Leaving Krabi

I’m not sure if I will ever return here, and that’s what’s making leaving a little tough.

There are some bases of operation that you develop a relationship with that borders on love, and when you leave them you do so with a heavy heart because you know that you will miss them. But through it all you always have this deeply-seeded feeling that you will return.

Then there are those places that aren’t necessarily bad but you just can’t foresee any reason why you would ever go back.

For me, Krabi is the second type of place. It was a good stay but little more. So leaving elicits a different kind of heavy heart, because I know that it’s a goodbye rather than a see you later.

We packed up our apartment — which was a two story, brand new type of edifice at the edge of town — and said our goodbyes to the pad Thai lady and the dim sum crew. We caught a ride to the airport with some lady who pulled up next to us on the road and asked if we wanted a lift.

The relationships that you can build with people when you stick around for a while is the true hallmark of travel. Staying places for a night or two and then moving on you’re not much more than a gust of wind: you blow through and rattle the leaves but few even notice you and even less remember.

For the first five minutes, the anonymity of fast travel is an intrigue, but it’s a fantasy that wears off fast. I like it that I know the lady on the corner. I like that when I walk into the restaurant down the street they are going to greet me with a big Chang beer without me having to ask for it.