Urak Lawoi are one of three tribes of Chao Ley ('sea gypsies') that arrived from Malaysia and settled on a number of islands off the west coast of Thailand. A small comminity lives in the village of Ban Sangka-u in the south-east corner of Ko Lanta Yai.
Fuelled only by a banana-pineapple smoothie, we set out on our walk south along the east coast of the island.
At the end of the road on which we live, there is a tiny beach. This has nothing on the long stretches of golden sand that make up the west coast of the island, but had a secluded charm about it. Fishermen's boats were moored along the shore and some were catching forty winks in hammocks slung between the palm trees.
As we sat on the beach admiring the view out to Ko Khlang, every now and then a moped would pull up. A couple would dismount, snap a photo, and drive off. By far the most popular way of seeing the island is by scooter, which can be rented by the day.
We took the only road south, the tree-covered hills of the national park looming over our right side, while the waves lapped on our left. We passed orderly lines of trees in rubber plantations, the bark stripped back and the sap being collected into half a coconut shell.
Certainly we garnered plenty of attention and askance looks for making the 6 or 7km journey on foot, as tourists and locals alike were borne on two wheels. As we made our way slowly along, mopeds carrying tourists clad in beachwear zoomed past, only to return a few minutes later. We have seen them tour Old Town at the same speed, pausing only briefly to take a picture at the end of the pier, before racing off again. One such couple passed us, demonstrating the most efficient method of sightseeing I have ever witnessed. While the man drove the scooter, his girlfriend held a phone camera aloft, turning left and right. They wheeled by moments later in the opposite direction, having captured the totality of the experience on video for posterity.
Our more stately pace allowed us to investigate a small coastal community on the way, where goats and their kids ran about the village and the tide had come in so far as to submerge the trees along the shoreline.
As we entered Ban Sangka-u, we chanced on the cemetery of the Urak Lawoi. Here the deceased are buried in small tombs along the coast, so that they can listen to the sound of the sea as they have their entire life.
I must admit that I was expecting the Chao Ley village to look totally different. With their sea-bound lifestyle, their own language, and the fact that they have famously kept themselves apart from other island life, I suppose I had anticipated a greater contrast. Instead, the houses, some of corrugated metal, others of tiled concrete, looked much the same as others we have seen in Thailand and elsewhere in SE Asia.
A small museum gave some description of the customs and traditions of the Urak Lawoi. This included the Lot Rua (Floating Boat) festival, in which forgiveness from the sea god is sought and evil cast away on a boat, and traditional songs, which mostly centre around courting rituals using various analogies as symbols of love.
Back at home, and having stopped only for a juice on the way at one of the few hilltop cafés that boast magnificent views over Koh Lek, I reprised yesterday's aborted meal.
Before the gas ran out, I had planned us some tofu pad takrai (เต้าหู้ผัดตะไคร้), zesty with huge amounts of lemongrass, rice vinegar, palm sugar, galangal and ginger, and some lemon basil. With it we had stir-fried morning glory, pad pak boon (ผัดผักบุ้ง), and some egg fried rice. Eaten in quantities befitting those who had walked a moderate distance in 30° heat, it hit the spot.
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