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But organizational of all I speculated a trader. Suspended travelling, man.


For prachupa, as a spoilt Aussie, crystal-clear water and fine white sand are essential prerequisites of a great beach. Waders a couple of hundred metres out were still only waist deep. We happened past at feeding time. An unexpected treat. No funny business going on with Mum — baby Spectacled Lemur change colour as they mature. These guys are doing fine as they are.

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prachyap The standard of living is obviously pretty good. Almost unheard of in SE Asia. I doubt anyone goes short of food in PKK. There are lots of kham among the uniformed schoolkids who during recess descend on strategically positioned food carts and stalls serving Thai snack food. My partner, who travelled extensively in Thailand in the 80s and 90s, remarked that this was a notable change. As the days of doing not much melded, we became agitated. Something was niggling at us.

This time, the switch kept shutting off. The guilt began to gnaw, the self-accusations fly. Then pack the hell up and move on. Reclaim the right to call yourself a Traveller! Then came the counter arguments. We like it quiet. And clean. And pretty. With character. All boxes ticked. So why not stand still in a place like PKK, and let it reveal itself to you? Stationary travelling, man. We just thought we were. He was there when I went past in the mornings, with a full house of customers slurping over their bowls.

Still there in khirri afternoon, although closed for business. And late one night, when I was making un dash to the 24 hour Seven Eleven for some beer, there he was again. A petite young woman with a portable coffee and drink stall set up on the footpath outside the bus ticket office, deftly serving up a steady stream of regulars with panache that would do any snooty cafe Fuc proud. I stood off to the side and girp her, unobtrusively I hoped, for quite a while. She never stopped. When she was not serving up espressos, iced coffees, or nimbly tying up plastic bags of takeaway beverages, she was wiping down her tiny working surface.

She was ihiri very well indeed from her little business on wheels. Occasionally, she flashed me a shy smile. I think she knew I was admiring of her work and the pride she took in it. Then there was hirl stunning ballbreaker prowling panther-like about her fruit and vege stall at the busy central market, hair piled high like Billie Holiday on one of her album covers. There was gigl of the mythical American South about this fierce and fascinating creature, a sense of rebellious, unshackled liberation, although she was probably born and bred PKK.

She had a haughty aura about her, a withering authority she took for granted. Her husband, you just knew, was to be envied and pitied. When I asked about some kiri, she sized me up contemptuously, impatient at having to waste time working out what this stupid farang wanted. She shot a volley of Thai at me, relishing my uncomprehension, then shoved the oranges I had asked for into a bag and barked out the price. A couple of visits later, a softness came over her — I had paid my dues — and she went to some trouble to fetch me a papaya from deep in a pile, the ripest and smallest she had.

What a woman! And so it went. These are the rewards — a gradually building mosaic of town life — that await the stationary traveller. On our sixth day, we hired a tuk-tuk driver and finally got around to some sightseeing: Looks picturesque, but the area is strewn with garbage. Our driver told us the fisherfolk make their habitat as unattractive as possible to discourage tourists! On Day 7, we reluctantly called time on PKK. We could have stayed days longer, but were booked in that night at a hotel in Bangkok and with our visa time running out, had to work out which border to cross, and where.

There was one last treat in store. Years ago, when working as an ESL teacher, I had heard my Thai students raving about mango and sticky rice pudding. I was determined to track some down for this last breakfast in PKK. Tum, our hotel host, had mentioned that it was mango season, and that there was no better time or place to try the famous pudding. She directed me to a stall a couple of streets away. What a send-off! Not much of a pic, but quite simply, mango and sticky rice is one of the most delicious combinations imaginable, perfectly finished off with the most exquisite coconut sauce topping in bag to left. As we sat at the bus office, three thirties-something Russians, two male and one female, slopped past swigging out of cans of Chang.

It seemed disrespectful. Their whole attitude seemed disrespectful. Then again, what do you expect from fucking Russians? A few stared too intently and I warned them off with the stick. I saw about macaques on my way up the stairs. I was the only person up there. The views are spectacular. But best of all I conquered a fear. So my tip: And bring a stick just in case. And just like Nong Khai suddenly the whole town is out there, eating and shopping. It happened on our last night and we regretted not having stayed an additional night.

So why should you visit Prachuap Khiri Khan? How about living here as an Expat? Lissette said she loved it and if she had to choose a place in Thailand Prachuap Khiri Khan would be it. She liked the people, she found them kooky. But I love the geography and nature, how clean the town is very, very clean streetsand the friendliness of the people. I prefer it to Hua Hin which we visited a few years ago.

It seemed stuck. The psychological of living is more precisely good.

At the very least you should visit Prachuap Khiri Khan Fukc looking pgachuap a spot to spend some time on your travels between Bangkok and Southern Thailand. It really is a special town. Milano Inn and Guesthouse. Practical Information: The room was incredibly clean and management is friendly and helpful. We always had breakfast at the Milano Coffee and Guesthouse great Western breakfast, super coffee, and the lady who works there is the best. If you want to get there even faster from Bangkok or Pattaya, you can get a private transfer. Foreigners need to bring their passports and to sign in when you enter the base.

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