Happy Belly on Play: Sleeping on The Beach

“Come and enjoy the experience of a lifetime, camping on the beach that was made famous by the film “The Beach” featuring Leonardo Di Caprio which was filmed in Maya Bay in 2000.”

That line caught my eye among the chaos of boards littered the path. No, I’m not a Leonardo fan, but I like camping. And I’ve never tried camping on the beach.

“A purpose-converted fishing trawler transports customers to Maya Bay after stopping at the Viking Cave and snorkelling and kayaking at Pileh Bay, Losama Bay or Shark Point. We arrive on ‘the beach’ at around 5pm just as the day tourists are leaving the island, and the island slowly but surely becomes deserted.”

My brain did some quick math and concluded that it was a good deal because it included the equivalent of a half-day snorkelling trip and one night’s accommodation. What finally sold me was the line that said “numbers are limited to 25 people only” and the usually streetwise me fell for it hook, line and sinker.

It was 1pm and we had arrived at Phi Phi Island, south of Thailand, only two hours earlier. We hadn’t booked a place in advance and it had taken us some effort to finally find a suitable room. But there I was press-ganging my long-suffering friend to check out of the guesthouse and sign up for this sleeping-on-the-beach caper which was set to leave at 3pm.

Imagine having the whole beach to ourselves, I tried convincing her. And see, it’s got flush toilets and electricity, so it can’t be too bad, I added.

At 3pm, we were waiting at the meeting point. By 4pm, there were 20 of us waiting. By 4.30pm, a big group of football jock and cheerleader types joined us, bringing the grand total to only 45 people, plus one baby.



When I saw the “purpose-built” boat, my heart sank even further. It didn’t matter that it had no seats, it was small – way too small for all of us. It could possibly accommodate 25 but squeezing 45 hulking Caucasian sizes into the limited space was worse than forcing sardines into a can.

We left the pier dangerously low in the water and headed to the Viking Cave which is famous for the bird’s nests that the Chinese like to eat. We literally stopped for two minutes and looked at the cave from afar in our coolie boat.

The converted fish trawler continued and finally anchored at Maya Bay. Huh, where’s the promised snorkelling at the gorgeous Pileh Bay and Losamah Bay? I was too disheartened to argue by then, especially since the guide said that we’d only have half an hour to kayak and snorkel before heading to the beach. Everyone started fighting over the two kayaks and 30 snorkels. At least I had my own gear.

There wasn’t enough sunlight by then so there wasn’t very much to see. Jumping into the water had been easy but getting back up was a different matter. There were no ladders. Instead we had to haul ourselves up using the tyre bumpers on the sides. As luck would have it, I slipped while pulling myself up and slammed my right side into the side of the boat. It swelled into a scary-looking bruise.

Injured and upset, I arrived at the beach with the sole aim of finding a way back to mainland. But it was too late – all the daytrippers had gone. I resigned myself to a night of exotic wildness and headed to the toilets for a shower. Oh, there are no showers? Never mind, I saw a hose outside. Ack, the water is salty!

Ever the optimist, I strode to the makeshift drinks stall, determined to buy water no matter how exorbitant it might be. They had Coca-Cola and a range of Thai liquor for sale. No water.

My hair was stringy, my skin was sticky and my side was hurting. I was quite ready to sit down and cry by then. But common sense prevailed and I remembered the bottle of mineral water we’d taken along. That one litre of freshwater would just have to be enough for drinking, general washing (which includes washing of hands for removal of contact lenses) and brushing teeth.

Things got better during dinner which was somewhat palatable, except for the loud house music that was blaring away and the constant acrid smell of cigarette smoke. The staff started handing out mini buckets, a signal that the party was starting. The first bucket – a mixer of Coke and a cheap Thai whiskey – was free.

Being somewhat boring people who don’t smoke, drink or party, we decided on an early night – find a spot away from the pounding bass so that we can hear the waves and admire the stars. We asked for our tent (which was promised) and were instead given a rattan mat, a sleeping bag and a foam block each.


It was amazing to lie on the open beach under the canopy of stars, lulled to sleep by a balmy sea breeze which, unfortunately, also blew sand onto us. I thought of zipping myself up in the sleeping bag to keep the sand at bay but the zip, of course, didn’t work so the sleeping bag was just like a big thin blanket.

Sleep was fitful with drunken revellers taking turns to pee in the sea and generally making a nuisance of themselves. So it wasn’t difficult to wake up to catch the sunrise, except that I was encrusted in sand – in my hair, my mouth, my ear, my nose.

You know how some people say the best is yet to be? The biggest surprise was waiting for me during my early morning visit to the toilet where I was confronted with the unwelcome reminder of womanhood. Nothing’s worse than being caught off guard, other than being caught off guard on an island with no 7-Eleven shops and having to make your own maxi pad.

So it was with great relief and joy that I left The Beach. And the greatest irony of it all – I have yet to see the movie.