Krabi Town

The limestone pinnacles of Khao Khanap Nam are iconic landmarks of Krabi Town.

My favorite place to experience the essence of Krabi Town is on the terrace of my hotel, looking over the estuary at sunrise. The sun is barely creeping over the mangrove trees, casting an orange hue onto the water. The long-tail boats and boatmen that guide the props are still silhouettes.

Boat traffic is already at a buzz at this early hour, mostly workers crossing the river from Ko Klang. I can see the shanty houses on stilts and business at the pier. A small crowd of Muslims in along-tail boat are coming across to Krabi.

Beyond Ko Klang I can see bulky mountains. Upriver are the mangrove forests and the limestone outcrops of Khao Khanap Nam.

Below is a walkway that hugs the river and is a pleasant place to walk in the morning. It is a place to see families having picnics on the grass, or young boys with their fishing lines cast into the water. Sometimes there are monkeys climbing in trees.

Krabi Town is located some 450 miles south of Bangkok on the Malay Peninsula, at the edge of the Krabi River estuary, and just around the corner from the Andaman Sea. There is a different feel here, a more laid-back feel, and the people (in my opinion) have a different look to them: darker-skinned, less Chinese-Asian, and more Malaysian. There is certainly a larger Muslim population here, but not all are Muslim.

Often, Krabi Town is used as a base, or place to stay while visiting nearby sites such as Railay Beach or Ao Nang in the Krabi Provence. Yet the town has a mood of its own that is refreshing.

Gliding through the mangrove forest.

During our stay, we choose a tour that includes a visit to the mangrove forests. We board a long-tail boat with six other tourists, a boatman, and a guide with long black wavy hair that makes him look like an islander.

With great balance and dexterity, the boatman guides us upriver and into one of the many branches and soon we are surrounded by a canopy of mangrove trees. We are at low-tide, so the roots are exposed and it appears as if the trees are standing tip-toed. The boatman turns off the engine and we glide through an eerie, yet beautiful scene. At the top of the trees a trio of monkeys play Tarzan from one tree to the next.

Navigating further upriver, we arrive near the two limestone outcrops of Khao Khanap Nam that flank each side of the river. The only way to get here is by boat. We walk a short distance along a sandy trail and then up a staircase and enter into a large cave of stalagmites. The air becomes damp and we can hear our echoes when we speak.

Replica of a 43,000 year old skeleton at Khao Khanap Nam.

Display boards tell some of the history of this cave, as well as other caves along the shoreline. Evidence such as skeletons, shells, seeds, and stone tools have been found in this and nearby caves, showing that 27,000 to 43,000 years ago, prehistoric man was living here. These are some of the oldest objects found in southeast Asia.

More recently, during World War II, the Japanese forces entered Krabi Province, and many boats were anchored at Krabi Town. These caves were used as shelters or residence for some of the soldiers.

These weren't the only ancient finds in the area. A fossil, consisting of the right upper jaw with five teeth and the right lower jaw with two teeth, was found at a lignite mine in Krabi Provence. It is believed that the fossil is nearly forty million years old and one of the oldest ancestors of human beings.

One can't help but to notice that Krabi Town is proud of this discovery. A couple of major intersections in town have four hulking sculptures of anthropoid apes above the the traffic lights.

Krabi Town is very laid back. There is no sense of urgency. Sunday morning comes and we find ourselves loitering around town while waiting for our seven island snorkeling tour.

We are hungry and come upon a store-front that has a sign with a breakfast menu. It also advertises fruit shakes and drinks. A small table with chairs is set up in front. Most of the store sells merchandise such as wooden elephants, Buddha statues and the like.

A lady comes and we order our meal using clear and articulated English. I've come to learn that although it seems that everyone in Thailand speaks some English, no one seems to speak it fluently; and especially not the older generation.

I order two fried eggs with toast, and a banana pancake with chocolate syrup. I haven't decided yet if this is what Thai's really eat for breakfast, or if they are just catering to the tourists. Jenelle and I both order a pineapple-mango shake (which is made from 100% fruit; no ice cream, and very delicious).

After ten minutes, she brings out my eggs and toast, Jenelle's breakfast, and one pineapple-mango shake. We finish our entire meal and are still waiting for the rest.  The lady has returned to the back and we can hear clanging metal from the stove, and we linger, hoping that she is finishing our meal. It is not until her son comes out, who speaks slightly better English, that we are able reorder our food to complete our meal.

Five minutes later, one pineapple-mango shake and one large banana pancake with chocolate syrup are brought to our table. We enjoy, but realize that we probably ordered too much!

Southern Thailand's version of the tuk-tuk.  It is a common mode of transportation.

Later on another day, I decide to take a long walk to see how Krabi appears on foot. Jenelle decides to stay in the hotel because it is about a hundred degrees outside and the humidity has us sweating like dogs. (Keep in mind that it is only the month of March!)

I mosey along the walkway that parallels the river, past the boat dock for Railay Beach, past the giant crab statue. It is low-tide now and the river has shrunk in size, with sand bars on both sides. A floating restaurant is resting lop-sided in mud. The twin pinnacles of Khao Khanap Nam are prominently in view.

I cross Utarakit Road and leave the river, and continue several blocks inland away from the hustle and bustle. My first stop is the Andaman Art Museum.

I have no other reason to go here other than to check it out. Before I even walk in the door, a lady stops me and instructs on how to visit the museum. Apparently you start in one building and work your way systematically through several others until you've returned to the gift shop. The first three, she warns, have no air-conditioning. “You keep your shoes on!” she adds with a smile.

The first building is devoted to beads, and the history of beads in Southern Thailand. She's right about the air-conditioning. It feels like a brick oven in here! Sweat is dripping down my cheek.

I am the only person in the “bead room” and each station has an audio recording to teach the visitor. I press the button and a dialog emerges from the speakers in Thai. Luckily, the signs are in both Thai and English.

Can this elaborate style of kite really fly?

Artist's depiction of Khao Khanap Nam at the Andaman Art Museum.

One room that fascinates me is the kite exhibition. These kites are like none other that I've ever seen. They are made with a bamboo frames, are very large with elaborate designs, and sometimes have wooden fish or other trinkets attached to them. Of course I can't touch or lift them up, but I wonder how light they really are. Can they really fly? Is this what the historical kite of Thailand looked like? Or are they just for decoration? (Later I attempt to ask a lady in the gift shop this exact question, and our communication falls dead at the language barrier.)

The final building (and well air-conditioned!) is the art exhibit. This gallery takes up three stories of photographs and paintings, most focused on local genre.

I return to the sultry outside air and walk south on Maharad Road. I go inside a small store and buy a pineapple Fanta for 15 baht. Like all the refrigerated drinks I've had in Thailand, it is only lukewarm. They give me a straw and I sip as I walk.

The songthaew is the form of taxi used in Southern Thailand.

Two lanes of traffic buzz in each direction. There are no tourists here. Locals sit in the doorways and chat in singsong accents.

I pass the intersection with the ape statues. Last night we ate at a noodle stand just around the corner.

Across the street, there is a large block of dense trees with no development. Curiously, I walk toward it and find a stone path that leads into a growth of trees. Soon I am in a jungle, rather than the hubbub of Krabi Town. There are periodic signs along the path, but only in Thai. I would guess that they are identifying the trees.

At length I hear a commotion of laughing and splashing. As I approach, I notice a hidden water hole where boys are swinging off ropes and jumping off trees into the water. I can only catch glimpses as palm fronds and other branches block most of my view.

Pulling out my camera and seeing the opportunity for a good candid picture, I tiptoe diagonally forward for a better view, but my not so stealthy feet crunch the dry ground and quickly, all the laughing and splashing stops, and the boys retreat out of sight.

I wait for thirty seconds, but decide that they will not resume until I'm gone. I begin to walk away when one of the boys swims out into the open, looks at me and yells out, “No, no!” in meager English. Again, he yells out, “No, no!” and holds up two hands to form a box. He is telling me to take no pictures. I humbly comply and walk away.

Wat Kaew Korawaram in Krabi Town.

I follow the stone path back to civilization and continue around the corner to the base of Wat Kaew Korawaram, the main Buddhist temple in Krabi Town. The temple is a beautiful white building perched on a hill, with a naga staircase leading up the hill. (I learned that a naga is a diety in the form of a great snake, originating from the Sanskrit word for cobra.)

A rooster ambles around the grounds, while a gardener cares for flowers. I remove my shoes and step inside the main hall where I reverently admire the mural on the wall and the statue of Buddha. Offerings of fruit and flowers have been placed at the foot of the shrine. An Asian family is in the room also and they huddle together for a family picture with the Buddha in the background.

My favorite time in Krabi Town is at night. This is when the sleepy city comes alive.

We have counted three different night markets here: one on the weekend, one during the week, and the smallest one, Chao Fa, is every night.

As with most markets in Thailand, you can find about anything: clothing, crafts, sarongs, plants, and of course, food—and lots of it! It is here that we tried coconut ice cream and purple sticky rice rolled in a banana leaf and grilled over coals.

For many of the vendors at the market, this is a family affair. Every night we saw a group of children (probably siblings) who played percussion instruments for money. They sat huddled together in the middle of the crowded market, and on a signal from an adult, they began pounding away and producing very good music.

Another little girl at the end of the street dressed in a costume that I believe comes from the hill tribes, and posed and stretched and contorted in aerobatic positions, of course with a coin bucket in front of her. On the following night a different girl with an identical costume, similar-looking face, but just a couple years older, performed at the same location. They were obviously sisters making money for Mom and Dad.

The spiny "jackfruit" has a yellow interior.

Tonight we opt for the smaller market of Chao Fa, which is right next to the river and much more relaxed. Here the vendors have set up their carts along the street and sell everything from noodles to fish. Ladies stand next to propane stoves and stir up dishes in a wok. Although night has taken the edge from the heat, the humid air still permeates everything.

I order a bowl of tom yum goong with a small plate of rice and we sit at a plastic table behind the cart where we took our order. I don' know how to eat this dish, so I do what I think the Thai's would do and spice it up with Nam Phrik Pla, a condiment consisting of chili peppers and fish sauce. I'm not sure if that was the smartest idea because now I am sweating profusely and using up all the tiny toilet paper tissues that they call napkins to wipe my nose.

This soup is packed with flavor, blending the spicy with the sour. The giant prawns I break open with my spoon and fingers, but within the strong broth there are also a mixture of other herbs, all of which I can't see because it is night, but all consisting of a fibrous texture, very tough to chew, almost like eating bark. One of them, I'm sure, is a kaffir lime leaf. The others feel like twigs and orange peels. I don't know if I am supposed to eat them, or spit them out and set aside. I do a little of both, surely getting my daily dose of fiber.

Next, we buy from other booths: mango and sticky rice, chicken satay, lotus and beetroot juice. At a booth near the end of the market I order some squid and they grill, slice, and bag it for me, and give me a skewer and a little bag of hot sauce. Jenelle and I sit down to another plastic table and I eat the squid while she nibbles a plate of pad thai. The squid is semi-tender and the spicy sauce has quite an earthy taste.

Jenelle packs the rest of her pad thai into a styrofoam box and we make the slow stroll along the river back to our hotel. Street lamps illuminate the walkway. A group of boys sit along the sidewalk, their feet dangling over the water, and their poles cast into the river. A gibbous moon shines a reflection over the dark body of water and somewhere out of sight I can hear the engine of a long-tail boat.

At our hotel we climb four stories of stairs to our room where we dump off our packs, and then climb another story to the terrace. 

We have it to ourselves. A soft lunar light reveals the tops of the mangrove trees on the other side of the river near Ko Klang. We lounge in plastic chairs and enjoy a subtle breeze as we nibble the sticky rice and mangos. ♠