Khao Lak

 We've made good our escape and are now 190km down the coast in Khao Lak. 

We've settled into our jungle bungalow/ little red shack with only a minor annoyance from a burly Russian who initially refused to leave our shack.  ( This need to annex things must be bred into them...)

Finally, realising that he was no match for a couple of plucky Brits (veterans of Chumphon and Ranong), he gave way and ambled off like a disgruntled bear.

The disputed territory.

Khao Lak is a busy old place, most of the action (and there's a lot of it) taking place on either side of the sometimes busy Highway 4.

JB rather hopefully referred to it as a strip town, but as regular readers will know, I am under an injunction not to remove my clothing in public, so that put a stop to any of his  shenanigans.

There are lots of tour operators in town, all offering variations on a couple of themes: 

Diving/snorkelling, or Bamboo rafting and feeding some bananas to an elephant.

The diving trip was in excess of £130, and as you're no doubt aware, I don't dive and JB won't pay that much.

To our complete amazement, the rafting trip to an elephant Sanctuary in order to stuff the pachyderms with bananas was around £100 . Each.

What a swizz! Firstly, during our last attempt at bamboo rafting, the raft fell apart and JB got his foot stuck in the hole.

And secondly, the world and his wife know that elephants prefer buns.

We went instead to the local beach and had a perfectly lovely (rafting and elephant free) day.