Koh Mook

"Whatta ya doin', ya Mook?"

If you were to never leave the Charlie Beach Resort, you would not know that there is a real island here, complete with real Thai folks.

As you leave the gate of the resort, complete with its very sleepy security guard, a dirt road leads up the hill through the dense jungle, which is quickly replaced by rubber tree plantations.
There are a few off-beach resorts, descending in western style creature comforts until you get to Mookies. At Mookies, all pretense is abandoned. There are "tent-alows," old frame tents pitched under tarp awnings. Mookies is supposed to have the coldest beer in Thailand, but we found not a soul stirring, sort of a tent ghost town.

The road climbs the hill to the new tsunami warning tower and, now paved, drops into the village, which I have christened Mookville. It is probably called Mook for all I know. First of all, Mookville is a real Thai village, with little shops, ducks and chickens and what-not wandering around, and people sleepy in the mid-day heat. Folks are very friendly and very laid back. Secondly, it becomes apparent that Mookville has seen some trouble.

Mookville is a town on stilts. The center of Mookville, along the river, was devastated by the 2004 tsunami. I will post some pics later, which show the tsunami marker where the surge came in 2.5 meters high. According the lovely woman who owns Sugars Coffee, no one was killed in the village, but many people were badly hurt. The rebuilding is still going on, particularly along the river. The tsunami surge pushed a wall of dark sand and mud in front of it and basically flattened all of the vegetation and most of the structures in its path. The lowland area of town is still a plain of dried mud, as new houses go up on larger concrete piers, or old houses are rebuilt on new foundations.

The main pier is in Mookville, along with a handful of funkier resorts, shops and restaurants. There is also a school, hospital and mosque, anchoring the village.

The midday heat finally bore down on me with its full brunt and I turned away from Mookville and climbed the hill back over to the resort. Mookies was still devoid of life, perhaps from too many of the coldest. Now it is almost cigar-thirty, judging by the sun. I have been scanning the horizon for a boat bearing me back my lost phone, but although boats have come and gone, my phone has not. Alas. Perhaps it will yet, but it doesn't really matter at this point.

So, ciao for now. I will have to load photos off of my camera onto a PC here at the resort, but that will have to wait until dark. Now I must smoke and scan the horizon.



Sent from the Lair of the Cute, Thievin' Monkeys