We’ve written many posts about Thailand describing reckless overdevelopment, pollution, instability and a host of other problems. After reading some of these descriptions, our readers might be wondering if Thailand is still worth it? It’s a legitimate question, especially for serious travelers.

The reality is that Thailand gained its reputation as an off-the-beaten track destination decades ago, famous for pristine beaches, authentic tribal culture and fascinating Buddhist heritage.

But during the last twenty years, Thailand has modernized and developed much faster than anyone could have imagined. While this modernization has brought about vast improvements in infrastructure and advanced the standard of living for the people of Thailand, it has also impacted the flavor of the country in many ways. But is the new Thailand just as enjoyable?

The answer to that question depends on what you are looking for. Many of the northern tribes have undergone tremendous change, in the process losing much of the tradition which originally attracted outsiders. Air pollution and mountains of plastic trash plague many areas. And many of those once pristine beaches have been developed to the point of absurdity. (There is a reason we did not visit world-famous Koh Phi Phi. In 1991, when I saw the direction development was heading, I swore I would never return.)

Despite these changes and the fact that Thailand now receives more than 18 million visitors a year, the country continues to market itself very much as it did when I first visited. Current brochures are full of pictures of perfect beaches, tribal markets, and child monks, which were all clearly taken decades ago. Travelers are often shocked to discover that that empty beach in the photo now looks like the Las Vegas strip. Visitors expecting the Thailand of the ’70s, ’80s, and early ’90s will certainly be disappointed. But is Thailand still worth it?

In our minds the answer is a resounding “yes.” There is a reason why we have spent more than 9 months here during the last two years. (Wow, I just counted that out – 9 months!)

Clearly, we enjoyed the country. But in our minds, the attractions are very different now than they were two decades ago.

Our first reason for coming to Thailand is Bangkok, which now consistently ranks in the top ten most visited cities in the world. Although it still suffers from a sleazy reputation and associations with sex tourism and crime, Bangkok has grown into a highly enjoyable city with modern conveniences, boundless attractions and some of the best food in Southeast Asia. It’s not an immediately accessible city, it takes time to get your bearings. But we would easily rank Bangkok as one of the most interesting and enjoyable cities we have ever visited. In another decade or two, this will be the Southeast Asian version of Tokyo. (Although we’re keeping our eyes on Saigon.)

Beyond Bangkok, the people of Thailand are a huge part of our attraction to this country. Thais are certainly one of the most open and welcoming nationalities in Asia if not the world. However, visitors who limit themselves to the tourist trail here in Thailand may not ever experience that openness and hospitality for themselves. As in most of the world, the tourist trail tends to attract locals looking to take advantage of disoriented visitors.

For that reason, we often most enjoyed the mid-sized towns and rural areas of Thailand. No real tourist focus was necessary for us. And for some peculiar reason, these less visited areas seemed to have the best food. Trang, a town viewed as a mere transit point by most guidebooks, has one of the best night markets in Thailand as well as the best roti canai in the entire world. (Well, at least to me.)

As for beaches, we clearly still found a few remaining pieces of paradise. But it’s important to realize that both coasts are firmly on the beaten track and mass tourism is solidly established making southern Thailand one of the most visited beach destinations in the world. Natural areas situated away from the coast, on the other hand, offer unlimited potential for off-the-beaten-track exploration.

And although Thailand’s national park system suffers from many problems, it is indisputably the most well-developed, accessible, and affordable national park system in all of Southeast Asia. It’s also, quite mysteriously, usually overlooked by most tourists. I cross my fingers that the Thai government will eventually come to understand the enormous value of this national treasure and improve protections for these natural areas.

For Thomas and me, Thailand it still very worth it. But prospective visitors need to ask themselves what they expect to find here and whether or not those are realistic expectations in the 21st century.

We would love to hear other travelers’ opinions on this subject.

Some scenes in the video are well known destinations while others are isolated beaches we discovered while water-hiking. It’s all part of our ongoing quest to find the perfect beach.

Although Tony mentioned growing conservatism among Muslim minorities in Southern Thailand in Burkas and the Art of Roti Canai, there’s obviously another side to the story. Young girls are still young girls, with or without headscarves. These girls were especially outgoing, stopping us to take our picture on Koh Tarutao. When we asked to take their photo, the girls struck a pose. Let’s just say there was a lot of giggling, and not just from us.

On our previous visit to Koh Adang, Tony came across a beautiful stretch of white-sand beach while water-hiking. (Clearly, he was ignoring rule No. 2 in our last post.) He couldn’t wait to go back and show me his discovery. Twenty minutes of walking and twenty five minutes of swimming took us to what he had perceived as paradise. As we climbed out of the water onto the beach, we found ourselves standing on a once stunning stretch of white-powder sand covered in garbage. How could this be?

Well, out here on the islands, trash is either burnt or gathered up on boats and transported to the mainland. Sometimes, when the waves get a little cranky, these garbage bags find their way back into the sea and eventually onto the shore. On other occasions, locals taking a shortcut just dump bags of trash directly into the ocean. You would think the park staff would clean up these trash spills immediately. But as we mentioned before, the workers in Koh Tarutao National Park are extremely lazy. Of course – why keep the garbage off the beaches when you can sit under a tree and play cards with your friends. Exactly what are park entry fees for?

At first, we sat helplessly staring at the devastated stretch of beach. I wanted to leave, but Tony just stood there shaking his head.

“Can’t they leave anything alone? Do they have to destroy everything?” he yelled. He flopped down on the sand and eyed the filth. Suddenly, he jumped up and announced, “I’m going to clean it all up.”

He picked up a plastic bag half buried in the sand and started stuffing trash into it. I walked down the beach and started cleaning up from that end. There we were in the midday sun picking up trash – not really the best way to enjoy Thailand. We found everything from lighters, rice bags and pieces of fishing line to apple cores, light bulbs and Styrofoam cups. Amazingly, the clean-up didn’t take long.

After only an hour, we had removed all of the garbage and moved it to the back away from the surf. The beach looked fantastic. Unfortunately, we simply didn’t have the ability to swim back out carrying several large bags of trash. Theoretically, the park staff will discover the trash while patrolling the beaches and permanently remove it. Theoretically.

But if Thais don’t feel they need to clean up the coastline, maybe it’s time for us visitors to grab a bag and start cleaning it up for ourselves. If you decide to clean up a stretch of beach, let us know about it here.

It’s no secret that we love nature. And if you haven’t figured it out by now, we aren’t huge fans of crowds of tourists lying on our beaches. (We’ve said it before, we’re beach snobs.)

But our pictorials and videos from Goa to Palawan often show stunning, empty beaches completely devoid of much of the overdevelopment we complain about ad nauseum. Where are we getting these pictures?

On occasion, we are able to rent sea kayaks to get off the beaten track. But more commonly, we must resort to what we have come to call “water-hiking.” We often pack our beach sarongs and our smaller camera into a lightweight, good-quality Sea to Summit waterproof bag and put that into one of the low-cost, heavier Asian knock-off waterproof bags available everywhere and start exploring the coasts.

Walking through dense jungle without a good trail system is painful; thorns, vines, leeches, and pterodactyl-sized bugs don’t make it easy. This creates nice barriers between more populated beaches and small isolated beaches situated along undeveloped coastal areas. So if jungle trails start to disappear and rocky coasts become impassable, we dive into the water and start swimming.

Sometimes, we are out for an entire day working our way miles up the coast. On occasion, it is a lot of work for nothing. At other times, we hit the jackpot. No risk, no reward.

For us, water-hiking has become a favorite sport. But before you dive in and begin your water-hiking adventure, you need to keep a couple of things in mind.

Ten Tips for Water Hikers

1. You need to be a strong swimmer and you need to be comfortable in the water. Very comfortable. Know how to deal with riptides and never try to swim across a channel unless you are 100 percent sure of what the currents are doing. You really don’t want to get swept out to sea.

2. Always water-hike with a buddy.

3. Always water-hike with a snorkel and mask and avoid water-hiking through areas with unclear water. You need to be able to avoid potential dangers such as sea urchins, coral, sea snakes, and dangerous fish, such as lionfish, stonefish, and scorpionfish. Snorkeling also makes long swims much more enjoyable.

4. Make sure that there are no serious wildlife dangers where you are water-hiking, such as salt-water crocodiles, major shark problems, box jellyfish etc. You should approach regions such as southern Indonesia, northern Australia, Madagascar, etc. with caution. It’s always best to ask locals. Also watch out for jellyfish blooms.

5. In the developing world, many inaccessible areas can be associated with illegal activities. Make sure you don’t stumble upon drug runners, poachers, etc. Again, ask locals.

6. Take lots of drinking water with you. You’ll need it.

7. Take some emergency money with you in case you need/want to hire a boat to bring you back.

8. Wear waterproof shoes such as Tevas or Chacos for climbing in and out of the water along rocky coasts where bits of coral, barnacles, and urchins can be a problem.

9. Use a good waterproof sunblock and make sure you reapply block frequently while hiking. Sun in the tropics is a BIG issue. We use SPF 50 for everything. Lots of SPF 50. In addition, we usually use swimming shirts while snorkeling. Even with these precautions, we still get way too much sun.

10. Swim with a waterproof bag to hold your things. A more solid bag can also be used as a floatation device should you get caught in a riptide or swept away from the coast.

Well, they’re not lemurs and they can’t really fly, but they definitely are awesome! After almost two years in Southeast Asia, we’ve finally spotted two – count ‘em two – Sunda flying lemurs here on Koh Adang. The amazing gliding mammals swooped down in front of us and landed on a tree not far from our bungalow. Their highly unusual gliding skills are a site to behold – almost worth the two-year wait.

We know the brainiacs who visit our site need more info on these unusual creatures, so here is a link to the appropriate Wikipedia article as well as a short BBC clip below. Watch them fly – it’s weird and wonderful!

This time, we went to Koh Adang, an island we explored on our previous visit, but didn’t write about. One of the island’s most intriguing features WAS a beautiful sandspit that had formed near the park’s visitor center. This amazing formation not only created an idyllic, protected pool of turquoise water, but the sand was so steep that you could literally jump off the beach into several meters of water. Fantastic.

I wrote “WAS” because the sandspit has been destroyed by the storms and rough seas that swept across Thailand over the last couple of months. BUMMER. Well, that’s nature for you. I guess we’ll have to content ourselves with beautiful beaches, lush jungle, and technicolor sunsets, instead.

For visitors thinking of going to Koh Adang now, this visit took place before the park closed on May 15, 2011. Koh Tarutao National Park will reopen after the rainy season in November.

Twenty years ago, the markets of southern Thailand and Malaysia were visually stunning events marked by the colorful silk robes and wispy conical headscarves worn by ethnic Malay women. Eye-popping floral prints and soothing pastels greeted visitors as did the hospitable smiles of chatty sales women. But not-so-subtle changes reveal the allure and the sway of more fundamental Arab influences on the once moderate Islam of Southeast Asia.

Increasingly, we are seeing fully veiled women, and much of the colorful clothing has been replaced with solemn shades of black and grey. Equally noticeable is the more conservative behavior of these women. Interestingly, outside of conservative Aceh in northern Sumatra, this kind of clothing was virtually absent the first time I came to Southeast Asia in 1990. The visible shift in style along with references such as this disturbing menu in Penang can leave visitors somewhat uneasy.

For Thomas and me, these shifts can be unsettling for various reasons, most importantly some residual fears after being caught up in the attack on Mumbai. More severe Islamic clothing still sends a shiver down my spine, whether it’s fair or not. Muslim friends we meet along the way assure us that clothes are  just clothes. On several occasions, I have heard Muslim men swoon with memories of their veiled mothers cooking delicious meals for them as a child. These recollections have been completely incomprehensible to me… until now.

Entering the small restaurant in Trang town, we were greeted by a young woman wearing typical, colorful Malay garb, but when we tried to order in English, she ran into the back and brought out another woman dressed in somber black and completely veiled with the exception of a narrow slit revealing her eyes. Interestingly, many in Southeast Asia incorrectly refer to this kind of clothing as a burka. In reality, what the woman was wearing is called a niqab; burkas are full length veils which cover the entire body. For some reason, this misnomer disturbed me as well: it was as if the people were trying to wear the most extreme clothing they could find, but got it slightly wrong.

The woman in black approached nervously gaining the courage to take my order in English.

“What would you like to eat?” she blurted out excitedly, I could tell her cheeks had bounced into a nervous smile under the veil, her happy eyes stared down at me waiting for an answer. She looked exactly like Kathy Najimy in Sister Act – with a veil. I immediately liked her.

We both ordered roti canai, a simple pancake-like bread served with a side of curry. She hurried over to the outdoor kitchen and immediately began preparing the dish.

Rather than rushing out an order of cookie-cutter rotis, it was immediately clear that this woman was preparing something special. She took a small ball of dough and massaged it with oil working it into a thin, tortilla-like shape. Suddenly, she pulled up the tortilla and whirled it around slapping it on the counter thereby stretching the tortilla into a miraculously paper-thin sheet. It was spectacular.

Just as the roti thinned to the point of ripping, she gathered the whole thing up into a wrinkly mass and bunched it loosely back into a ball. That was a lot of work for nothing, I thought to myself. But oh, was I wrong.

The woman in black loosely reflattened the ball into another tortilla shape leaving the veins and folds within the dough. She threw a spoonful of something spectacularly orange on the grill and fried the roti until it was irresistibly crispy. (I was literally drooling at this point.) Removing the roti from the grill, she dabbed away excess oil and then, completely unexpectedly, she started crushing the roti into bits. What was she doing?

Repeating the process four more times, she created two piles of crispy, crushed roti. She added a side of curry and presented us with the masterpieces.

Oh my god, there is food – and there is art. I promise everyone reading this that nothing served in any Michelin rated three-star restaurant would ever make me as happy as that roti canai. The curry was a savory, scented stew of sweet potato, chicken, carrot and cassava. Did I taste cinnamon in there? The flaky roti was so delicious that I thought either Thomas or I would literally break into tears. Thomas commented, with stuffed mouth, that the roti tasted remarkably like a dish his grandmother used to make.

Day after day, we went back to the woman in black to indulge in her supremely awesome roti canai and every day she greeted us with happy eyes and plates full of flaky goodness… until one day, she wasn’t there.

Oh my god, where was the woman in black? Who would fill our stomachs with the world’s greatest roti canai? We were told to come back the next day – it was an agonizing 24 hours. Where was she? Would she be back?

And surely enough, the very next day she was back ready to whip up our favorite dish with a mouth-watering side of curry. I was elated. And suddenly, I understood the feeling that those Muslim men had been trying to convey to us, and a little bit of my fear faded and was replaced with appreciation. The art of roti canai just might change the world.

If you would like to try this lady’s roti canai for yourself, her restaurant is just opposite Andaman Islands Tour and Travel near the train station in Trang. The restaurant sign is not written in English.

I love Buddhist hell. Well, at least from an outsider’s perspective. Depictions of people being tortured in the afterlife are goriest, sickest and most twisted in the Buddhist faith. You do have to wonder what convoluted minds come up with this stuff.

While in Phang Nga town, we visited Tapan Cave (also called Heaven and Hell Cave) and the associated Wat Tapan. Expecting a golden Thai temple, we quickly found ourselves amidst life-size demons savagely punishing Buddhist wrong-doers. We had obviously arrived in hell.

We were lost in a forest of screaming people impaled through every imaginable orifice. Decapitation, flogging, lynching – you name it, they depict it. Karma seemed to literally have come back to bite some people on the ass (and sometimes even on the boob).

Ripped-out tongues and eyeballs seemed like minor injuries compared to some of the bloody scenes. Body parts were hacked off with axes, intestines were generously thrown about, and whole bodies were actually being put through the spiked wringer. The monks even had the humor to depict the squished bodies coming out the other side with waffle-like indentations. Damn, if that life-sized diorama doesn’t keep you on the right path, what will?

Moving past the forest of tortured souls, we descended the slippery slopes (bat guano) into the depths of hell itself, the Tapan Cave, a location for monks to meditate on the evils of worldly existence. Unlike Christian hell, naraka or Buddhist hell is only a temporary place from which the tortured can move on to a higher (and friendlier) realm. Luckily, tourists can escape such horrors even faster. From the Tapan Cave, they can bypass hell by way of a dragon bridge and pop out the dragon’s mouth near heaven.

Heaven starts with a large cliff face featuring a collection of different gods including, most prominently, a comic-book Shiva. Further in, a rather cool Buddha emanates a web of strings which represent the ties uniting all living beings. All very cool, but hell was definitely a bigger kick.

Almost as great as hell itself was watching Western visitors’ reactions. Most tourists were quite disturbed by what they perceived to be very un-Buddhist cement kitsch. Tony and I, on the other hand, love stuff like this. In fact, we have gathered quite a collection of Buddhist hell depictions. Check out these past postings to see some more of the Buddhist underworld: Buddha Park Xieng Khuan in Laos, giant Buddha Bodhi Tataung in Myanmar, and the White Temple in Thailand.

Now more commonly known as James Bond Island, the stunning piece of karst eye candy is the withering centerpiece of struggling Phang Nga National Park.

Yes, little James Bond Island just might be the worst tourist trap in all of Thailand these days, but it wasn’t always so. When I first visited in 1990, it was a beautiful island with visions of Britt Ekland running barefoot across the sands. I liked it so much, I returned in 1991 for a second visit.

But almost exactly twenty years after my second visit, James Bond Island is clearly past its prime. Rows of tourist crap stalls and crowds of people mar the beauty of this once idyllic natural location. Surely, 90 percent of the young flashpackers and Chinese package tourists who swarm the island have never seen The Man with the Golden Gun and therefore have no reason to visit this island over any of the others. Simply too many people. But this problem is not unique to little Koh Ping Kan.

Portions of Phang Nga National Park are overwhelmed with buzzing longtails, swirling vortexes of trash dumped into the sea, and motorized tourist barges geared towards huge groups of Asian tourists. (Some of the boats are ridiculously large.) Phang Nga has several very obvious problems and the Thai government needs to realize that there are limits to how much nature can withstand. I know I sound like a broken record here, but there is no denying that many Asian governments are running their national treasures into the ground to make an easy buck.

That said, a well focused mind with blinders on should be able to see past the hordes and the trash to the endless maze of waterways winding in and out of the mangroves and the spectacular vertical islands of karst. Despite human impact, Phang Nga Bay remains one of nature’s masterpieces.  In addition, intriguing ancient cave paintings add a touch of mystique to the breath-taking landscape.

Yes, Phang Nga is overwhelmed, but I still  love this fading Bond beauty. Then again, I’m a really big karst fan and a really big Bond fan. And as much as I hate to admit this, The Man with the Golden Gun was always one of my favorites. (I can hear the Bond purists gagging.)

For Bond fans and karst fans, here is a link to a video showing Bond’s arrival in Phang Nga Bay. Don’t be surprised by the Chinese soldiers. In the film, Bond was supposed to be sneaking into the islands along the Chinese-Vietnamese border north of Halong Bay.

Tips for Visitors to the Region

The busiest part of Phang Nga is the area between James Bond Island and the Muslim stilt village at Koh Panyi.  Half-day tours are likely to focus on these areas, whereas full-day tours may take in some additional islands as well as the mangroves along the coast. (Winding through the less visited mangroves was a major highlight for us.)

There are also many opportunities to visit less frequented areas such as Koh Yao Noi, Koh Yao Yai and eastern portions of the bay accessible from Ao Leuk and Ao Nang.  It is important to remember that none of these areas is truly “off the beaten track.”

If you just want to see beautiful karst islands in the sea, remember that such formations run the length of the Andaman Coast down through Krabi, Trang and, to a lesser extent, Satun. Again, you’ll share the landscape with other visitors in all of these regions, although they are currently less overwhelmed than Phang Nga Bay.

Also, don’t forget the magnificent karst formations in Khao Sok’s massive Chiaw Lan Lake, a more expensive option which is well worth the additional cost.

After several days in the stunning Khao Sok National Park, we’ve put together a short video. Follow along as we hike trough Khao Sok’s jungle and explore the shores of Chiaw Lan Lake in search for hidden waterfalls and caves. While staying in a floating lodge on the lake was certainly a novelty, the actual focus of the trip was looking for gibbons. Although I didn’t see any and Tony only caught a glimpse of a gibbon’s butt in the distance, we could hear their wailing calls quite often. Eerie and totally awesome!

Snake #1 stares down at me

Thomas was busy brushing his teeth in our super-glam outdoor jungle bathroom and I was too lazy to look for myself, so I just ignored the movement until the distinct slithering on the wall became too obvious to ignore. Damn, I thought to myself, another snake.

But I was wrong, it was two snakes. Two four-foot green snakes with beautiful red patterning along their backs. Clearly, Mother Nature had it in for us since I called her a bitch.

We brought in reinforcements – or more precisely, an old man with a long bamboo stick. I had had my fill of snake chasing in Koh Tarutao, so this time I thought I would let the “professionals” handle the problem. I moved outdoors to our terrace to take in the river views, a troop of long-tailed macaques monitored my every move, hoping for food.

In the background, I could hear the old man beating the hell out of something and Thomas yelling, “Over there. No there, there.”

Snake #2 turns its back on me

Suddenly, a dazed snake flew into the foliage behind our jungle bathroom. Oh well, I thought, that’s the last time I shower back there.

Twenty more minutes of courageous cries, thwacking bamboo beats, and strategizing between Thomas and the old man. I communed with nature.

And finally, the second snake flew out the front door into the tree next to our bungalow. It disappeared.

Thomas and the old man celebrated their victory over nature. Unfortunately, in their moment of primal joy, they forgot to close the door to our bungalow and a large male macaque raced in to search for food. Mother Nature has a wicked sense of humor, too.

Mama macaque, baby, and I listen
to the ruckus in our bungalow

Thomas and the old man returned to battle and I sat outside with the mother macaque and her baby waiting for the whole hilarious scene to play itself out. Predictably, the terrified male macaque ended up in the rafters and decided to play hard to get. After another ten minutes of melodrama, the macaque shot out of our room and Thomas and the old man reemerged with a THIRD four-foot snake with the same beautiful red markings.

Oh my god, THREE four-foot snakes in our tiny bungalow. That has to be some kind of record. And, how long had they been in there with us??? I apologize, Mother Nature, I apologize.

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Carrie Ann, this post is dedicated to you. Since you asked for a picture of the snake in Tarutao, I actually thought to get my camera and document the drama.

Wanting to shake it up a little and take a break from beach life, Tony and I have taken a few days to explore the jungle-covered mountains of Khao Sok National park. Considering the close proximity to touristy Phuket, the park seems surprisingly quiet. Obviously, beaches take precedent over rain forest in Thailand. Great for us!

What adds tremendously to our jungle experience here in Khao Sok is staying at Art’s Riverview Jungle Lodge. Unlike many of the other lodges, Art’s really feels like an extension of the national park. As the name implies, it is hidden away in the forest along a small stream only ten minutes from the national park entrance. For nature lovers, this is THE place to stay.

Art’s has atmosphere. Troops of macaques sweep through the jungle compound and hang around between tree houses and bungalows. Wailing calls of gibbons alternate with penetrating electro-bug noises. Tropical flowers, fungi and insects abound. Although all accommodation is elevated, some critters find their way into the rustic huts. Even for nature lovers like us, this can be challenging.

One of the highlights at Art’s is sitting in the river-side restaurant looking at the sheer limestone cliff backing the river. After a day’s walking in the park, the restaurant is a great place to wind down and watch visitors and macaques splash around in the swimming hole at the foot of the cliff. And on the way back to your bungalow, you can wonder at the musical tree frogs and twinkling fire flies. It doesn’t get better than that!

It’s a bizarre site, a Thai navy battleship sitting stranded in grassy fields one kilometer from the coast. Perhaps the most poignant visual testament we’ve encountered to the power of the 2004 super-tsunami that swept across the Indian Ocean.

Khao Lak was the area hardest hit in Thailand. 5,395 people are confirmed to have died in Thailand; more than 4,000 of those people died in and around Khao Lak. (In reality the death toll is estimated to be much higher because of the large number of undocumented Burmese illegally working in the region.)

Much of the most dramatic footage captured as the tsunami hit was filmed here in Khao Lak as well as Koh Phi Phi further south. The tsunami completely devastated the coast here leveling the hotels and restaurants which lined the beaches. Even today hotel and restaurant ruins are still easily found.

Memories of the tsunami are very much alive in Khao Lak. Strolling along the beaches here, we discovered numerous impromptu memorials to family members and friends who died during the natural disaster. Laminated photos of loved ones nailed to coconut trees with bouquets of flowers and messages in Swedish, German and English. It’s an extraordinarily moving tribute to those who died here.

Beyond the human toll, the environmental impact of the tsunami is also quite noticeable. Much damage was done to Thailand’s coral reefs, although, truth be told, bleaching due to global warming has been far more destructive. And while resort beaches have been cleaned up, Thailand’s remotest beaches are often still covered with debris. Some of the more isolated beaches in Tarutao National Park were covered with huge chunks of broken wood, endless Styrofoam pontoons, and a host of personal objects from children’s toys to cooking utensils to mountains of flip-flops.

Fear of another tsunami is palpable among Thai locals and visitors. Up and down Thailand’s Andaman coast, endless signs direct visitors to tsunami escape routes. Ironically, these signs can be somewhat discomforting as, occasionally, they serve to highlight just how far you are from safety.

But life has a way of teaching you a valuable lesson. While we had our eyes focused on Thailand’s evacuation signs and worried about quickly dropping tides, the world’s next super-tsunami hit Japan, reminding us that Mother Nature can be one hell of an unpredictable bitch.