When I share some of our pictures on WhatsApp or Instagram, maybe in some of those pictures either Niki or I are on our laptops. This must make at least some of our smarter friends go like, “Lol, what are these jobless people even doing with a laptop?” Well, thanks for asking. We are on the lookout for opportunities that align with our values, and this is partly why we wanted unlimited travel time this year. Niki found one such opportunity when we were in Ella and submitted a volunteer application. After a long back-and-forth over email, we made a final decision: “Let’s go and check it out.”

Story time- In 2000, a Norwegian lady named Junie Kovacs visited the island of Koh Lanta in Krabi, Thailand, and was devastated by the suffering of the animals and the total lack of vet clinics. She was so moved to do something for the poor cats and dogs that by 2004, she had sold her business and all her possessions in Norway to move to the island and start... a cooking school. Wait, a cooking school? Weren't we just talking about animals?

Junie understood that relying on donations alone was a losing game. But since tourists come to Thailand for the food, she founded “Time for Lime,” the island’s first cooking school, hired a few local staff and a chef to run it operationally, and started using the proceeds to fund the first actual shelter: “Lanta Animal Welfare.”

Twenty-two years later, Niki and I arrived at the physical manifestation of Junie’s dream for an exciting and grueling volunteering opportunity, for which we had to commit at least one month of our time. The shelter houses some 60 dogs, and Niki was interested in walking, training, feeding, and cleaning up after them. Given my special situation, I could not commit to the same level of demanding tasks, so I decided to be open to everything and ready to help with whatever else they needed. I told myself that something would work itself out.

And it did! The folks over at the shelter are (naturally) good with resource management, and I ended up splitting my time between helping out at the cooking school and at the shelter’s visitor center—the Kitty Café.

The day started at 6:00 in the morning for Niki, as he always had the 7:00 AM shift: walking with the dogs one by one. Some were fun walks by the beach, and some were quick walks to get the job done before returning to other tasks—deep cleaning of dog areas, raking leaves, replacing linens, and doing endless loads of laundry. The shelter was a well-oiled machine, with rescues, treatments, quarantines, rehabilitation, socialization, and adoptions happening quietly in the background.

For me, most days I would report to the visitors' center at 9:00 AM. Bee the talkative cat and Chef Dae—the lady who ran the visitor center shop—would greet me every morning with a big “Sawadee-kaaaaa!!!”. After this, depending on whether Meaw (the girl who generally ran the Kitty Café—yes, this person’s literal real name is Meaw 🐱) was out sick, I would have two very different kinds of days.

If Meaw was there, she would be in the kitchen making tea and baking cookies, while I would open the shop—cleaning the area, getting all the cups, straws, plates, and the billing tab in place. If Meaw was not there, this is when all hell would break loose. I would run into the kitchen and start preparing copious amounts of Thai tea, coffee, and lemon tea, while fresh cookies baked in the oven. The first guests would generally start trickling in around 10:00 AM, giving me an hour before everything had to be open for business.

These guests were tourists visiting for the “Lanta Animal Welfare Tour.” The shelter conducted two tours a day, running for almost two hours each. The guests on these tours are the ones who usually fall in love with the animals, and this is where most adoption matchmaking would get initiated. Georgia, one of the other volunteers, would generally host these tours. She ran almost exclusively on coffee, and her morning cold coffee fix would usually be my first sale of the day. I slowly got used to the rhythm: be ready on time, stay at the café front, smile, give information about the shelter when needed, sell very many items from the cafe, and go back to the kitchen when the tours started- to replenish cookie and cake stock.

Some days, from the kitchen, I could hear the crying of abandoned pups that were rescued and now in quarantine; on other days, I would hear stories of a dog rescued after being stabbed, needing emergency surgery. We were quickly coming to terms with the reality: this opportunity was going to expose us to both the worst and the best of humanity.

I would spend my lunch breaks with Pegasus at the FIV cat mansion. Pegasus has been in quarantine for as long as anyone can remember because he suffers from Feline Immunodeficiency Virus. FIV can’t be treated, and while it can’t be transmitted to humans, it can be transmitted to other cats. Pegasus lived in a cage for a long time until a kind couple from the Netherlands saw him. They fell in love but couldn't take him home because they already had a cat. So they asked the shelter: "Can we build a house to isolate cats with this virus? Maybe that gives them more space to play around?" And that is how the FIV mansion came into existence. While we saw cases of animal cruelty every day, I spent my lunch hour giving company to the cuddle bug Pegasus, reminding myself of the kindness that also exists in the world.

This island drastically changed my worldview of cats. Before this, I knew cats to be reserved and independent, only with a human for free food. I know some cat parents who are delulu enough to think their cats truly love them, and that’s okay. We all live in our fantasies; no need to disturb them. In Koh Lanta, however, cats love you. No matter who you are, they love you.

One day, I sat at a restaurant for lunch, and a cat who was in a deep sleep nearby immediately jumped on my lap. At first, I was alarmed—Bro, don’t scratch me please. But the cat was purring, so I held him for the next 30 minutes, basking in the love. This happened repeatedly. One stray cat would come running each time I left the visitors' center to hang out while I waited for my ride. I like to think he was protecting me from another cat (who would also approach me at the same time with great enthusiasm)—almost as if to say, “I do you a protec, miss ma'am. That cat over there is not good.” I am not one of those cute people who carry cat treats, yet almost every cat was interested in an exchange. The cats at the center (Pegasus, Nori, Dahlia, Roti, Bee) were just the icing on the cat-shaped cake being baked in my heart. I can safely say this island finally managed to make a (somewhat crazy) cat lady out of me.

And then, of course, there were the people. Chef Dae would greet me every morning with the biggest smile. Aside from her job at the shelter, she ran a restaurant across the road where she did all the cooking and serving every evening. She is also pursuing her Bachelor's in Education on the weekends and has already sent her two kids off to college. Chef Dae is my age, by the way.

She is a classic example of the conservative Muslim women of Koh Lanta. On the surface, they look like they follow the lead of men, keep their heads low, and obey the rules. But in reality, these women are often the ones shaping the rules—the lead figureheads and main breadwinners. One evening outside a 7-Eleven, I noticed an old Ajji stooped under what seemed like the burden of her heavy burqa. I was about to start feeling sorry for her when she swung her legs around a dirt bike—a tiny old lady on a huge bike—and rode off into the sunset. Ajji clearly wears a burqa mainly to hide the fact that she lifts heavy and can whoop your ass on any given day. That and the culture.

Speaking of people, we could not believe our (mainly Niki’s) luck when we heard of the local football culture—Lanta Animal Welfare ran self-organized weekly football tournaments, and their team was called “Two More Beers.” The rules were clear:

• No women allowed, not even as an audience.

• One must drink 2 beers before starting the game.

From what I heard, this 'boys-club' was created as a way for the men at the shelter to decompress from their daily responsibilities—balancing the domestic grind of family life with the high-stakes work at the shelter—and find some common ground to play football. I certainly appreciate the value of a 'reset' button, but the logic of the 'men-only' gate raised a lot of questions in my mind. Maybe I am not the right person to raise questions, but you are in my story :D so be prepared for them questions:

(Just a disclaimer, this next section is somewhat losely based on what I picked up as the real justifications for an all-men group)

"Oh Shubha, what of the physical differences between men and women?? Would it not be unfair on the men if they are not able to play competitively because of women?" — Maybe men have a strong “don’t tackle a woman” instinct, which can’t simply be toggled off, and this messes with the whole game. I can understand that. However, I know some women (especially that Ajji I mentioned earlier) who would not be afraid of rough play. Anyone participating in football, regardless of gender, is aware that it can be rough. From my understanding of a team sport, one is a good player if they can carry the game and win with the team they have (which may include weak, strong, foolish, and oversmart people). Consider that what you are calling “protecting the woman” may actually be paternalism, and you may be gatekeeping the experience.

"Oh Shubha, what if men don’t feel comfortable discussing their feelings around women??" — I understand that there may, stereotypically, be differences in how men and women handle their emotions, and not everyone is comfortable being vulnerable around everyone. But I don’t see this as a gender issue. Some women prefer to stay quiet, drink their beers, and kick the ball around. Others like to go deep and dissect every feeling. Same for men. Maybe we should choose the people we want to be ourselves around—without the gatekeeping.

"Oh Shubha, what about the mental load of constant self-censoring? Where will I safely crack my jokes? Women are so judgmental, they can’t just chill!" — I can understand that there is a temptation to drop all filters after a long day of working at the shelter, and that's not always easy with a mixed group. However, I am also sure not every person finds every joke funny, and a joke can be met with judgment (even from a man). And that should be okay; once again, not a reasonable ground for discrimination.

"Oh Shubha, but it's a tradition!! Men drink beer and play football! Women don’t even care about these things!!" — Then why not open things up and let people decide if they want to join? We all work at the shelter together, and most of us are part of the floating population. Last night’s game is a hot topic constantly being discussed around every corner. Everyone who comes to the café makes sure to let me know how good Niki’s game was. Well, thanks, I would have liked to see it too. Why the segregation?

Above all else, I believe the main reason was: “Oh Shubha, I did not personally make these rules. I inherited a boys' group, and it is far too much work to change a working system.” — "Exhaustion" is the most common reason for maintaining the status quo. Everyone is tired. The women who feel "angry, confused, and left out" are tired of being told they don’t fit into a routine they would love. It doesn’t take much energy to say, "Everyone is welcome at 7:00 PM." The "Path of Least Resistance" usually leads to a very lonely, very small island. It’s 2026 guys—we can build a bigger table, or in this case, a bigger pitch 😄

I don’t even play football, and neither do I personally care much for it. However, I did notice some women feeling angry, confused, and left out from something that they would have enjoyed otherwise. I thought it was not cool that they couldn’t play, just because I know how Niki would feel if he was not allowed to play. All criticism aside, I heard it was fun; Niki would come home happy every Wednesday evening and for that I was happy for him. The efficiency of the shelter the next day would often depend on who drank how many more beers and how many people got injured playing drunk football.

On non-football days we would enjoy sunsets by the beach—Lanta sunsets, just like Lanta cats, are on a whole different level. Every single sunset seemed different, and we would sit by the water and talk at length about them: how this one looks even better than yesterday, right? Oh, but on the day before yesterday that one cloud cluster looked so cool, no? etc. etc. On some days we would end up at a far-off beach and on some days we stayed by the beach that was a few minutes from our house.

The best part about a Lanta sunset is that it doesn't try too hard. There’s no aggressive EDM or 'party of your life' pressure like in many other beach towns; no one trying to sell you something, and the beaches are clean and almost empty. That part I never understood. Empty beaches at high season! Those sunsets were just reliable and gorgeous postcard views, with a side of cut pineapples and a fresh coconut (or two—if we were feeling adventurous).

Of course, let us not forget the main highlight of Thailand—the food!! 😄 Within a few days on the island, we already had a rota of incredible Thai food, and at least three of them are definitely worth mentioning—just in case any one of our readers ends up here 😏

Yaawee: This is a (women and girls in the) family-run Thai restaurant, which has risen to an island favorite. On our first visit, we noticed a long queue of tourists and that generally raises our skepticism. And on that first visit, our orders got a little messed up and we left nodding in agreement—these places made famous by tourists don’t generally work for us. But while working at the shelter, I noticed that almost everyone is a repeat customer at Yaawee. So we tried it again; this time we understood the hype. Some of the items on the menu are absolutely mind-blowing, but the highlights (because after this day we ate there almost every other day) were their tamarind fried chicken, Tom Yum (obviously), Massaman curry, and Tao Koa (Southern salad).

Pad Thai @ Klong Nin: So from the name, it sounds like a scam, right? It's just a small shack by the street and the spots get filled up pretty fast. So we stopped by for a quick lunch one day, and I was absolutely blown away by almost everything we ordered. But their crown jewel was their mango sticky rice. With the rice cooked in pandan leaves, accurately salted, and served with the sweetest mangoes, I could not believe that I was sitting in a small shack on an island, and not at some fancy place on every michelin list possible.

Rim Su Raw: Is it weird to put a place on the list because they have the best possible chili oil on the table?? They also had a rustic-looking Tom Yum with shrimp, which when it arrived I thought, "Ok, it's huge, I will save some for later," but once I started eating, it took me a while but I demolished that bowl.

The most meaningful reason to be on the island was the dogs of Lanta Animal Welfare. Niki spent 6 hours a day with the sweetest babies. As this is a primarily Muslim island, dogs are generally very misunderstood and poorly treated by the locals. For example, when people find dogs in places where they should not be (likely looking for food in the wrong places), the response usually results in cruelty of some form, or when people see dogs suffering on the streets, they usually hesitate to intervene. So, while the main goal of the shelter was to rescue, rehabilitate, and quickly get dogs rehomed (mostly by the floating tourist population), there were a few resident clowns that we managed to get closely acquainted with. Some of them were:

Thomas and Benji – The crowd-pleasers: Thomas had lost one of his front limbs to a road accident, and Benji had wobbly legs, also from a road accident. Once they recovered from their injuries, they were paired together as the couple that blessed visitors at the cooking school. Thomas was not too fazed about the missing limb, but Benji seemed to have a huge problem with all his remaining limbs, and would often be found biting and tugging at one of his legs.

Primrose – The proper lady: Primrose was a senior pup who sometimes had a "hanging tongue syndrome." Despite the silly look, she was a proper and serious lady, and wasn’t easily entertained by any kind of silliness—except when she was on a walk and spotted a patch of fresh grass. At that point, she was a pup again, allowing herself a smol roll in the grass. Soon after we left, we heard the good news that Primrose got adopted by one of the visitors from Denmark 🙂

Bert & Ernie – The high-energy gang: These boys had their own area, which they guarded with their lives along with the loudest barks. Ernie had been injured in a road accident as a small baby, and Bert, being his littermate and best friend, stayed by his side, protecting him with all his tiny might until they were rescued by the catchers. Initially, the fear was that Ernie may not recover from his hip injury, but luckily since he was still young, due to the timely intervention and physical rehabilitation, he completely recovered.

Darwin and Bon – The runner & the plopper: Darwin (another victim of a road accident) was a nervous pup when on walks. He would rely heavily on the confidence of his friend Bon when walking around the streets. But as soon as everyone reached the beach, Darwin was a runner. Bon, on the other hand, once at the beach, would do a hippo plop in the nearest puddle and declare that he was going nowhere today. Bon was almost adopted during our stay, but then unfortunately the plan fell through. One of the most heartbreaking tasks for me on that day was removing the “adopted” stickers that had been placed on all of Bon’s pictures on adoption boards and books ☹️

Aster & Cozy – The crab-grabbers: As soon as these ladies arrived at the beach, they would take up the very important task of digging up crabs. So very serious they were with this self-assigned role, that while others ran on the beach or plopped in puddles, these two would be digging up tunnels after tunnels, looking for the biggest, most juicy crabs (the smaller ones were too fast for them). Luckily, the handlers would intervene if either of them did manage to grab a crab.

After weeks on the road, having a routine and a semblance of a normal life made this place feel like home. We had our local gym, our rented bike, our favorite restaurants, our favorite sunset spots, the banter of new friends, and of course the constant company of some of the goodest cats and dogs to thank for it. We even managed to go for a couple of dives around Koh Tao. By the end of the first week of February, the month was up and it was time to once again disrupt the stability of our newfound routine.

Before leaving, we managed to have some very important conversations with one of the most interesting guys working at the shelter. Aaron was an Australian fellow who had been on the road for quite some time now, and always had the most unbelievable but true stories. For example, one time, while working at a zoo somewhere, he was involved in manually descaling an old python that was too old to shed its own skin. You know. That kind of stuff. We asked him about his favorite place on earth, and he was the one to casually move all our plans around to make space for something that would be “wildly out of our imagination”.

Stick around for Tasikoki 😊 and as always, we love you guys for being here <3"

PS: It takes a lot of heart and hard work but even more funds to keep the shelter running like a tight ship. If you aren’t planning on heading to the island for a cooking class at Time for Lime anytime soon, you can still support the mission and help keep the dogs and cats at the shelter fed and cared for: Donation Link