Everyone we met today tried to convince us not to go to Phang-nga. "Why are you leaving Phuket? This is where everybody goes!" "Phang-nga? There's nothing there!" "Everyone goes to Krabi or Phi-Phi, what are you doing?" Stubborn, rock-headed Americans that we are, Nathan and I found ourselves a bus anyway and trundled 86 kilometers northeast from the glitz and the chaos of Phuket. Something about strolling between a Starbucks and a sprawling Club Med to a strip of white sand populated by scanty swimsuits just didn't have the same appeal as exploring towering islands in the middle of a national park.
Phang-nga itself is a pretty simple affair with a central street where all the signs are in Thai and there's not a Speedo in sight. From the simple tour office facing the bus station we received a hand-drawn map (definitely not to scale) of all local points of interest: 7 Eleven, the three guest houses, various small markets, and a whole list of caves. After dropping our bags and grabbing a quick bowl of noodle soup we set off in search of an adventure.
A mile or so down the road we decided to follow the directions of a helpful pointing statue and took a right turn towards the vertical hills ringing the town. Sure enough, there were more helpful pointing statues guiding us into one of the most bizarre religious complexes I've encountered yet. It started out innocently enough with a row of animals from the Chinese zodiac. Down a set of stairs, however, we found ourselves in hell - quite literally. Concrete figures covered in oozing sores, losing eyeballs from sockets and limbs from bodies, were being attacked by all manners of demons with saws, axes, giant screws, or spears, dripping with garish red paint that was surprisingly effective in eliciting a response. After I picked my jaw off the ground and repressed my gag reflex we made a hasty retreat up a set of stairs that led, disconcertingly enough, into the mouth of a huge cave.
My skin still crawling from the gory scenes below, the cavern seemed more menacing than tranquil, bats fluttering from dark recesses and frogs croaking at us from some gloomy place below. The little golden shrine, hidden in the midst of graceful stalactites and swooping limestone formations, couldn't quite hold our attention as we kept checking over our shoulders for eagle-headed demons. Only when we had escaped through a long winding tunnel in the form of a huge dragon did my heart actually start beating normally again.
Oh, but the adventure wasn't over yet! We'd been through Hell, and now we needed to visit Heaven. A helpful old monk directed us to a narrow staircase made of concrete disguised as wood. We climbed above the rocky jungle all the way up to a shrine perched on an outcropping. It had not one, not two, but three levels, and when we got to the top we forgot all about the bizarre happenings below. Up there we had an amazing view of the jutting green hills fading to blue, out to a flat expanse we could only assume was Phang-nga Bay. We watched kids playing basketball below us and the sun illuminating the cliff faces across the valley.
Thank goodness for those helpful pointing statues, because after all that my poor brain was in no shape to navigate us back to the main road of whizzing scooters and food vendors.
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