When the tsunami struck Thailand's Andaman coast in December 2004, Olov Carlsson feared it would be a day of infamy for the resort town of Khao Lak. 'I am worried that Khao Lak will be synonymous with a disaster area, that the name will have a mark on it, like places such as Auschwitz or Srebrenica or Beirut,' the bungalow owner told Swedish television after the catastrophe. 'Without the tourists, Khao Lak will die.' Less than three years on, Carlsson and Khao Lak are both revived. 'This year Khao Lak is doing quite well,' he says. 'From what I hear, it's basically booked out.' Few people know Khao Lak's tourist industry as well as Carlsson. When the Swede first arrived here as a backpacker in 1988, it was just a string of fishing villages. That year, he built the first tourist bungalows in the area and soon established the first dive centre, spawning a booming industry around the now world-renowned dive sites of the Similan Islands. When the tsunami struck he was in his Poseidon Bungalows restaurant, which was destroyed along with the reception building and five huts. 'But everybody survived here; it was the only place on the beach in Khao Lak where everybody survived. We were quite lucky,' he says. Indeed they were. Immediately north of Phuket, Khao Lak was the hardest-struck area in Thailand, with the tsunami killing 4,225 people in and around the province. Waves rose to almost 14 metres, rolling over the land to the foot of the mountains behind the town. One hundred of its 143 resorts were damaged or destroyed. Two dolphins were later found in a lagoon 1km from the coast. Today, Khao Lak is a smart, gleaming resort town, though there is no mistaking its recent history. Along the coastal highway signs warn of tsunami danger and the area is laced with evacuation routes. The sound of hammering betrays the continuing reconstruction. Stroll along the beach at the village of Bang Niang, which took the full force of the tsunami, and it feels light-years from disaster. Lined with resorts and restaurants, here the noise of rebuilding is overwhelmed, perhaps ironically, by the sound of the ocean's waves. The place feels stylish, serene and almost unrecognisable to anyone who knew Khao Lak before Boxing Day 2004. The bungalows that had been the staple of Khao Lak's tourism have been replaced by swanky resorts. 'The small places have almost all gone,' Carlsson says. 'It's all now really upmarket: air-con, swimming pool, that sort of thing. It was already happening before the tsunami - being bought up by people [intending to] build big resorts - but this made it happen much faster. It would probably have taken 10 or 20 years otherwise.' Locals typically bemoan the change but the tourists clearly do not. From almost zero occupancy in 2005, Khao Lak last season approached capacity. Boats sailed in virtual fleets to the Similans while walkers returned to the trio of national parks that surround the town, lending it a natural attraction that has long set it apart from other Thai beach resorts. In keeping with this purity, Khao Lak - both before and after the tsunami - has avoided some of the tackiness associated with the Thai coast. The town has responded to the excesses of neighbouring Phuket by governing against similar 'progress'. 'It's very personal here, different to Phuket,' says Khao Lak tour operator Alex Bolle. 'Phuket's had mass tourism for 25 years, so it's not as friendly. Here, people develop relationships with the Thais and you feel like part of the Khao Lak family.' Beach vendors, umbrellas and chairs, as well as jet-skis, are banned. About the only time the place becomes noisy is during the twice-weekly market held in a barren Bang Niang lot, where stereos blast through the afternoon and early evening. There are no girlie bars and watering holes aren't even allowed to include the word 'bar' in their names, though a few sports bars have side-stepped this regulation. If that makes Khao Lak sound as exciting as a visit to your in-laws, there is a paradox: it has the lengthiest - albeit some of the tamest - nightlife in Thailand. 'There's not really much nightlife in Khao Lak, but this is the one place in Thailand where you can stay up and drink until 7 o'clock in the morning,' Carlsson says. 'In most of Thailand, bars close at midnight and, in theory, it's the same here but it's not enforced. 'In Phuket, you would be arrested if you stayed open five minutes after 1 o'clock but even on the main road here police usually just wave if they drive by at 4am. It could be that the police have been told to be a bit lenient after the tsunami.' One of the biggest changes within Khao Lak is that, where it used to be simply a springboard to other places, today it sports a few tourist attractions of its own. All are related to the tsunami. In Bang Niang, the International Tsunami Museum opened last Christmas to coincide with the disaster's second anniversary. Less a lament than a celebration of the volunteers and companies that helped in the tragedy's wake, it has a collection of information boards and digital displays. Though it looks primarily at the global effects of the tsunami, it also shows a digital video outlining the extent of the local damage. Beside the museum is Khao Lak's most striking tsunami reminder: an enormous police boat that was washed 1km inland by the waves. Fifty metres away is the Tsunami Craft Centre, one of the first businesses established in Bang Niang after the event, opening in March 2005. Here, visitors can purchase bags, clothes, art and the like produced by tsunami-affected locals from 13 villages and survivors' camps. A tsunami memorial has also been planned for the simply titled Small Sandy Beach, in nearby Khao Lak-Lam Ru National Park. But to find the most emotional memorial you must head out of town. Hiring a scooter, I motor 30km north to the fishing village of Ban Nam Khem. There is no tourism infrastructure here but there is the Tsunami Memorial Park, featuring a sunken walkway dedicated to the victims. One wall of the walkway is covered in diamond-shaped plaques with the names of the dead. Beside one hangs a child's toy; a German firefighter's helmet is on another. There are photographs of smiling children. The opposite wall has been cut away to reveal a washed-up boat. I step off the walkway and into the manicured park around it. Families picnic on the grass and children squeal through the playground. Beyond it all is the sea, breaking gently on a sandbar. For Khao Lak, it seems the big wave is history. Waves of tourists are the future. Getting there: Dragonair ( www.dragonair.com ) flies from Hong Kong to Phuket, from where Khao Lak is a short bus or taxi ride. Poseidon Bungalows ( www.similantour.nu ) is about 5km south of Khao Lak, near the town of Thap Lamu. Information on the Tsunami Craft Centre can be found at www.tsunamicraft.com .
