Muay Thai in Krabi taught me that sometimes the most rewarding experiences are the ones that challenge us the most. 

I am completely wrecked. I’m just a soggy puddle on the gym floor, gasping for air and sweating as if I’ve just completed a marathon in a winter parka. Suddenly, a cheerful but equally sweat-soaked face looms over me. It’s Eliza from Wales, who grins wickedly and sticks her camera in my face. 

 “How does it feel now?” she asks. 

I manage to groan, “Honestly, I’m still deciding if this is something I’d recommend to my best friend or inflict upon my worst enemy.” 

I’m in a Thai boxing gym in Krabi, Thailand, and when it comes to Muay Thai, I’m about as experienced as a toddler at rocket science. Before landing here, I had absolutely no clue of what kind of punishment awaited me. I just thought it sounded like a good idea. A wellness adventure, I told myself. Fitness, new skills, and cultural immersion—what could possibly go wrong? 

Well, I wasn’t entirely mistaken. It’s been all of that, and an extra-large serving of physical agony. Maybe that part was hidden in the tiny print, but let’s be honest, who ever reads tiny print? 

My toes are blistered from training barefoot, and muscles I never knew I had are staging a dramatic protest. And yet, oddly enough, these have been some of the most incredible days ever. Let me explain. 

I’m training at White Shark Chalamkhow Muay Thai gym, just steps away from Klong Muang Beach. It’s one of Krabi’s last tranquil beaches, calm and quiet, free of tacky souvenir shops and loud bars. Just endless, calming stretches of sand, and the sound of waves. 

It’s the perfect setting for a wellness retreat. Instead of sipping Mai Tais, I’m plunging my straw into fresh coconuts, which, as my training buddies swear, are the ultimate sports drink. 

The gym is run by Kru Dam, a former competitive fighter known in the ring as White Shark. While other fighters usually start matches cautiously, Dam went straight to the attack, like a shark sensing blood in the water. 

“That’s because I was always so nervous”, he now explains. 

Despite this fierce reputation, Dum is a friendly soul, forever smiling. But don’t be fooled: he makes sure each training session is painfully memorable, assisted by equally relentless coaches. We begin each session with a ten-minute jog around the padded floor, followed by carefully wrapping our hands. That moment, oddly ceremonial, feels like suiting up for battle. Even if my battle-readiness is more wishful thinking than reality. 

The White Shark gym truly has an open-door policy—quite literally. Actually, it doesn’t have any doors. Or walls, for that matter. Just a simple roof supported by thin metal poles. Anyone can walk right in and ask to join the practice. 

Training continues with shadow boxing with “rest breaks,” which, spoiler alert, aren’t restful at all—they’re packed with push-ups, sit-ups, and squats. Kru Dum has followed this routine since he was eight years old. You can tell: He’s short, compact, and basically solid muscle. 

Eventually, it’s time for pad work one on one with a coach decked out in protective gear. “Jab—Cross—Left knee—Right knee!” he yells commands, and I unleash punches and kicks onto the battered pads. First with full force, then with growing desperation. 

In just three minutes, the trainer skillfully extracts every ounce of energy from my body. A mere one-minute break follows before the next exhausting round. By the end of the third round, all I want to do is collapse, but the trainer enthusiastically demands, “Ten kicks left! And ten more right!” 

And once again, here I am—ending the session as a wet, exhausted puddle on the gym floor. 

After training, I genuinely feel I’ve earned my right to lounge around in a beach chair, dipping into the pool or the sea. And oh, how glorious the ocean feels after these punishing workouts—its gentle waves lovingly soothe my tortured body. 

Every session teaches me something new, and afterward, I feast shamelessly on delicious Thai food, guilt-free. But the best part of training is the camaraderie. At the gym, you quickly become friends with both trainers and fellow students, beginners and seasoned fighters alike, men and women side by side, all bonded by a shared passion. 

Occasionally, we gather for lunch prepared by Kru Dam himself in the tiny kitchen at the back, the air spicy with chili. Adding extra charm to the scene are the adorable kittens tumbling playfully among discarded boxing gloves—a funny contrast to the tough image many have of boxers. In reality, Muay Thai is about respect: respect for trainers, companions, and opponents alike. 

Training runs twice a day, but Kru Dam never minds if someone skips lessons to explore Krabi’s sights. The stunning landscape—karst mountains rising dramatically from the sea—makes a perfect backdrop for rock climbing, kayaking, or hiking. Still, the endorphin rush from Muay Thai training pulls you back to the gym. Who knew that collapsing in exhaustion could feel so rewarding? 

So, would I recommend this adventure to my best friend or my worst enemy? You already know the answer. 

Text and photos: Antti Helin