The Walls Have Ears.

 
I am a lazy, lazy blogger.  I wrote this about a month ago and it's just been lolling around on my desktop since then. But better late than never, I suppose …
 

We’re back on Ko Lanta. And it’s like a totally different place. The ocean is calm and flat. The beaches are now clean and inviting. And we’ve found a perfect little place to pass the time.

It’s called Bee Bees Little Village. And a little village is exactly what it’s like. With 12 cleverly-built bungalows of various shapes and sizes clustered around a kontiki-driftwood-style restaurant and beach bar.

The place is brilliantly run by a fantastic Thai/Japanese couple who, along with their staff, give the place an irresistible personality.

The unique little bungalows have roofs made from palm fronds and walls made from woven bamboo, with plenty of gaps around the roofline for cross-ventilation. This more traditional style of building keeps the rooms incredibly cool. And it looks great. It does have one interesting drawback, though.

You can hear everything coming from inside.

And so the village has become very familiar with Sam’s morning routine, which today had me bundling our little Wurlitzer into his pram at 6am and whisking him away to allow everyone could get back to sleep for another hour or two.

The thin walls have also included us in some of our neighbours more intimate moments.

On our first night here, an Argentinean couple got back from a night on the town feeling frisky. And set the mood with a bit of saxophone, slow jam, romance music that assaulted the night air from a set of crappy speakers that were no doubt bought for very little in Bangkok.

“What the hell is that? Why is that woman singing so badly? Who would own such an album? And why on earth is it being played at 1 in the morning?” We wondered.

Then the grunts and groans began.

“Oh, no!” We cried, as the wailing sax failed to mask their farm animal sounds of passion.

“Oh, yes!” They cried. Over and over again. It was a long album. And their impressive stamina allowed our ears to be victimised by most of it.

Then, a few nights later, an American couple got home late from a heavy drinking session, and probably a large meal. They Evel Knieveled their noisy mopeds up to their front door and struggled with the key for a few minutes. When they had finally got inside, they took a deep breath and started to wildly and loudly vomit, well into the small hours.

The next day, as their mattress and mosquito net dried in the sun, they made their shame-faced exit. Screaming at each other about how wonderful Bee Bees Village was as they crept off to find another, more anonymous resort.