I've lost all sense of time. I know it's still January, and I think it may be Saturday, but honestly, I'm not so sure. So I think is was probably early last week that I learned that monkeys in Thailand can swim, and that the Thai people make absolutely to-die-for fruit shakes. But let me back up a bit. I learned these two fascinating pieces of information in Khao Sok National Park, which is where Jen, Kathy and I lazed about for four days last week. About a 3 hour drive north of Phuket, Khao Sok National Park is quite a breath-taking part of the rainforest, featuring a range of limestone mountains, lazy, winding rivers and some gorgeous lakes. We booked this trip before we left home, lured in by the promise of a two night stay in a a tree house. I mean, how can that be resisted? Clearly it could not. We arrived at Art's Riverview Lodge on the edge of the national part in time for lunch on the first day. A few people have asked how the food is here. It is unbelievably fantastic - the Thai food that is. But they do weird things to sandwiches, as I learned from the tuna sandwich I ordered. So the lesson is, stick to the Thai food - order Western, and you will be disappointed. (Though this all makes sense - I don't care what they think, pubs in Toronto likewise do not do Thai food well). Okay, digression.
Upon checking in, the boy at the counter told us we were very lucky because our tree house was only one month old and featured a very romantic outdoor bathroom. Having see a few outdoor toilets in Thailand, all of which were pretty much the furthest you can get from being romantic and still be on the same planet, we were skeptical. But the kid knew what he was talking about - it was a toilet paradise. The backend of our tree house opened onto an open-air (walls, no ceiling) posh bathroom with a waterfall cascading shower, and stone floor. This bathroom is the reason why I need to move somewhere with a tropical climate - so I can have an outdoor bathroom that would instill jealousy in all who were lucky enough to use it.
Aside from revelling in the magic that was our bathroom, we spent two very lazy afternoons on the river, winding amongst the limestone cliffs, the first being chaffeured about in a canoe (a guide sat in the back and did all the work) and the second, floating down the same river in an innertube. While I hestitate to call these 'activities', as I failed to break a sweat, after these activities we would retire to the lodge's deck, partake of fruit shakes, and watch the monkey's 5:00 show. The lodge's restaurant looks out onto the Monkey Waterhole, and without fail, every afternoon around 5 a band of macau monkeys emerged from the hills and proceeded to entertain the tourists - they'd climb all over anyone who wanted to get up close and personal, they play fought, chasing eachother up and down trees and over the limestone rocks that led down to the waterhole. And, much to our surprise, they also swam. (Now I can't quite see them signing up to swim the Thai equivalent of swimming across Lake Ontario, but is was very cool to see.) And, if you're not careful, they also made heir way over to the restaurant and tried to steal any food they could get their paws on. I kept my own paws firmly gripped on my watermelon shake, just to be safe. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to recreate the magic when I get home, but I'm going to unpack my blender and try really hard.
On the third morning we were picked up by our driver (one of the few larger Thai men we've come across who continually seemed to have the munchies) and Deng, our guide for the next day and half. We didn't actually realize that we were going to have a guide, so it was a little shocking for him to suddenly be all guide-like and continually feeding us with facts about the national park while I was trying to sleep. Our destination, Chieow Lake, was created by the installation of a dam some 30 years ago. Arriving at the lake after an hour of guide-talk, we piled onto the longtail boat for a scenic ride on the lake. A longtail boat is sort of like a really long row boat, and they seem to take the motors out of cars or trucks and strap them on the back. They also feature really long things that I would call a propeller, but I have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about. The lake is surrounded by the limestone mountain range, highly scenic, so Kathy took a bezillion photos. After about an hour of sightseeing we finally arrived at our home for the next 24 hours - a series of floating bamboo huts, interconnected by docks. The huts and an accompanying restaurant, stretched from one small island and another. The huts featured a mattress, mosquito net and a small amount of floor space on the inside, and a tiny front porch that let out to the dock. In between the bamboo slats that made up the floor you could see, well, water. And when anyone in a neighboring hut moved around, the whole structure squeaked something awful. (No nocturnal washroom breaks without half the residents knowing it!) There was a generator that was powered up during mealtimes and for a few hours in the evening, but otherwise there wasn't any power. Feeling like complete sloths after 2 days of fruit shakes and floating down rivers, Jen and I went for a quick kayak tour before lunch. In the afternoon we took a longtail boat to a nearby shore, hiked up and down a pretty tame hill and ended up at another natural lake, 500 Rei Inside Lake. I'm not really sure why, but I really like the name of this lake, though its name is completely practical and unimaginative. Apparently 'rei' is some sort of measurement that reflects the size of the lake - I can't now recall the specifics. Anyway, we took a motorized bamboo raft (yes, very cool) to a cave and toured limestone rock formations, which were bizarre looking and interesting. If any of you remember a news story from last summer, it was in a cave in this same national park that 8 people drowned during a flood in the rainy season. Since this accident the government has decided to close the caves during the rainy season.
Moving on to happier subjects - the restaurant sold overpriced bottles of Australian wine, so Jen and I enjoyed splitting one over a fantastic dinner. We cut ourselves off after one, partially because we were cheap, but more importantly, who wants to be the idiot who stumbles in a drunken stupor off the dock, and into the lake? Over dinner our neighbours from a couple huts down told us about the monkeys that run from rooftop to rooftop at night, and who also had attempted to get into their chocolate the night before - they'd apparently found what they interpreted to be paw scratches on their chocolate wrappers the next morning. They also mentioned in passing, just before Jen and I wandered back to our romantic hut, that there were rats that came out at night. Having lived through my mouse problem a couple years ago and being somewhat scarred by the ordeal, I was suspicious that it had been monkeys that had been scratching at the chocolate. Needless to say, falling asleep was problematic. I try to keep my knowledge of rats at bare minimum, but I do remember from history class and lessons about the plague, that the bastards swim. And we were on a freaking lake, with just a thin layer of bamboo between me and them! I did not sleep well. I periodically awoke to Jen spraying herself with bug spray. I mean, that's saying something if you're happy to sleep with a bottle of Deet clutched in your hand! I also awoke frequently, as I could feel something crawling on me.
Dramatic pause.
Not rats thankfully. Tiny, obnoxious ants though seemed to be more at home in the hut then Jen and I. I did at times hear the squeak and rustle of what sounded like either rats or monkeys nearby. And visits to the toilet on the island were seriously spooky in the pitch black. Jen told me the next morning that as she'd been on the way to the toilet in the middle of the night, just beyond the light of her flashlight she'd heard tiny scurrying feet and a splash as something launched its body off the dock and into the lake. Now, that could have been a monkey, and just a day earlier we'd seen evidence that some monkeys do swim, but I seriously doubt it. Over breakfast our chocolate-hoarding neighbours admitted that they'd awoken in the middle of the night to see a rat scurrying across the ceiling beam in their hut.
I still cling to the idea that it was just Jen, the ants and I in our cozy little hut and prefer not to think more deeply on the subject.
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