A few days ago Elenka and I found ourselves at the bus station in the Andaman coast town of Ranong where you catch the ferry to the island of Koh Phayam. It had taken a far-too-fast five hours to drive what should have been a six-and-a-half hour journey from Prachuap Khiri Khan, over on the gulf side of Thailand. We were travelling in a 15 person mini-bus and I felt safest when the driver was nattering loudly on his cell-phone. When he didn't have the phone stuck to his ear he had his eyes glued on the rear-view mirror talking to one or another of the passengers behind him. 

From the bus station in Ranong it's seven kilometres to the pier. And the only way to get from bus to pier is by gripping on tight to whatever seems most solid as you sit behind a lunatic on a motorcycle. Once, when the driver made an abrupt right down an alley, he turned his head to yell something at someone. When he turned his head back to where his eyes should have been looking a car was about to collide with us head-on. He quickly maneuvered us through someone's flower garden, then looked back at me with a red-toothed betel nut smile and said, "No problem." I gave the bugger a James Bond smirk. He'd soon catch the scent, and then later have to clean the seat of the motorcycle from where my arse had left a nasty mess.  

When we arrived on Koh Phayam, about 30 kilometres from the coast, we found out that it was five kilometres to the beach we wanted to go to. Another fricking motorcycle ride, this time along an unpaved goat-type path. When I climbed on the back of the thing the driver looked me up and down, nostrils twitching rapidly. I sniffed to my left, then right trying to locate the bad smell too. She began to accelerate just as another bike came roaring off the pier in front of us. My driver panicked and slammed on the front brake causing us to go for a tumble. I wasn't hurt, but the bike landed on the driver. People rushed to help get the heavy thing off of her; she suffered only a few cuts, bruises and ripped clothing. Finally, we were off, and all the way there she kept turning her head, sniffing and apologizing. By the time we'd arrived at our beach I'd learned to say, 'No problem' 10 times faster than when I'd started. I just wanted the gal to keep her eyes on the path. 

Here's what all this is about: It is my understanding that daily rates for foreign travel medical insurance in the United States is more expensive than any other country in the world. Granted, shootin's are fairly common down in the U.S. but in all my travels down there I've not been involved in gunplay of any sort, never even seen a shootin'. And as far as medical costs go, I have had doctoring needs on a number of occasions in the U.S. and found that on each and every occasion it was less expensive there than it would have been in Canada. 

So, bottom line: In the United States it is possible that you could be killed by errant gunfire. If you were to carry your own weapon, your chances of getting shot would likely grow somewhat. In most of the 3rd world however, you could easily get killed or badly injured by some friendly person who you're paying to provide you with a dangerous service. I think the insurance folks have it all wrong. And gee willikers, back home in Toronto many of us are frightened to death that Uber, the ride sharing, taxi-like operation, isn't properly insured.

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Before coming to Ranong we'd spent three nights in the town of Prachuap Khiri Khan on the Gulf of Siam - Prachuap K K is about a five hour train ride south of Bangkok. We knew we'd landed in a very different place as soon as we got there. There were few farangs (white foreigners) and the ones that were there were fairly old and mostly had Thai women their own age, tucked on their arms. To give an idea of how odd this is, Elenka and I mostly see guys between the ages of 18 - 78 with teenage Thai hookers. Sometimes it's older guys with children - an older Thai women always accompanying this type of gut-wrenching pairing. Once we encountered an old white fellow with a Downs Syndrome boy. Anything goes here. So, seeing old white fellas with old Thai gals caused the hearts in both Elenka's and my chest to skip a couple of pleasant beats. It had a kind of "Best Exotic Marigold Hotel" feel to it ... sort of. And another oddity: in our three nights here we stayed in three different guest-houses. Not because we didn't like where we'd been, we just kept finding better ones.  

We figured out after a couple of days why the wild and crazy farangs don't come here. Although the town has a wonderful promenade that runs along its beautiful beach there weren't any swimmers. We decided to test the waters, find out why. There's a thick green vegetation/moss growing on the bottom. But the vegetation feels more like mud when it comes squishing through your toes. Elenka wouldn't have any part of this beach and I reluctantly agreed with her.

That said, Prachuap Khiri Khan is still a highlight for us. The place is low key; the people are friendly; and the seafood is the best we've found so far - and wait until you see Elenka's monkey photos. This would be a great place to visit for those who love to watch a seascape, but don't care so much for getting their feet wet.  

Also, for older white guys seeking true love that they may not even have to pay for, Prachuap Khiri Khan just might be the place.