Another ferry, sadly minus inappropriate movies, deposited me on another beautifully deserted island paradise - Koh Lanta, in Thailand.
It seems the west coast of the Thai and Malaysian peninsular are currently in low season, but as far as I could tell the weather was perfect and the only downside that everything was deserted. What a shame!
I checked into a little bungalow about five minutes walk from the beach. Again, like Langkawi, it was cheap as chips - only eight pounds a night, I think. With a free swing thrown in.
The place was run by Elsa, a Belgian diving instructor who'd 'retired' to Koh Lanta to run the resort with her (girl)friend. As well as keeping the place spotlessly clean, she served up delicious pastries and coffee for breakfast - a little taste of Europe which was most welcome.
And the little restaurant/chill-out lounge always had a few people hanging around in the evenings who were happy to chat, share a beer and swap travelling tails.
It was a delightful experience all in all, with the exception of the Pepe episode. It's all a bit embarassing really. But here goes.
On my first night, I was sat in the restaurant having some dinner, a glass of red wine (European wine. Bliss. It was my first glass of decent wine for months) and reading my book. I wanted to get some cigarettes and Elsa told me there was a 7/11 about a kilometer up the road.
I was going to walk, but a tall, kindly Thai guy called Pepe offered to take me on his scooter. He was very camp and obviously gay, but I didn't fancy the walk and I've never felt uncomfortable with gay men. Off we went, I got my fags and went to bed.
The next morning Pepe was at my bungalow door offering to show me around the island. Well I had no plans for that day (or any other in fact) besides swinging on my swing and reading, so was happy to play along. Even if I felt very English about the fact he'd turned up uninvited.
I rented a scooter from Elsa and Pepe and I set off along Koh Lanta's only real road. He took me on a great little tour, showing me some off-the-beaten-track beaches and where the tsunami had struck.
He showed me where he planned to buy a bar on the beach and restore it for the high season.
All in all I was having a lovely time, until he suggested we try the nudist beach. Weird, but many people use them. No thanks, Pepe.
Next stop was a five-star resort he used to work in, which was to all intents and purposes empty at that time of year. We rode down through the resort to make use of their private beach.
Just a few yards back from the beach was one of the resort's most expensive bungalows with its own pool. I asked Pepe if it was OK to swim in it and he said sure. So we jumped in and mooched about for 10 minutes. Well I mooched and he decided to ask if my 'collar and cuffs' matched. Well he was a bit more direct than that, but I politely declined, saying only my girlfriend knew that.
It was all a bit weird, but I'm supposedly a London metrosexual media liberal. I could handle this, I'm comfortable in my own sexuality and with his. I've worked with, known and been friends with plenty of gay men. None, however, who were quite as direct, even a little aggresive, as Pepe.
He kept insisting I show him. I guess I should have been flattered, but I wasn't, it made me uncomfortable. He knew I was staight and I'd turned him down two or three times.
I got back on my scooter and went back to my bungalow.
Pepe's attitude the next day was a bit different. He was making comments about how fat I was and generally amusing himself by insulting me. In the end, I lost patience with him and told him to 'eff off'.
He looked a little shocked and I didn't see him much after that. Which was a relief as he'd really ruined my Thailand 'vibe'.
I replaced his company with the local stray, but even he didn't seem that keen to talk to me.
I stayed at Koh Lanta a few more days, talking to Elsa and other locals and discovering that they too were infuriated with Pepe and his refusal to accept all men are not gay if only given the right circumstances.
Still, it kept me off the nuts.
