From North to South: Finding My Rhythm in Krabi’s Tropical Paradise
Southern Thailand feels like a completely different world from the quiet, cultural north. Krabi, with its white-sand beaches, turquoise waters, and towering limestone cliffs, is the kind of tropical paradise that pulls you in effortlessly.
But even in paradise, I find myself searching for my own rhythm—the quiet moments to write, the time for reflection, and the delicate balance between shared experiences and solitude.
For four days, I tried to find that balance, somewhere between the deep blue sea, the lush green jungle, and the people around me.
📍 Krabi, Thailand | January 15, 2023
From North to South
We said goodbye to Thailand’s beautiful north and boarded a two-hour flight south to Krabi.
I was excited—I had never been here before.
The journey felt never-ending, especially with what seemed like a million suitcases. From the airport, we took a car, which then brought us to a boat, because that’s the only way to reach our hotel.
When we arrived at the beach, a golf cart picked us up and drove us through the resort, which stretched across a massive jungle-like landscape, with beaches on both sides.
The view was breathtaking, the atmosphere felt just right, and as the sunset painted the sky in soft pinks and blues, colorful cocktails filled the tables around us.
When people imagine Thailand, this is exactly what they picture.
Later that night, it was just the younger ones left. We had a long, slow dinner, and eventually, we gave in to one of the many dispensaries around.
I took a bite of a brownie, they had a little more, and the night quickly turned into one of the funniest I can remember.
Weed is completely legal in Thailand, and just like in the north, dispensaries are everywhere.
The strong aroma fills the streets, leaving zero room for confusion.
📍 Krabi, Thailand | January 16, 2023
Writing Time
We woke up to breakfast by the beach.
The biggest dilemma in Krabi? Pool or ocean? Obviously, the answer is both.
After a morning by the pool, we wandered around the island and found a stunning beach. The sun here is intense, and the place is packed with tourists.
One of the main attractions is rock climbing—people rent harnesses and scale the massive limestone cliffs scattered around the island. Some massage places even offer a special treatment just for climbers.
Climbing rocks wasn’t exactly our thing, so we took a boat to another beach, where we found wide streets lined with shops, bars, and restaurants.
I stopped to get my nails done because I had already broken four of them. I picked the fanciest, most professional-looking salon I could find.
Unfortunately, I must have ended up with their newest employee—or maybe even the cleaning lady—because she had no idea what she was doing.
She gave me the worst gel manicure of my life, and it took her three hours.
I wish I were exaggerating, but literally, three hours.
She didn’t realize she wasn’t just driving me crazy with her slow pace—she was also frustrating six other people waiting for me.
We left annoyed, because at some point, something had to go wrong.
But as soon as we got back to our beach, we knew exactly what would fix the mood—drinks. So, we had a few.
I’m still adjusting to Thailand’s time zone.
In Mexico, I thought a lot about how writing would feel in different time zones, especially in relation to Israel’s clock.
Back there (seven hours behind Israel), I had a solid writing routine—I’d write in the morning, with my coffee, reflecting on the day before.
Germany was just one hour behind Israel, so it was easy.
But here in Thailand, I’m five hours ahead, which means I usually end up writing at night, right before bed.
I wonder if it affects my writing—being a little more tired, sometimes rushing to sleep.
I also realized that writing with people around is hard.
If I have a thought I know I’ll forget, I’ll stop whatever I’m doing and quickly jot it down, making sure no one sees—as if I’m doing something forbidden.
But real writing—that raw, unfiltered connection to myself—only happens when I’m alone.
Behind The Scenes
📍 Krabi, Thailand | January 17, 2023
Instagram Girl
Today, we took a private boat tour to the nearby islands.
The views were breathtaking—the water shifting between endless shades of blue, the clouds looking like they were painted with a feather, the sand soft as powder, and the weather absolutely perfect.
We hopped from island to island, strolling along pristine beaches and soaking up the sun.
Our guide took us to a stunning coral reef, where we went on a snorkeling adventure.
We were surrounded by vibrant fish of all sizes and colors, and it was simply magical.
Back in Krabi’s bustling area, we had amazing sushi, because after a day like this, what else would we eat?
At times throughout the day, I still felt like I was on a boat—a weird sense of dizziness, as if my body was struggling to regain its balance on land.
I could physically feel myself swaying, even after hours on solid ground.
It’s an interesting sensation—I just hope it’s not dangerous.
Naturally, we ended the day with a massage—because, of course.
What started as a foot massage turned into a full-body oil massage for just 30 shekels an hour.
Who doesn’t love a massage?
That feeling of pure relaxation, indulgence, and serenity—it’s one of the greatest pleasures in the world.
I discovered something new about myself today—my favorite part of a massage isn’t my back or shoulders.
It’s actually my hands.
Weird, right?
There’s something about it that calms me in a unique way, and it’s always the part I look forward to most.
Maybe it’s because my hands are always in motion—constantly fidgeting, biting my nails since I can remember, or just caught in an endless restless loop.
📍 Krabi, Thailand | January 18, 2023
Goodbye, Krabi
Today, we said goodbye to Krabi. It was my first time here, and it’s truly an amazing destination.
Tiny harmless-looking crabs scuttle along the beach, and I’m sure that when I come back to Thailand, I’ll visit Krabi again.
The hotel we stayed at was made up of private villas, and I had one all to myself.
At night, I realized I was a little scared.I don’t even know of what exactly—maybe the thought of a horror movie character suddenly appearing, or maybe just the fact that it’s a jungle retreat and not a building with a security code at the entrance.
Sometimes, I even played music to fill the silence, and sometimes, I just took a few deep breaths to remind myself there’s no real reason to be afraid. Maybe it was because at night, you could hear strange noises coming from the trees—monkeys live all around the resort, and we’re just guests passing through.
A sign on the door read "Beware of Monkeys", and there were warnings everywhere not to feed them—probably because it’s bad for them and disrupts their natural environment.
They also warn you to hold on to your belongings, because monkeys will take anything—including your phone. And who knows, maybe by now they’ve evolved enough to know how to sell it.
We took a one-hour flight to Koh Samui, which is my favorite place in all of Thailand. Everything here is within walking distance—bars, restaurants, shops, clubs—it’s all right there.
I barely remembered the island, considering I hadn’t been here in ten years, and a lot had obviously changed—especially after COVID. We knew that Samui was the cherry on top of our trip.
We had booked one of the most luxurious hotels in advance, fully prepared to indulge. Like in Krabi, the hotel was villa-style, except here, we had private pools.
When I walked into mine, I was shocked. I still couldn’t believe I’d be sleeping here. For a brief moment, I felt a little bitter—this was the kind of place I’d love to share with someone I love.
But just as quickly, that feeling faded, and I was left with pure gratitude. I was here, in this paradise, for four nights—what more could I ask for?
We took a stroll through the main street, and it felt like half the people were Thai, and the other half were Israeli. Wow.
I had completely forgotten how many Israelis were here. Hebrew signs were everywhere—Israeli restaurants, Israeli-run tour agencies—for a moment, I thought I had boarded the wrong flight.
I get why so many Israelis come here—the energy is addictive. And after just one lap around the main street, I could easily see myself staying here long-term.
Then I realized—if I’m saying that out loud, it’s dangerous. Because when I say things like that, they tend to actually happen—not just remain as words floating in the air.
We ate at an Israeli restaurant called "Basilicum", because three out of seven of us were seriously craving Israeli food. I wasn’t expecting much—Israeli food abroad is usually disappointing and never as good as home.
But this time? I was blown away. We ordered chili wings, hummus with tahini and pita, grilled chicken, kebabs, shawarma, fries, salads, and even an arak cocktail.
It might sound basic, but imagine eating mediocre food for four months straight.
This was heaven. And if anyone appreciates good food, it’s me. The kebabs were spiced with cinnamon, the wings were perfect, the fries were crispy and rich, and the salad—oh, the salad—finely chopped with olive oil, just like home.
What a strange feeling—to fly across the world and somehow feel right at home. After dinner, we explored the area, stopped for a massage, and in a split-second decision, I decided to fully embrace the island vibe—I got braids with pink extensions.
Of course, I compared prices. Everywhere I went, people looked at my hair and said, "Wow! For you, 1,500 baht!" I kept walking and found a place offering it for 600. Why not?
I asked if they washed the hair first (so naive), simply because you can’t work with dry hair, especially not hair this long. The sweet Thai woman said no, and she didn’t quite understand when I suggested I go wash it first and come back.
So I went with it—maybe they knew something I didn’t. I sat down to wait, and then a braider from another shop came in. The moment she saw my hair, she gasped in Thai—or at least, that’s how it sounded to me.
She soaked my hair in leave-in conditioner, and suddenly, I was hit with a familiar scent—the exact same hair cream my grandma used. Even here, somehow, she was with me.
Armed with a tiny, thin comb (seriously? That’s the tool you’re choosing for this battle?), and a spray bottle of water, she got to work.
She was incredibly skilled, and sure, it would have been easier if I had washed and detangled my hair first, but I absolutely love having my hair played with—so it was worth every penny. I was so excited about the result, secretly hoping it would help me pass for younger than 30.
At night, everyone went to sleep. I went out to explore the nightlife. I found fire shows, beach parties, buzzing bars, and a feeling of complete freedom. People of all ages dancing to every kind of music. This is the kind of place where people come to let go. They make the effort to get here, just so they can truly be themselves.
Four days in Krabi taught me something about the balance I’m searching for in this journey.
On one hand, fully surrendering to the experience—diving through coral reefs, sipping colorful cocktails, tasting new flavors. On the other, the need for privacy, quiet, and time to process and write.
I’m beginning to understand that nomadism, for me, isn’t just about discovering new places—it’s about the ability to find my own rhythm, over and over again, wherever I go.
Sometimes, that means staying up after everyone else has gone to sleep, wandering off alone, writing at night. And sometimes, it just means finding a little piece of home—even if it comes in the form of a cinnamon-spiced kebab at an Israeli restaurant on the other side of the world.
Behind The Scenes
More stories from Thailand:
A Week in Paradise That Felt Like Hell: The Challenging Side of Koh Samui - Part 1
After the Storm: Pampering, Massage and Good Food in Koh Samui - Part 2
Between Plastic and Mint: Culture and Impressions from Bangkok
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