We’ve been looking forward to enjoying southern Thailand and its beaches ever since we first began planning this trip. We envisioned climbing its limestone cliffs during the day and spending relaxing evenings writing and reading on its beaches. We wanted to swim in the warm waters of the Andaman Sea and watch monkeys play in the jungle trees. All from a beach bungalow hut - you know, the ones so often highlighted in our Instagram feeds. And I (Brad) intended to do so as cheaply as possible. 

Our first destination in Southern Thailand was a small village in Krabi called Tonsai, which is only accessible by longboat. Tonsai is known for its laid back secluded atmosphere, beautiful beachfront, and its climbing scene. The small bay is guarded on all sides by steep, overhanging 500 foot limestone cliffs. It’s like Avatar meets Jurassic Park. Truly amazing. 

From the beach, a five minute walk inland leads you to the heart of the eccentric bungalow village which attracts hippy locals, vagabonding climbers, broke artists, and penny pinching backpackers. It’s not a typical honeymoon destination. Instead of plush resorts there are a handful of very basic $10 to $15/night “jungle huts” to choose from. And each “resort” if you can call it that, has an adjoining laundry, mini mart, restaurant, and coffee bar. 

The village also offers a handful of eclectic “bars” (open air huts constructed with bamboo and palm leaves - more emphasis given to their neon light placement than to their structural soundness). Each advertises “Magic Mushroom Shakes” and other drugs are just as easy to come by. Bob Marley is always playing. Nightly entertainment includes fire and light shows, slack lines, and live DJs. The entertainers are also the bartenders and by day they serve as landscapers and hut handymen. The “resort” staff is like a small family and everyone chips in. 

Stray cats, chickens, lizards, and monkeys outnumber humans in Tonsai. Shirts are rarely worn.  Bugs are everywhere - mosquitoes, beetles, caterpillars, spiders, weird ones of all varieties, colors, and sizes. Poisonous snakes occasionally slither into bars at night only to be hammered by the bartenders shoe. The scene is anything but normal. So very fitting for us at the moment.  

As one staff member from the Chill Out Bungalows described it to me, “It’s not big here but we have everything you’ll need.” And we found that generally to be true…

In my mind, we didn’t need power all day - power in Tonsai is generator fueled so bargain places only turn it on in the evenings. We didn’t need air-conditioning because the rickety old oscillating fan in the corner seemed to be up for the job. We didn’t need a proper flush toilet (the hut toilets were referred to as gravity flush, which involves dropping a bucket of water in the bowl to chase down your business). We certainly didn’t need daily room cleaning. We’re both tall so we could easily step over that highway of ants crossing our bathroom floor. And I’m pretty sure, like at least 70 percent, that the termites we heard throughout the night eating away at our hut walls and those unknown rodents scurrying underneath the floorboards were all outside. At $12 a night it was inexpensive but I wouldn't exactly call it a "deal."

But who cares about the the lodging?

We were in Tonsai for its beaches, the climbing, and to experience Thailand. You can’t do that from the partitioned off confines of a plush mega resort. And how much time were we going to spend in the hut anyway? Life in Tonsai tended to be rustic, basic, cheap, and simple - and for the first couple days it was.

Our biggest challenge, if we can call it that, was attempting to keep ourselves and our stuff dry. 

Between the heat, humidity, daily rain showers, and ocean soaks, that was actually more daunting than it sounds. After only a couple days our climbing harnesses developed horrible smells from the steady wetness that I won't even begin to describe. 

There was also the ongoing sunscreen and bug spray applications. A sticky shine coated our bodies day and night. And our sandals, always damp and sand covered, began to wear raw spots into the sides of our feet. After only a couple days, the raw spots turned into full-on open wounds, which seemed to be yet another attention getter for those f***ing bugs, as if they weren’t annoying enough.

These discomforts began to add up - even for cheap me. Instead of joking about the stray cats that had decided to make their litter box on our front porch, I began to plot strategies against them. Our moods started to sour. And a big part of the mood shift was due to the futile effort in this environment to stay dry or feel clean or get comfortable.

Despite the growing discomforts, it was cheap so we remained at the bungalow hut. The straw that finally broke my back was getting sick. 

It started by feeling a little weak and shaky one afternoon. As the hours ticked by it got progressively worse. I stumbled back to our bed and laid motionless under the bug net. Keep in mind that the oscillating fan didn’t work yet because there’s no power until 6PM. But instead of sweating uncontrollably in the 90 degree humid temperatures, I covered myself in dry clothes and sleeping bag liners, anything that would make me feel warm. And I still shivered. I didn’t have the energy to get up to go to the bathroom. I didn’t have energy to eat or drink. McKenzie would come in to check on me every 20 minutes, running back and forth to the wifi to consult with my sister, a doctor in Colorado. It had to be a scary for her to watch as my pale (even paler than normal), and thin (also more so than normal from our Nepal adventure) self go from bad to worse underneath some bug net in this electricity-less hut 8,000 miles from home. And the nearest medical care is a boat ride away. Many Tylenols later, my fever subsided and I started feeling better. We’re still not sure what caused it, but, thankfully I was completely recovered in 24 hours. 

Our “travel funk” was almost as short lived. The next day we upgraded to a $30 a night hotel room, equipped with air-conditioning, mechanical toilet and proper shower. This made my wife very happy. Also, our good friends Jon and Brooke arrived from Colorado. We were so eager to see familiar faces that we probably borderline suffocated them over their visit. Tonsai returned from a hot, humid, and buggy jungle back into an island paradise.

We continued to climb, rented kayaks for a day, traveled to Ko Phi Phi, drank vodka buckets and watched tourist bar fighting matches (believe it or not this is an organized affair in Thailand), and went to Phuket to live the resort life for few days. 

As this trip progresses I’m coming to grips that we’re not as capable of living as cheaply in our 30s as we might have been in our 20s. I’m also coming to grips with loosening our steadfast travel budget. And I think we’re both getting better at knowing that even when things seem shitty, the next new sight or experience is right around the corner. 

-Brad