TRAVELANDLEISUREASIA.COM / AUGUST 2019 25
t hroughout w it h contempora r y Tha i a r t. But
whenever I visit, I spend most of my time
sprawled on a shaded day-bed between the two,
rolling in and out of the splash pool.
On my most recent trip, I wanted a change of
pace, so I took a beautiful 25-minute drive from
Pimalai across the sparsely inhabited center of
the island to Koh Lanta’s lesser-known east
coast. Popular myth holds that the island closes
down from May to October because it’s deluged
by torrential rain from the monsoon. Yes, it’s
wetter during the low season, but there’s also
plenty of splendid weather, too: in my five days,
it rained for less than an hour. In fact, Lanta’s
east coast fares better than the rest of the island
during the monsoon, which comes off the sea
from the southwest. A rain shadow is especially
apparent in the island’s southeast corner, which
houses Old Town, an all-but-forgotten port.
Back when fishing boats and small trading
ships from around Asia and the Middle East
sailed their way along the Andaman coast from
Singapore to Moulmein in the Gulf of
Martaban, the sheltered bay here offered the
safest mooring.
Nomadic seafaring Urak Lawoi, so-called
“sea gypsies,” frequented the bay at least 500
years ago, followed 300 years later by Malay
fishermen and Chinese traders, who
established a village along the seafront. For
most of the 20th century, the village served as
Koh Lanta Yai’s district capital. Before
backpackers discovered Lanta in the mid-80s,
the only way to reach the island was via a slow
passenger ferry from Bo Muang pier on the
mainland to the long pier here. The townFROM TOP: Order
stir-fried prawns
and beans at Pinto
restaurant; Old
Town main street.FR
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languished in the shadow of its own history
once ferry services, and the district capital,
moved to Koh Lanta Noi up north in the late
90s. But in the last few years, Old Town has
awakened from its slumber, with a renewed
attention from tourists drawn to its rustic local
charm. “Thai” experiences abound.ARRIVING IN LATE AFTERNOON, I park on Old
Tow n’s ma in street to adm ire t he dozens of
baan yao along the waterfront. Thai for “long
house,” baan yao refers to the local style of
linking several houses together over the sea on
narrow wooden piers that can be extended
further over the tides for each additional
structure. On the inland side of the street, more
common wooden shophouses are built in
“howling dog” form with roofs sloping from
front to back. Among these stands Sam Kong
Ong, a dusty red-painted Hokkien temple
dedicated to Chinese sea gods.
Every year more visitors arrive looking to
spend a few days or weeks in Old Town,
exchanging proximity to a beach for mingling
with the well-integrated community of Thai
Chinese, Thai Muslims and Urak Lawoi, eating
fresh seafood, and just generally enjoying a
spot relatively unspoiled by mass tourism.
My base for exploring is Muchu House
(sweetlifelanta.com; 66-86/843-6204; rooms
from US$16), a fisherman-style longhouse
converted into overnight guest accommodation
by Dutchwoman Maayan and her Thai
husband, Mon. The old pier supports two large
rooms, each with its own rustic bathroom, plus
a simple open-air kitchen between the two, and
a spacious sea-facing verandah furnished with
a pair of well-positioned hammocks blowing in
the breeze. The views of nearby islands are
stupendous, and each night I’m lulled to sleep
by the sound of waves lapping below.