When we got off the train in Hat Yai we were immediately struck by the brightly lit neon signs, all in Thai, not a hint of English . We knew we were in a part of Thailand that wasn't frequented by gringos.

Hat Yai hadn't been intentional. Our original plan was to travel much farther up the Malay Peninsula to Chumphon. From there we were going to catch a ferry to Koh Tao for the diving. Travellers had warned us though that Koh Tao had turned into a white-man's zoo and that the reef was badly damaged. So, our new destination became Koh Lanta, on the Andaman Sea. But the logistics of getting there had to be drastically changed. We could have travelled on up the peninsula and gotten off the train fifty or so kilometres from Koh Lanta, but the area is a dead-zone where we'd probably have to hitchhike to the coast.

So Hat Yai it was. Thais have a reputation of friendliness, but not in this modern and old city, where there's a hotel which looks very much like Toronto's Harbour Castle. And in this one, the revolving restaurant at the top actually revolves. When we booked into our seven storey, fairly new hotel, all of the staff had the same wondering look that seemed to say, "These folks ain't from around here." Several times during the booking in process I smiled for one reason or another and said, "Thank you." Each time this occurred it was returned with a glare as if I'd just told them to "fuck off." It was bizarre and funny. I started saying thank you for things that weren't even given to me. The funny thing is, the whole experience wasn't really all that foreign to us . At home we live in Chinatown where English isn't spoken either. Back in Toronto though, they don't give you that what did you say to me? look when you say, thank you. They just glare.

It was late and we were hungry, so we went to a restaurant across the street called the Romance Toscany Piccolo. It was quite spiffy with a small stage setup. There was an extensive Italian menu, with some Thai food as well. Again, no one spoke English or Italian for that matter, so we had to choose our meals by pointing at photos. We ordered beer which was served much like the fancy restaurants of the world serve wine, the bottle wrapped in a towel, sitting off to the side on a cart, with an ever present waitress waiting to pour as our glasses emptied. Not being a wine drinking nation, they must have figured that this is how you serve beer in Italy. We passed on the Italian and went for the spicy Thai which cost less than two bucks a piece.
 
Hat Yai may not have been the best jumping off point for our journey to Koh Lanta. It began with a three hour ride in a white can with wheels, called a mini-bus, where everyone is packed in so tightly that you have to sit perfectly straight and wind up sleeping against one another in hope of making the horrible experience go away faster. This was followed by a three hour wait in a sweltering town called Trang, which was then followed by another three hour sardine can-like mini-bus ride to Koh Lanta - total time and distance, about 120 kilometres, over nine hours.
 
Elenka wasn't pleased.