off.

No wifi in the dorm, so I camp out on the stairs for a bit to get online. Going back up, I run into my one-night roommate, a German — we chat, he seems anxious but very friendly. Off to bed.

I take the bus to Phuket. As soon as I get off, touts are already hassling me. True to habit, I walk and come across a hostel offering air-conditioned dorms at 299 baht a night. Perfect.

Rain and thunder show up. I take the opportunity to go for a walk and, as often happens, I end up getting lost, zigzagging through streets and alleys with no real goal. In the end, from walking all over, Phuket doesn’t seem as ruined as I’d been led to fear. I was expecting something worse than Hua Hin — the place stays rather quiet, unless I simply got lost in the right spot.

Back at the hostel, where the rain and thunder intensify — enough to pin me indoors for a good while. As soon as there’s a lull, I head out to eat, and finally find an affordable place. The waitress seems to be making eyes at me, but communication remains complicated. I don’t linger and head back to bed.

Tomorrow, off to the information desk to find out how to get to Koh Phi Phi — we’ll see how.

Not knowing where the port is, I go with the simplest approach and book my transport through the hostel (Dest Stay). The minibus that comes to pick me up is already packed. Once at the port, it’s an endless queue and the most confusing organization imaginable. Boarding the ferry, the realization hits: nothing but tourists. No more smiles — here, the welcome boils down to a mechanical “welcome,” purely commercial.

An hour of waiting, motionless, before the boat finally casts off. Avatar playing on the onboard screens helps pass the time during the hour-and-a-half crossing — and the scenery is already up to the task.

The arrival is a shock of beauty: steep cliffs plunging into transparent water. The return to reality is immediate, though — a general scramble to get the bags at the dock. Bag in hand, I go looking for the Blanco hostel, which lets me cross the island’s alleys — entirely pedestrian, not a single car, just carts pulled by Thais for travelers who’d rather not carry their own bags.

I finally find the hostel, right on the beach — but the dorm rate is an instant cold shower, nothing like the prices listed in my guidebook. I find another one, a bit set back (I don’t care, no need to be on the sand), at 300 baht a night. Nothing like a classic hostel, actually: one huge room lined with some forty bunk beds, called Hangover. No kitchen, but quiet, clean, air-conditioned, with secure lockers. I drop my bag and head straight back out.

I book a snorkeling excursion around Phi Phi Leh (800 baht). I’ll learn later that the Blanco hostel offered the same thing for 350 baht — but the agency I picked is a real diving school, so the service should be different. Then off to the island’s viewpoint: an endless climb of stairs, capped by a checkpoint that asks for 30 baht — private land, you see —, on top of the 20 baht I already paid to enter the island. Not expensive, but you don’t expect it. I pay, I climb: the view of the mountains and the twin bay is clearly worth the trip.

Quick return to the hostel to catch my breath, then off to dinner. I find a small restaurant, affordable and good. Things turn sour when I reach the beach: open-air bars stringing together blasting music, an open-air nightclub atmosphere. Fire jugglers run through their moves, technically impeccable, but without a smile — as if they’re doing it reluctantly. Farther on, other groups reproduce the same show, children included.

I settle back into the first bar to see what comes next, which turns into a freestyle session on the sand, a few beers in hand. A very drunk tourist barges in and grabs the flaming bolas for a laugh. All around, a fine collection of permanently shirtless louts, and a few attitudes that take themselves a bit too seriously. Off to the restroom — 10 baht. Here, absolutely everything costs money.

To end the evening on a calmer note, I find refuge in a quieter bar in the center, where a duo delivers a pretty good performance. Back to the dorm, with the feeling of having drunk a bit more than planned — the island’s atmosphere is contagious that way.

Koh Phi Phi remains splendid on paper — cliffs, turquoise water, a breathtaking viewpoint — but the island seems tailored almost exclusively for partying, at the expense of everything else. It’s not that I don’t like partying; it’s that here, there’s almost nothing but that.

Up around 10, a small coffee, then a stroll to pass the time until 2 p.m. — snorkeling time. Off to the diving school, where they have me try on fins and a wetsuit, before boarding a long-tail boat. There are seven of us, plus Kim, our guide, and the “captain,” heading for Phi Phi Leh.

First stop: Kim gives us a few explanations, then it’s the big jump into the water — ours is the only boat at this spot. I wasn’t expecting such depth, but visibility is excellent: a real treat, multicolored fish, small sharks, even a turtle. Great.

We swim along the cliffs before rejoining the boat, anchored about fifty meters offshore. Going from the cliff edge out to open water, the feeling of depth becomes almost strange — swimming without ever seeing the bottom, only blue as far as the eye can see.

We head off toward the famous Maya Bay, the beach made famous by the film of the same name. We stay in the water — 400 baht to set foot on the sand, no thanks. Lots of people, but very beautiful fish all the same.

On to the next spot, quieter, turquoise water where tourists swim with life jackets on their backs. I’m told there’s a chance of spotting baby sharks — I won’t end up seeing any. Last stop of the day, not really meant for snorkeling but to close out the outing gently: a magnificent place, ringed by cliffs, water of perfect transparency. Excellent.

On the way back, the sunset over the cliffs is the finishing touch, a feast for the eyes. In the end, I’d found it cheaper than the “Adventure Club” agency, for a small group — sometimes even alone at a spot, with unlimited fruit and water. Other boats we passed along the way had 15 to 20 people aboard: clearly, I made the right choice.

Back on land, I buy my ticket to Koh Lanta, wolf down a slice of pizza, then head to the bar where a concert is playing, before moving on to the beach club and its fire show. This time, I get on the dance floor. Back at the dorm around 2 a.m. Off to bed.

American-style breakfast — bacon, fried egg, ham, toast and coffee for 70 baht. Then departure aboard the ferry to Koh Lanta, where touts are already prowling on board. One of them turns out to be useful after all: he offers me a dorm at 300 baht a night, near the beach, with a pool and transport included from the port. I accept.

The dorm is very clean, air-conditioned, shared with three other girls. I drop off my things and go for a walk — the place is rather quiet, one long road lined with shops and restaurants, nothing more.

Back at the dorm, I chat for a while with one of the girls (Hermine), a Dutch woman — we compare our respective trips. Then I head back out to see the beach: calm, almost silent, a real contrast with the electric atmosphere of Koh Phi Phi. One last round to eat and wander, then back to the dorm. Off to bed. A small, quiet day.

Up around 8:30, off to the reception of Sunny House, where I’m staying, to rent a scooter for the day (250 baht). Heading for the national park — except I get lost on the way and end up in the mangroves, at the very north of Koh Lanta. I go out for a kayak ride (300 baht), frankly pleasant: my kayak, me, and the sun as my only company. Result: a well-deserved little sunburn. I wander a bit more on foot through the mangroves before hitting the road again, on the receptionist’s advice, toward an old fishing village.

I arrive in the south of the island: a simple street lined with stilt houses, converted into restaurants and shops. I stop to eat — to reach the terrace, you have to cross several rooms, including the kitchen itself, before emerging onto a splendid view of the sea and the surrounding islands. Really pretty

I set off again in search of a “viewpoint” signposted farther on — which turns out to be just a restaurant. I continue on and come across a sign for caves. I get there by a dirt path, and run into Hermine, the Dutch woman from the dorm, with a German guy: impossible for them to visit, they’re in flip-flops. Hermine also tells me a guide is mandatory to get in (300 baht). I drop the idea, but stay a while at the restaurant next door, waiting for the rain to calm down.

Next, a waterfall — a pretty walk in the forest, but a tiny waterfall at the end. A path climbs above the falls; I venture up and meet a man coming down. He warns me: it’s just a trail following the river, nothing at the end, and very slippery rocks — going up is fine, but going down looks tougher. U-turn after about 200 meters.

On the way down, I take every new trail that appears, a bit at random, to the point of no longer knowing where I am. I end up following the river’s course, which brings me back to the right path. I stop for a moment to watch an elephant, then get back on the road to a small beach nestled in a cove, where I take a contemplative break. Then north, with a stop at an improvised but frankly pleasant market.

Back to the dorm, then to the beach, with the idea of doing a few acrobatic moves — but too many people are already settled in. I sit down at a bar instead, beer in hand, to enjoy the sunset. A bit of relaxation does me good.

Back at the dorm, lots of new arrivals — good atmosphere. Hermine suggests going to eat with her, the German guy and another traveler who’s supposed to join us; we end up being five. It feels good to share a meal as a group, even though everyone speaks much more fluent English than I do, and I sometimes lose the thread of the conversation. One of the guys leaves us after dinner; the others suggest finishing the evening at a bar with a pool table.

Very good atmosphere: a game of pool, beers, Jenga, and the waitress treating us to a pretty good shot. On the way back, we run into a girl from the dorm who tells us about a campfire organized on the beach by other travelers. We stop by, one last beer in hand, good vibes all around — but it’s time to go to sleep.

Well, aside from lounging on the beach doing nothing, there’s not much left to see on Koh Lanta. So, on to Krabi — an endless chain of minibuses and ferries: minibus, ferry, minibus, ferry, minibus.

On arrival, two girls get off with me. I spot a hotel advertising rooms at 250, 300 and 400 baht depending on size, and move in without even knowing its name — 300 baht for the big room, fan and double bed, more than enough.

I settle in for a moment, while the rain calms down, before going out for a walk. The town has a slightly rough side, but nothing bothersome. I run into the two French women from the minibus again, at the market — we swap a few tips about what to do in the area, then each goes their own way.

The market is worth the detour: quite a few food stalls, clothing stalls, and even a dart-throwing stall — an improvised fairground atmosphere. Then off to bed.

A relaxed wake-up — the forecast calls for gloomy weather all day, so I’m not sure what to do with my time. I finally opt for Tiger Cave, its temple and its view over the mountain. I look for a bus to take me there, but the motorbike taxis hound me; I end up taking one, at the same price anyway.

Arriving on site, a sign reads: “1237 steps to top mountain.” This promises to be tiring under this sun. Just on the way up, I’m already taking in plenty of views — and I’m not the only one climbing: several dogs make the ascent with the same determination, some going up, others coming down, and a few settled up there as if they lived there. Brave animals, putting themselves through such an effort. I reach the top sweaty, of course, but happy — 20 to 25 minutes of climbing. The view is magnificent, dominated by an enormous golden Buddha statue. No regrets about climbing up. I head back down and stop to eat some pineapple and have a drink.

I discover there’s still more to see, so I follow up with a short loop through the forest: places of prayer, immense trees, small caves, and dogs barking behind me and getting closer as I walk. I play along — a bit like an improvised game of “Red Light, Green Light”: as soon as I turn around to face them, they stop dead and stay perfectly calm, then start again as soon as I continue on my way. Amusing, and above all reassuring: apparently, more noise than real threat. On the way down the stairs, a stand sells food for the monkeys — makes sense, they’re everywhere here.

Back in Krabi Town, off to the market. There, street vendors press me to buy sorts of wreaths woven from palm leaves and flowers, and even small cones holding a candle and incense. At the time, I don’t quite understand what everyone is selling, or why — I tell myself I’ll come back and look more closely in the evening.

I spend a while at the hotel, then head back to the market to eat: impossible, too many people, it annoys me, so I go looking for a restaurant elsewhere. I eat, then return to the market to watch the Krathong release. And there, those lights drifting on the river — really beautiful. I go around the vendors, but I want to understand the meaning of the thing before buying one. I finally run into someone who explains: it’s an offering to thank the water goddess, basically. I’ll learn later that it’s Loy Krathong, a big Thai festival celebrated on the November full moon — in the moment, I’m discovering all this without knowing its name.

I buy mine (40 baht) and gently set it on the water. Yay. I settle in to watch it drift away with the others. And there, I notice children rummaging in the water to retrieve the coins some people slip into their Krathong — with no one around seeming surprised.

I sit down in a rasta bar, and chat a bit with a Thai man who confides that even though these children are poor, taking that money brings them bad karma. I then talk for a while with an Englishman before heading home to bed.

In the end, a Loy Krathong evening experienced in a low-key way — next time, I’d like to see it in a bigger city.

I hesitate a bit over the day’s plan, before settling on Railay. The weather is nice, for the moment at least. Railay isn’t an island strictly speaking, but it’s only reachable by boat (150 baht). Already from the boat, the scenery is superb.

Arriving, I go looking for the viewpoint, take the wrong path, and stumble instead upon a very beautiful beach. U-turn, heading for the right viewpoint this time. Getting there is almost climbing, but in the good sense of the word. Once at the top, the view is nice, nothing more — nothing exceptional.

I head back down toward the lagoon. There, quite a few people turn back before even getting there: the descent turns into a real climb, vertical rocks, very slippery, for about 5 meters, with an equally slippery rope to help. I don’t give up, even though the descent is far from easy — it’s incredibly slippery. But the effort is more than worth it: at the bottom, it’s even more beautiful than advertised, a lagoon ringed by cliffs, few people given the difficulty of access. I earned this swim in a place like this.

After that, I climb back up — dripping with reddish mud collected from the rocks. The climb back is much easier, but not for everyone: I stop along the way to help a few people in difficulty, turning my own body into an improvised staircase to make their ascent easier.

On my way down to the beach, I bump into a guy I’d already spotted at the lagoon. He tells me about a cave you can reach by climbing a bit, and I follow. To get there, you have to walk a hundred meters or so through the jungle behind the beach — in other words, few people venture there. Indeed, the only people we meet there are climbers, staying focused on their wall while we go off exploring the galleries. Several galleries follow one another, offering superb views of the beach — a very good time with this Russian and his Swedish friend, I think. Cool of him to take me along on this discovery.

I go on my own way, I’m hungry, but first treat myself to a quick dip to cool off and wash up a bit. Meal swallowed, back to Krabi — the water had dropped a lot in the meantime, which makes navigation a bit trickier for the boats.

Back in Krabi, an ice cream break, then to the hotel: cleaning my shoes and taking a good shower are a must. I also take the opportunity to book my ticket to Koh Samui (500 baht).

One last stroll through Krabi market, hoping to find a hat or cropped pants — no luck, nothing in my size. I fall back on Thai pancakes, pretty good, and go eat them quietly by the river. Back to the hotel for one last night in Krabi.

Lots still to do around Krabi — but no time to fit it all in.

After a minibus, a bus, then a ferry, here I am on Koh Samui — in Nathon, to be exact. As soon as I step off, taxis are already pouncing on me, and it’s getting tiresome. One of them offers to take me to the other end of the island, the east side, to Hat Chaweng — where things are happening, between bars and clubs — for the modest sum of 700 baht. Good one. I much prefer to stay quiet here, even if it means leaving from the same spot later.

I find a hotel at 300 baht a night, a room with a double bed and a fan. They also rent scooters, 200 baht a day — for tomorrow, probably. Very warm welcome, with the first Thai woman I’ve met since the start of the trip who speaks French.

I take a quick look around: not much to report, a tiny market — only food stalls — and a few shops already mostly closed. I go to bed early tonight.

Today, I rent a scooter to explore the island (200 baht), heading for the Na Muang waterfalls. I reach the first one: the parking lot is packed with taxis and other vehicles, it reeks of tourist attraction — and indeed, that’s what it is. I go around by the other side of the river, where there’s nobody; a bit farther down, people go by on elephant back.

I head off toward the second waterfall, a bit less crowded since you have to walk a little and climb higher. I go and finally, nobody! I head back down to where you can swim; on the way, water slides appear… dismal in a place like this. I take a quick dive to cool off, then get back on the road toward the parking lot.

I stop for a small ice cream, and I overhear two guys asking if the waterfalls are far. A woman answers: about 1 km, but you can take a taxi. They choose the taxi. Lazy bums😂.

At the parking lot, they were also offering photos with a leopard, a tiger (baby tiger), elephant rides, monkey or elephant shows… That kind of attraction, no thanks. I quickly get back on the road to find Hin Ta and Hin Yai (literally “grandfather and grandmother”), the rocks supposedly named that. A man points me to the parking area, I go, 10 baht to get in… And arriving in front of Hin Ta Hin Yai, well, they’re just rocks — I was expecting cliffs, but no.

A sign points to a “Viewpoint,” I go, another 20 baht. At the top: really nothing exceptional. Need the restroom? 5 baht. I increasingly feel that here, the tourist is nothing but a walking wallet.

I get back on the road in search of a fishing village, or at least that’s what the sign announced. On site: shops, restaurants, massages — walking down the street, I feel like people see me only as a passing customer, never as a simple visitor. The only times I see the sea is through restaurant windows. I keep going without really knowing where I’m headed, circling the island, before returning to the hotel. It’s only 3 p.m.; I think about what’s next.

I finally head off toward the south of the island. I come across a temple housing a mummified monk — but that’s all I’ll see of it, the rain suddenly showing up. I shelter at the entrance for twenty minutes, with a Frenchman and a Canadian woman, while the shower passes. I get back on the road toward the hotel as the clouds pile up, and I’m glad I did: I still get a good soaking on the way.

I go looking for somewhere to eat. A first place is already closing; I find a second one, I order, and the waitress asks if I’m sure of my choice — “it’s spicy.” I take my chances: in the end, excellent. Back to the hotel, before going to bed (the connection in my room is catastrophic).

In conclusion, rather disappointed by Koh Samui: lots of tourist traps, and the beaches, I didn’t even see them, even though I circled the whole island. The main sites are signposted, but sometimes very badly. I hope Koh Phangan will live up to its promises better.

Off to Koh Phangan. The woman at the ferry reception is frankly unpleasant… The ferry is an hour late, but here we go, we finally board — it pitches wildly, but we get there.

As soon as I disembark, a woman approaches me offering a hotel: 400 baht a night, plus 100 baht for transport. I explain that I’m looking for something cheaper, nearby. She makes a phone call, and someone comes to pick me up on a scooter for a dorm at 300 baht. Cool.

The dorm is very basic, but the owner is lovely — I’m the dorm’s only occupant that night. I head out toward Sala Thong, to eat and see a bit of the place. I snack at a small market, 50 baht, then walk quite a bit, before turning back: the road I was following wasn’t leading back to the same town.

Back at Pen Hostel. Internet catastrophic, rather annoying. Then to the beach to train a bit, before going back to the market for dinner.

Back at the hostel. I’m thinking of renting a scooter tomorrow — 150 baht apparently — to tour the island. For now, the atmosphere seems more welcoming than on Koh Samui, with one exception: that habit all the scooter renters have of accosting everyone relentlessly. That gets really old.

A pineapple for breakfast, then scooter rental, 150 baht. I’m a bit freaked out, remembering everything I’ve read about local scams, but oh well, let’s go. The renter inspects the scooter, takes photos and a copy of my passport.

It starts to rain. I wait for a break before setting off for the Phaeng waterfalls, but I quickly have to stop along the way, the rain getting too heavy.

I set off again for the falls. An impressive cascade reveals itself on the other side of the river, frankly raging with all this rain. I continue to the viewpoint — a pretty nice walk, rewarded with a lovely view at the top. I head back down and stop for a coffee; good thing I did, because the rain immediately turns into a real deluge.

Once the downpour eases, I head off toward the north of the island. The rain picks up again, I’m soaked to the bone; I stop to eat and wait for another lull. The restaurant manager tells me about Paradise Waterfall, about 2 km away. I go, the access road is a bit rough, but it works. An impressive flow of water, but a frankly less beautiful view than expected, partly hidden by rocks. I go take a look at the beach right after the restaurant, but the tide is so high that not a trace of it remains.

I head back south, following the coast — superb views, a few stops to admire beaches along the way. The roads are paved but dotted with potholes and sand bumps; better to stay alert. On the way, I run into a couple: the girl falls off her scooter. Nothing serious, just a scrape on her leg because of the sand, but I can’t even imagine the bill waiting for her for the damage to the bike.

I continue south, between ups and downs, a real treat for the eyes. I reach Hat Rin, the famous Full Moon Party beach — surprisingly calm, rather small, probably because of the high tide. I take the chance to swim in waves, something rather rare around here. The sun finally comes back, and it feels so good. A few acrobatic moves to top it all off.

I hit the road again, admiring the scenery, until the dreaded moment: returning the scooter. In the end, everything goes fine — no scratch, no last-minute trick. Back to the hostel, then off to dinner.

In the end, Koh Phangan is a beautiful island. I regret having seen only the west coast — most of the east coast being reachable only by boat — but the island has managed to stay wild, with superb landscapes and residents markedly warmer than on Koh Samui, in my opinion. Tomorrow, departure for Koh Tao around 12:30: two hours by boat, with the risk that the return trip from Koh Tao to Chumphon will be even longer.

Off to Koh Tao today. After 2 hours on the ferry, I’ve arrived. I go looking for the Backpacker Hostel, one of the cheapest on the island. I start walking, then a motorbike taxi stops: the hostel is still 4 km away, so I hop on with the driver for 100 baht. On the way, I spot a flying trapeze set up outdoors — my old line of work, of course it intrigues me.

I get to the hostel, 300 baht a night, fine, several dorms available. They give me what I need to make my bed; I drop my things, then go eat and see this flying trapeze up close.

There, I chat with Gemma, the owner, and Elisa, a Belgian customer who came to give it a try. Both are delighted to run into someone who knows the scene — me just as much, to be able to talk about it with people from the business after all this time. Gemma offers to let me go up in turn; I accept without hesitation, and the moment spent up there, talking and sharing this common passion, is truly a pleasure.

We swap contacts before everyone heads home; they even invite me to come back the next day if the weather allows.

I ask about snorkeling: some spots are reachable on your own, so I’m thinking of renting a scooter and gear to chain several places together, maybe with a jungle trek on the program.

I end the evening on the beach, among a few fire jugglers — different from the ones I saw on Phi Phi, before heading back to the hostel. There are only two of us in a dorm of eight: a cheerful mess in there, but everyone puts up with it without a problem. Lots of tourists, drink stands and buckets on every corner — a fun atmosphere, even if I was expecting something a bit calmer and airier.

I wake in the quiet, and head off to rent a scooter and snorkeling gear while everyone is still asleep in the dorm. Last night, the fan made an infernal noise, not to mention a couple who came in around 4 a.m., laughing and a flashlight turned on… but oh well.

Scooter rental (150 baht) and snorkeling gear (100 baht for fins, mask and snorkel, plus a 100 baht deposit).

First stop, somewhat by chance: Tanote Bay. The road to get there is really rough — pavement in places, otherwise dirt, sand and stones — but it works. The beach is rather quiet, few people, but the sea is choppy, with good big waves, and slightly cloudy water. Plenty of fish of every color though, some of them really huge. Overall a good spot.

Next, Ao Leuk. On arrival, the beach is rather dirty — plastic residue, assorted trash, and quite a few waves too. In the water, same finding: the coral and fish are pretty, but drowned under too much trash. Coming back toward the beach, I cross a passage littered with plastic bags, buckets, bits of rope — disgusting, to the point that I have to slalom between the debris. I don’t stay too long.

Leaving, I stumble upon Shark Bay, reached by crossing a small seaside resort, between the bungalows. Quite a few fish, but I prefer not to go too far out because of my belongings left on the shore, and I spot boats in the distance and don’t know the currents — so I don’t stay long. No chance to spot any sharks, too bad.

After that, I feel like going back to the flying trapeze. I head back to the hostel: Gemma and Elisa have written to tell me about a class at 2:30 p.m., specifying that I’m welcome. I go, train a bit while waiting for everyone to arrive, then take part again, this time, the chance to catch Elisa on several tricks. A beautiful session, in a truly relaxed atmosphere.

After class, Gemma buys us a beer. I chat with Elisa, who invites me over to her place for a drink after I return my snorkeling gear.

We stop by her dive school along the way. She really lives in the middle of the jungle, a very calm setting with a superb view. We talk a lot about trapeze, but also about our respective impressions of Thailand, with her boyfriend Pierre. I head home at nightfall, careful on the road, to the hostel for dinner, then off to bed.

Wake-up, breakfast, then off to the scooter rental to tell them I’m keeping it one more day. I then try to check out some of the spots Elisa recommended. The first turns out to be a private path — U-turn, I’ll reach it later by another access.

I go for a little walk along the beaches. Everything remains very natural and wild, despite the presence of several resorts along the way; the coves, for their part, are beautiful and well kept, with very few people. I stop successively at Jansom Bay, Sai Nuan Beach, Sai Nuan Bay, then Cape Ja Te Kang, where I treat myself to a small swim to cool off.

Back the other way — I struggle a bit to find where I parked the scooter, but I end up finding it.

I head back to Flying Trapeze Adventures. A great time all together: we chat, fly a bit, and Gemma gives me a few solid pointers. A lovely session, carried by a really great vibe.

Once the class wraps up, Gemma has to run — goodbye. Elisa then invites me over for a drink at her place. We chat for a good while longer with her and her boyfriend, who plays us one of his DJ mixes.

I leave delighted to have crossed paths with these people. Back at the scooter rental: everything’s in order, no scratches to report.

I’m leaving Koh Tao tomorrow: 850 baht for the boat and the night bus, departing at 2:30pm, arriving at 5:30am — saving a night’s hotel along the way. The touristy side of the island isn’t really my thing, but the place is well known for diving, which explains the crowds. As soon as you move a little away from Sairee, things get noticeably calmer again. Some really lovely encounters on this island of Koh Tao.

Departure for Bangkok planned for 2 p.m. today. I was hoping to enjoy the beach this morning, but it’s raining, and not a little. A pickup truck comes to get me, heading for the port.

The boat is already there. Even though I didn’t do all that much in Koh Tao, there’s a small pang leaving the island, because of those lovely encounters.

After about 3 hours by boat, we reach the port. Three hours to kill before the bus, so I head off to wander around town — typically Thai. In a square, a kind of open-air dance class to stay in shape, while some young guys go back and forth between football and footvolley on a badminton net — pretty skilled, actually. Lots of smiles and little hellos as I pass by.

9pm, a sort of pickup-bus comes to collect us to catch the night bus. We climb aboard — a bit of a lounge-like vibe, but not much space. The bus still manages to feel pretty classy all the same.

Arrival in Bangkok around 5:30 a.m. The taxi drivers rush at the people getting off the bus, but I stick to my plan: off to Khaosan Road, on foot. Barely on the street, the atmosphere doesn’t really win me over — the hotels are cheap, without being very welcoming. I sit down for breakfast, while I think about where to put my things.

I end up booking a bed at 3 How Hostel, 300 baht a night, not far from Khaosan. Check-in is only at 2 p.m., and it’s 8 a.m. — I wait in the small lounge, making the most of the wifi. Around 9:30, I decide to go out, and run into a local who strikes up a conversation and recommends several places to see. Really nice.

He hails a tuk-tuk and negotiates the price for me: only 40 baht for all these places, a bargain explained by the king’s birthday. Off we go, then, to the Big Buddha, the Lucky Buddha, with a mandatory detour to a suit shop — the driver gets 5 liters of free gas in exchange for this stop. That day, the excitement is total: everyone is wearing a yellow T-shirt for the occasion. The driver finally drops me off near the Grand Palace, where an open-air Thai boxing match is going on, surrounded by food stalls — not a single tourist in sight. I fully enjoy the show, before heading back to the hostel.

A man stops me simply to explain the evening’s program, without ever trying to sell me anything — it feels good. A police officer does the same, telling me there will be free Thai boxing tonight. Warm welcome throughout.

 Then off to the park for the king’s birthday celebrations. I first get stuck a good twenty minutes on a sidewalk — probably the passing of some dignitary. I finally reach the park: surprisingly few tourists, everyone wearing a yellow T-shirt that I, for my part, never managed to find.

I eat on site, then the whole crowd stands up: the national anthem rings out, a magnificent moment by the light of hundreds of candles, followed by fireworks. Truly beautiful to experience.

I then head off to the Thai boxing: a long wait before the first fight, the first two bouts looking more like brawls than anything else, followed by a women’s match and then a fight between teenagers. I don’t stay until the end and head back toward Khaosan.

There, an electric atmosphere: massages, dubious shows, propositions of every kind — a real pandemonium, every bar competing in decibels with its neighbor. It’s precisely at this moment that I congratulate myself for not having taken a room on this street. I finally find a quieter bar, live music, 120 baht a pint of Chang, before going back to the hostel.

After a breakfast included in the price (always nice), off to Chatuchak Market on Elisa’s advice — a city bus ride. The market is absolutely huge! A profusion of clothes for every taste, but also lots of people, locals and tourists mixed together. I buy a T-shirt and a tank top, bargaining of course. Then back to the hostel — I doubt I explored every aisle, but I’ve already seen quite a lot, so never mind, onward.

Once back, I psych myself up to try the Sky Bar (the bar from “The Hangover”), known for its view over all of Bangkok from a rooftop — but pretty pricey. I get dressed decently enough and head out. A tuk-tuk offers me 300 baht, no thanks, goodbye; the taxis are quoting similar rates. I set off on foot. The same tuk-tuk follows me for a while, lowering its price along the way, but I hold firm. With no map on hand, I end up giving up on the idea for today — it’ll be for tomorrow. Instead I head to a quiet bar in Khaosan for a drink, before heading back to the hostel.

I feel a bit queasy this morning — probably an unfresh souvenir of last night’s street food, occupational hazard 😂. I loaf around the hostel until noon, then head to the MBK shopping center by bus. I walk a bit, miss the bus I was aiming for, oh well, take another. Arriving at MBK: an immense mall, five floors, but a mall is still a mall… I still take the chance to buy myself a hat and a beanie, 500 baht for both, before heading to the Lebua Bar.

I struggle a bit to find the right bus, but it works out — it doesn’t drop you off right in front, so a bit of walking is needed. On site: a big, rather empty hall, two or three shops, then off to the elevator, with an impeccable welcome from the ground floor all the way to the top.

At the top, the view is magnificent. I settle at the bar, still warmly welcomed. 400 baht for the Ricard — a price that stings for Thailand, but the setting is well worth it: skyscrapers, river, and a surprising calm for Bangkok. A truly beautiful experience.

I head off, wait a good while for the bus back, without really knowing where to get off — I end up getting off late, but never mind: 17 baht versus the 300 a taxi would have cost for the whole trip. I finally take a taxi for the last stretch, 40 baht to Khaosan Road.

I settle into a bar with a small concert, the same one as the other day — two mojitos, then I switch scenes for a beer elsewhere, before going back to the hostel. I end the evening there, drink in hand, to fully enjoy this last night.

Last day in Thailand, still a bit bloated after the previous day’s excesses. I take my time leaving the hostel, and only get moving around 11:30, heading to Lumpini Park in Bangkok, by local bus. I struggle a bit to find the right stop, but make it: first a meal, not much in the area besides a kind of shopping center — rather good, in the end.

At the park, without the strength to walk all of it with my big pack on my back, I simply settle down on the grass. I take the chance to savor the tranquility of the place, thinking back on this month that just flew by — far too fast for my liking. On my way out, I come across a monitor lizard out of the water, like a final wink from the trip: I had precisely been hoping to spot one before leaving. It slips back into the water, I follow it with my eyes for a moment, then head for the airport by metro.

I arrive well ahead of time, no problem checking in my bags. I take the chance to make one last souvenir purchase: some Tiger Balm. I have just enough left to pay for it, not really enough to eat — oh well, I still have a pack of cookies to hold me over. I connect to the airport wifi to kill the remaining time.

5:50 p.m., boarding. 6:50 p.m., takeoff. That’s it. A month coming to an end, my head full of memories, and lovely encounters that will stay etched in my mind.

Landing around 7 a.m. I managed to sleep a bit on the plane, between two movies. Getting off, I rush to collect my bags — and then, panic: I left my hat on the plane! It’s only a souvenir of little value, bought for next to nothing, but I still care about it a bit. I show my ticket to a woman from security, who kindly agrees to go and get it for me.

Then baggage claim, then the RER (Paris’s commuter train), to plunge back into everyday Parisian life. A brutal thermal shock: about 7°C here, versus 25 to 30°C just the day before. That’s it, Thailand already seems far away. Back to real life.