Sunday, 5 June 2016
Friday, 15 August 2014
Maya jungle party & The Hard Road Hostel
I head out to 7/11 to replenish stocks of some essentials, but it is a fruitless exercise: the toothpaste here contains tons of salt and tastes vile, and the suncream has whitening ingredients.. erm, what's the point in that?! The Asian population believe the whiter the skin the better, so whilst us Westerners are seeking out that particular shade of "mahogany table" skin tone, they are covered from head to foot in clothing, whitening creams, plus a huge umbrella just to be sure. I spend a few hours in the searing heat of the sun on Sunrise Beach with minimal amounts of my stupid new 'whitening' suncream on before spotting Steve from The View Resort and we agree to hang out back at his bar in the shade and have a beer. A beer turns into several beers, turns into evening, which turns into "let's go to Maya!"
Steve drops me off at my roach motel to get ready whilst he catches up with a mate, returning an hour later to take me to the jungle party. Maya is in a different clearing in the jungle and has a more glamorous feel than the Jungle Experience party from the week before, with white gauzy awnings and colourful draped decor. There are nowhere near as many people at this party since everyone leaves the island in their droves following the FMP, which makes for a friendlier atmosphere and plenty of room to dance. Steve is soon looking decidedly worse for wear with a particularly special gurn on, and we wander off separately and I seem to chat to every person in the entire place, twirling and belly-laughing with my new-found bezzies for hours. I hardly notice a photographer snapping away throughout the night, but notice his flyer in my bag a few days later and log on to view the photos....hmmm, perhaps I was a little too well-oiled....cracking night though!
Towards the end of the night I get chatting at the bar to two mates both called Tom, and they invite me back to their hostel for a few drinks. Obviously I look like I need more (not!) so oblige and the three of us cram onto their motorbike at sunrise and head off to Hard Road Seaview, which turns out to be a cool hilltop backpackers hostel with amazing views over Samui. They drag me up the side of the dusty hills to show me the the most stunning viewpoint and we hang out here for a while with our drinks before elegantly (not!) sliding back down to the bar. One Tom on the decks, one pouring drinks, and me dancing on the tables as usual.
It turns out that one of the Toms (I just end up calling them Tom and Tommer for simplicity) who is 24, fit as and a genuinely good guy, has bought the Hard Road Hostel along with his equally cute identical twin brother, who wakes up to see what all the noise is about at around lunchtime.
It's now obvious that I've missed my pre-booked ferry crossing to Samui and will not be checking into my hotel there anytime soon, so I shrug and we party on. Eventually, I have to give in and return to my hotel for a (very late) check-out, so put on my best poorly face complete with pouty bottom lip and manage to evade the late check-out fine by rustling up a half-convincing tale of woe.
Then it's a taxi with all my bags back to the twins' hostel for another night of partying with them and various other travellers who are living in Phangan. They charge a mere 150baht (£3) for a room for the night, and I finally collapse into bed after our mammoth bender, asleep before my head hits the pillow, to the sound of the whirring fan and the chatter of the geckos, vowing to finally get my ass to Samui tomorrow...
Steve drops me off at my roach motel to get ready whilst he catches up with a mate, returning an hour later to take me to the jungle party. Maya is in a different clearing in the jungle and has a more glamorous feel than the Jungle Experience party from the week before, with white gauzy awnings and colourful draped decor. There are nowhere near as many people at this party since everyone leaves the island in their droves following the FMP, which makes for a friendlier atmosphere and plenty of room to dance. Steve is soon looking decidedly worse for wear with a particularly special gurn on, and we wander off separately and I seem to chat to every person in the entire place, twirling and belly-laughing with my new-found bezzies for hours. I hardly notice a photographer snapping away throughout the night, but notice his flyer in my bag a few days later and log on to view the photos....hmmm, perhaps I was a little too well-oiled....cracking night though!
Towards the end of the night I get chatting at the bar to two mates both called Tom, and they invite me back to their hostel for a few drinks. Obviously I look like I need more (not!) so oblige and the three of us cram onto their motorbike at sunrise and head off to Hard Road Seaview, which turns out to be a cool hilltop backpackers hostel with amazing views over Samui. They drag me up the side of the dusty hills to show me the the most stunning viewpoint and we hang out here for a while with our drinks before elegantly (not!) sliding back down to the bar. One Tom on the decks, one pouring drinks, and me dancing on the tables as usual.
It turns out that one of the Toms (I just end up calling them Tom and Tommer for simplicity) who is 24, fit as and a genuinely good guy, has bought the Hard Road Hostel along with his equally cute identical twin brother, who wakes up to see what all the noise is about at around lunchtime.
It's now obvious that I've missed my pre-booked ferry crossing to Samui and will not be checking into my hotel there anytime soon, so I shrug and we party on. Eventually, I have to give in and return to my hotel for a (very late) check-out, so put on my best poorly face complete with pouty bottom lip and manage to evade the late check-out fine by rustling up a half-convincing tale of woe.
Then it's a taxi with all my bags back to the twins' hostel for another night of partying with them and various other travellers who are living in Phangan. They charge a mere 150baht (£3) for a room for the night, and I finally collapse into bed after our mammoth bender, asleep before my head hits the pillow, to the sound of the whirring fan and the chatter of the geckos, vowing to finally get my ass to Samui tomorrow...
Thursday, 14 August 2014
Hard times in Haad Rin
Fully KO'd by the Full Moon Party, I finally arrive back in Baan Tai one dusty taxi-truck ride later at around 8.30am. My weary limbs are calling for my bed, but alas, not a chance as I have to pack and leave my room by 10am. Waaaaah!
I chuck my belongings into my bulging bags and lurch to reception to check out. The owner winces as I almost burn off his eyebrows with my vodka-fume death-breath and I attempt to stroll casually off in a straight-ish line towards the main road to hail a taxi...
Once in aforementioned taxi, I realise that I've left my iPhone charger hanging out of the wall in the bungalow and make him and the other passengers wait whilst I hot-foot it back to the room to retrieve it, casting one last dirty look over my shoulder at Morris the Miner as he wolf whistles furiously at full volume in my ear hole. I am a sweaty wreck by the time I return, and the alcohol buzz is turning into a headachy brain-fog instead. Arriving back in Haad Rin, I check into my pre-booked Friendly Hotel and am bemused to find it's anything but. A grotty flea pit of a room, whose door is full of holes and doesn't even close, let alone lock. Seething and exhausted, I kick-off slightly until I'm moved to a better room on the ground floor by the pool. The manager has the last laugh, however, as I crawl into bed just as they crank up the house music to ear-bleed proportions and I realise the 5ft speakers are practically on my balcony. Thank the Lord for earplugs, as now it's just a thousand decibels rather than ten thousand, but my teeth are still chattering in my head from the bass.
The Full Moon takes me a day and a half to completely recover from, until I eventually crawl from my pit like a hermit crab tentatively emerging from it's shell, and go in search of food. Feeling the energy return to my body is reassuring and one full-body Thai massage later and I'm brand new. There is still a full-scale clean-up operation going on on the beach following the party, with truckloads of buckets, odd flip-flops and beer bottles still being collected. The atmosphere is somber as the majority of the revellers have now deserted the island, and those that remain are still drying out. I have a quiet evening mooching around the town alone and resolve to take it easy from now on.
Unfortunately, the pull of the party is just too strong and I'm once again sucked into the vortex, this time Maya Party in the jungle...
I chuck my belongings into my bulging bags and lurch to reception to check out. The owner winces as I almost burn off his eyebrows with my vodka-fume death-breath and I attempt to stroll casually off in a straight-ish line towards the main road to hail a taxi...
Once in aforementioned taxi, I realise that I've left my iPhone charger hanging out of the wall in the bungalow and make him and the other passengers wait whilst I hot-foot it back to the room to retrieve it, casting one last dirty look over my shoulder at Morris the Miner as he wolf whistles furiously at full volume in my ear hole. I am a sweaty wreck by the time I return, and the alcohol buzz is turning into a headachy brain-fog instead. Arriving back in Haad Rin, I check into my pre-booked Friendly Hotel and am bemused to find it's anything but. A grotty flea pit of a room, whose door is full of holes and doesn't even close, let alone lock. Seething and exhausted, I kick-off slightly until I'm moved to a better room on the ground floor by the pool. The manager has the last laugh, however, as I crawl into bed just as they crank up the house music to ear-bleed proportions and I realise the 5ft speakers are practically on my balcony. Thank the Lord for earplugs, as now it's just a thousand decibels rather than ten thousand, but my teeth are still chattering in my head from the bass.
The Full Moon takes me a day and a half to completely recover from, until I eventually crawl from my pit like a hermit crab tentatively emerging from it's shell, and go in search of food. Feeling the energy return to my body is reassuring and one full-body Thai massage later and I'm brand new. There is still a full-scale clean-up operation going on on the beach following the party, with truckloads of buckets, odd flip-flops and beer bottles still being collected. The atmosphere is somber as the majority of the revellers have now deserted the island, and those that remain are still drying out. I have a quiet evening mooching around the town alone and resolve to take it easy from now on.
Unfortunately, the pull of the party is just too strong and I'm once again sucked into the vortex, this time Maya Party in the jungle...
Full Moon Party 1, Sam 0
I peel back my eyelids and force myself to regain consciousness, completely disorientated for a moment until the dulcet tones of Morris Miner reverberating through my brain rudely reminds me that I'm in Thailand in my Baan Tai bungalow.
I do my usual mental run-through of the previous night, followed by my physical run-through that all my limbs and belongings are still intact. They are...phew! I turn off the air con to allow the circulation back into my extremities and have a "rousing" shower (I have no choice in the matter since most of the lower-end accommodation in Thailand has only cold water showers). Feeling better, I gannet down my approximately 48th green curry of the trip so far and spend the day on the beach listening to chill-out tunes on the iPod, rebuilding my strength for the Full Moon Party that evening.
The view here is absolutely breathtaking - white powdery sand, crystal clear waters....and geckos freaking me out by plopping out of the palm trees from a great height, landing next to my head every 10 mins of so. Don't get me wrong, I love these little critters, but their rotating beady eyes suddenly appearing next to mine as I'm in a trance listening to my tunes does little to calm my frayed nerves from the night before...
I have arranged to meet a group of young lads from Newcastle at the Full Moon Party later - Chris, Michael and chums are staying in Koh Samui, just taking a speedboat to and from the party and not staying in Koh Phangan at all. As there will be an estimated 30000 people on Sunrise Beach tonight for the party, I give them strict instructions to meet me at 11.45pm in the Sunrise Hotel reception, which is one of the few places the wifi will be switched on and I know will not be totally overrun. They agree and I'm excited to have some fresh new blood to party with.
Retrieving the dregs of last night's bucket from the fridge, I finish it off (sand and all) whilst I get ready, before heading out into the night at around 10pm. To my surprise I easily hail a taxi and about 8 of us from various nations exchange excited banter on the bumpy journey to the party. We are stopped by the police, who give us a cursory glance and a flick of the torch around the taxi onto each of us, before sending us on our way. 20 minutes later and we disembark into a seething, writhing crowd of bodies, all swigging from colourful plastic buckets containing a variety of ominous concoctions, each one fired up with an unhealthy dose of palpitation-inducingly strong Thai Red Bull.
Most of the crowd are wearing illuminous vests and have painted their bodies in day-glo paints. There are body-painting stalls lining the roads and everyone stops to adorn their bodies, splashing the paints about. As half the island is in bandages or plaster from various motorcycle/fire-limbo-dancing accidents they have a clean white canvas to work on. The paints are eveywhere and I pass several paint-splattered stray dogs looking entirely bemused....
As we hit the beach, the music reaches ear-splitting levels and thousands of people are dancing frenetically to the music, perched on tables, speakers, in the sea, every platform, stage and flat surface is covered with a writhing mass of tanned and youthful bodies. Pleased that I fixed an exact meeting point with the lads, I soak up the atmosphere (and the vodka) for a while before heading to Sunrise reception to meet them. To my amazement, we instantly find each other - good skills!
Then it's off to meet their friends at Mushroom Mountain for midnight. This is the point where everything gets a little sketchy, but to sum up the night it basically went like this: bucket, mushroom shake, dance, strip off to our swimming gear and run into the sea for a dip, another bucket, chat, dance on a speaker, shake, sea, take the piss out of various casualties, shake, bucket, chat nonsense to randoms, dance, sea....repeat ad nauseum (literally in some cases) or until 7am, whichever comes first.
I don't remember at what point I lost my flip-flops, only that by the morning light there were several random odd flip-flop mountains. To be fair, it's a miracle that my flippers were all I'd lost by that point, as I'd left my bag containing my cash, phone, bank card, room keys and other wildly important items with a whole host of randoms whilst I'd run off into the sea without a care in the world several times throughout the night. One time I emerged from the sea to find the random bag-watcher gone and my bag just sticking out of the sand, hundreds of people dancing nearby. How the night would've ended differently had it been swiped...eep!
We do come across several girls sobbing their hearts out over their bags that have been lost or stolen, and I give one particularly distraught girl 1000 baht (£20) to calm her down and help her out, regretting being quite so generous later when I realise I appear to have lost my cash too. (I say "appear" as they is a distinct possibility that I spent/distributed the cash myself).
Of particular amusement to my new gang of mates is the "Sleep Area", which is basically a portion of the beach sectioned off for casualties of the party who are suffering from "exhaustion", shall we say. In other words, it's a drunk-tank and bodies are strewn and stacked unconscious, and makes for some hilarious photo opportunities. It's like something out of 28 Days Later. We get some cracking shots, and continue on to Cactus Bar for another lil dance-off on the tables. ( Later I say to Chris how much I liked the South African girls we spent ages chatting to at this bar and he gives me a withering look before informing me they were Irish. Hmm, maybe I was more tipsy than I thought....)
Suddenly I'm aware that it's broad daylight, my Northern pals have taken a speedboat back to Samui, and I have acquired a whole new set of reprobate mates. I am also using Mark's crutches to stand (although he has a broken leg and probably needs them more than me to be fair), so perhaps 8am is a good time to leave. Like a scene from Shaun Of The Dead, we all stumble off, barefoot and bleary-eyed, zombie-like in various directions into the distance....
I do my usual mental run-through of the previous night, followed by my physical run-through that all my limbs and belongings are still intact. They are...phew! I turn off the air con to allow the circulation back into my extremities and have a "rousing" shower (I have no choice in the matter since most of the lower-end accommodation in Thailand has only cold water showers). Feeling better, I gannet down my approximately 48th green curry of the trip so far and spend the day on the beach listening to chill-out tunes on the iPod, rebuilding my strength for the Full Moon Party that evening.
The view here is absolutely breathtaking - white powdery sand, crystal clear waters....and geckos freaking me out by plopping out of the palm trees from a great height, landing next to my head every 10 mins of so. Don't get me wrong, I love these little critters, but their rotating beady eyes suddenly appearing next to mine as I'm in a trance listening to my tunes does little to calm my frayed nerves from the night before...
I have arranged to meet a group of young lads from Newcastle at the Full Moon Party later - Chris, Michael and chums are staying in Koh Samui, just taking a speedboat to and from the party and not staying in Koh Phangan at all. As there will be an estimated 30000 people on Sunrise Beach tonight for the party, I give them strict instructions to meet me at 11.45pm in the Sunrise Hotel reception, which is one of the few places the wifi will be switched on and I know will not be totally overrun. They agree and I'm excited to have some fresh new blood to party with.
Retrieving the dregs of last night's bucket from the fridge, I finish it off (sand and all) whilst I get ready, before heading out into the night at around 10pm. To my surprise I easily hail a taxi and about 8 of us from various nations exchange excited banter on the bumpy journey to the party. We are stopped by the police, who give us a cursory glance and a flick of the torch around the taxi onto each of us, before sending us on our way. 20 minutes later and we disembark into a seething, writhing crowd of bodies, all swigging from colourful plastic buckets containing a variety of ominous concoctions, each one fired up with an unhealthy dose of palpitation-inducingly strong Thai Red Bull.
Most of the crowd are wearing illuminous vests and have painted their bodies in day-glo paints. There are body-painting stalls lining the roads and everyone stops to adorn their bodies, splashing the paints about. As half the island is in bandages or plaster from various motorcycle/fire-limbo-dancing accidents they have a clean white canvas to work on. The paints are eveywhere and I pass several paint-splattered stray dogs looking entirely bemused....
As we hit the beach, the music reaches ear-splitting levels and thousands of people are dancing frenetically to the music, perched on tables, speakers, in the sea, every platform, stage and flat surface is covered with a writhing mass of tanned and youthful bodies. Pleased that I fixed an exact meeting point with the lads, I soak up the atmosphere (and the vodka) for a while before heading to Sunrise reception to meet them. To my amazement, we instantly find each other - good skills!
Then it's off to meet their friends at Mushroom Mountain for midnight. This is the point where everything gets a little sketchy, but to sum up the night it basically went like this: bucket, mushroom shake, dance, strip off to our swimming gear and run into the sea for a dip, another bucket, chat, dance on a speaker, shake, sea, take the piss out of various casualties, shake, bucket, chat nonsense to randoms, dance, sea....repeat ad nauseum (literally in some cases) or until 7am, whichever comes first.
I don't remember at what point I lost my flip-flops, only that by the morning light there were several random odd flip-flop mountains. To be fair, it's a miracle that my flippers were all I'd lost by that point, as I'd left my bag containing my cash, phone, bank card, room keys and other wildly important items with a whole host of randoms whilst I'd run off into the sea without a care in the world several times throughout the night. One time I emerged from the sea to find the random bag-watcher gone and my bag just sticking out of the sand, hundreds of people dancing nearby. How the night would've ended differently had it been swiped...eep!
We do come across several girls sobbing their hearts out over their bags that have been lost or stolen, and I give one particularly distraught girl 1000 baht (£20) to calm her down and help her out, regretting being quite so generous later when I realise I appear to have lost my cash too. (I say "appear" as they is a distinct possibility that I spent/distributed the cash myself).
Of particular amusement to my new gang of mates is the "Sleep Area", which is basically a portion of the beach sectioned off for casualties of the party who are suffering from "exhaustion", shall we say. In other words, it's a drunk-tank and bodies are strewn and stacked unconscious, and makes for some hilarious photo opportunities. It's like something out of 28 Days Later. We get some cracking shots, and continue on to Cactus Bar for another lil dance-off on the tables. ( Later I say to Chris how much I liked the South African girls we spent ages chatting to at this bar and he gives me a withering look before informing me they were Irish. Hmm, maybe I was more tipsy than I thought....)
Suddenly I'm aware that it's broad daylight, my Northern pals have taken a speedboat back to Samui, and I have acquired a whole new set of reprobate mates. I am also using Mark's crutches to stand (although he has a broken leg and probably needs them more than me to be fair), so perhaps 8am is a good time to leave. Like a scene from Shaun Of The Dead, we all stumble off, barefoot and bleary-eyed, zombie-like in various directions into the distance....
Tuesday, 12 August 2014
Jungle Fever
After a full night's sleep I'm super-charged and ready to retox at The Jungle Experience. I spend the day chilling (make that sweating) by the pool, before meeting a fellow lone-traveller : a guy from Colorado who also wants to go the the party. It soon becomes apparent that he is in fact a total bore-off, however, so after a cheap Thai street food meal, we part company as I mutter something about needing another shower and I'll catch him later. Like, so much later in fact, that we're in different continents and several decades have passed...
I hail a taxi-truck to Haad Rin and head to Cactus for liquid refreshment in the form of a vodka red bull bucket and sit patiently alone amongst the throngs of gyrating twenty-something's in the hope that someone is coherent enough to actually have a conversation with me. This could be a long night.
I eventually give in and acknowledge the pathetic fact that I'm going to have to go to the jungle alone. The shame! So I stumble to the street in search of a taxi and am suddenly befriended by a gaggle of drunken Irish...my party-pals of choice...sweet! We all bond during the bone-shaking break-neck journey into the jungle and arrive at the clearing to find thousands of people busting shapes to the deep, sexy bass reverberating off the trees. Huge day-glo flowers and fluorescent decorations adorn the trees and there are mini-bridges over the various streams running through the jungle. We all lose each other as quickly as we found one another, but by this point no-one really cares, and I take a ring-side seat as the Muay Thai boxing starts. Everyone is in high-spirits in more ways than one, yelling and cheering the Thai boxers on, before the crowd climb into the ring in pairs and don gloves and helmets and box each other, taking drunken swings and only occasionally making contact with their targets. Then the Thai guys take control again and are back in the ring, tightrope-walking, fire-dancing and performing as many other entertaining tricks as they can think of to keep the masses amused.
I stumble off and get lost for hours in the pumping house music, swigging from my bucket...and wearing half of everyone else's into the bargain. As it takes around an hour to fight to the bar for another, I'm a tad more careful not to slosh mine all over my fellow party-goers. Somehow amongst the hoards of revellers I bump into some of the Irish again, and we dance on into the early hours, finally making it back to my bungalow at sunrise with the last dregs of my bucket and my usual carbonara toasty in hand - these badboys are a mere 29baht (about 50p) and are a taste sensation...well, after a night on the buckets they are anyway, their sickly creamy goodness still oozing through my fingers as I slip into unconsciousness. Even the ADHD miner bird ain't waking me from this alcoholic slumber...
I hail a taxi-truck to Haad Rin and head to Cactus for liquid refreshment in the form of a vodka red bull bucket and sit patiently alone amongst the throngs of gyrating twenty-something's in the hope that someone is coherent enough to actually have a conversation with me. This could be a long night.
I eventually give in and acknowledge the pathetic fact that I'm going to have to go to the jungle alone. The shame! So I stumble to the street in search of a taxi and am suddenly befriended by a gaggle of drunken Irish...my party-pals of choice...sweet! We all bond during the bone-shaking break-neck journey into the jungle and arrive at the clearing to find thousands of people busting shapes to the deep, sexy bass reverberating off the trees. Huge day-glo flowers and fluorescent decorations adorn the trees and there are mini-bridges over the various streams running through the jungle. We all lose each other as quickly as we found one another, but by this point no-one really cares, and I take a ring-side seat as the Muay Thai boxing starts. Everyone is in high-spirits in more ways than one, yelling and cheering the Thai boxers on, before the crowd climb into the ring in pairs and don gloves and helmets and box each other, taking drunken swings and only occasionally making contact with their targets. Then the Thai guys take control again and are back in the ring, tightrope-walking, fire-dancing and performing as many other entertaining tricks as they can think of to keep the masses amused.
I stumble off and get lost for hours in the pumping house music, swigging from my bucket...and wearing half of everyone else's into the bargain. As it takes around an hour to fight to the bar for another, I'm a tad more careful not to slosh mine all over my fellow party-goers. Somehow amongst the hoards of revellers I bump into some of the Irish again, and we dance on into the early hours, finally making it back to my bungalow at sunrise with the last dregs of my bucket and my usual carbonara toasty in hand - these badboys are a mere 29baht (about 50p) and are a taste sensation...well, after a night on the buckets they are anyway, their sickly creamy goodness still oozing through my fingers as I slip into unconsciousness. Even the ADHD miner bird ain't waking me from this alcoholic slumber...
A 'Miner' Annoyance....
Stepping off the boat, I'm soon swallowed up by the crowds and at the same time, all alone again. Having got used to being around someone, I feel strangely exposed and need to adjust to being in my own company again. I hope I don't get on my nerves too much. Far from being totally relaxed when I'm alone, I feel the constant chatter in my head is louder than ever, only I have the extra effort of having to keep up both sides of the conversation...
The sun is hotter than ever today, and I cram into the back of a taxi-truck with several other beefy-pitted travellers from various nations and we head off down the dusty road to our respective hotels and hostels, each watching with trepidation as we pull up at several flea-pit resorts, all silently praying that it's not our own. Luckily, I'm more than impressed when the Thai driver shouts out "Dewshore" and it's my turn to clamber out and gather up my battered luggage.
There seems a be direct correlation between the quality of the hotel and the friendliness of the guests: the more luxurious the resort, the less easy it is to befriend people, whereas the grottier hotels/hostels have more of a "we're all in this together" sense of camaraderie. I'm constantly torn between the two, but on this occasion I'm glad I plumped for the nicer option, as my bungalow is very sweet, nestled between the infinity pool and a breathtaking beach - paradise for the next few days.
That evening I reconnect with Steve who runs The View in Baan Tai, after wandering along the pitch-black roadside for ages, flagging down various taxis until I finally find one who has a vague idea of how to find it. He seems pleased to see me, and we spend the evening catching up, drinking Changs and vodka shots at the bar with several English gap-year girls and a couple of Slovakian pharmacists, who appear to have gotten high on their own supply since they are skinny-dipping in the pool and babbling animatedly long into the night, shouting over the music...
I am rudely awoken the next morning by the sound of the caged miner bird who lives directly outside my bungalow and insists on wolf-whistling loudly approximately every 15 seconds. It would appear I also stopped off at the 24hr 7/11 on the way home as I have crisps in my bed and a carbonara toasty wrapper next to my head. And now my miner-bird mate has even learnt how to impersonate the sound of the motorcycles beeping...gah! Although after several hours of sunbathing, swimming and shell-gathering on the beach I get bored and find myself fully engrossed in conversation with the bird. He can say "sausage" now too....I'm proud of that one!
I had intended to go to the Waterfall Party this evening, but it's gale force winds and torrential rain so I decide to give it a miss. I step out onto my bungalow veranda and it's like someone's holding a hairdryer on full speed and heat directly onto my face...think I'll stay in. Later, peering through the curtains of my bungalow, I note that the miner bird is close-beaked and clinging onto his perch for dear life....not quite as chatty now, huh, lil fella? Feeling smug, I close my curtains and fire up the air-con. I might even manage a full night's sleep at this rate...
The sun is hotter than ever today, and I cram into the back of a taxi-truck with several other beefy-pitted travellers from various nations and we head off down the dusty road to our respective hotels and hostels, each watching with trepidation as we pull up at several flea-pit resorts, all silently praying that it's not our own. Luckily, I'm more than impressed when the Thai driver shouts out "Dewshore" and it's my turn to clamber out and gather up my battered luggage.
There seems a be direct correlation between the quality of the hotel and the friendliness of the guests: the more luxurious the resort, the less easy it is to befriend people, whereas the grottier hotels/hostels have more of a "we're all in this together" sense of camaraderie. I'm constantly torn between the two, but on this occasion I'm glad I plumped for the nicer option, as my bungalow is very sweet, nestled between the infinity pool and a breathtaking beach - paradise for the next few days.
That evening I reconnect with Steve who runs The View in Baan Tai, after wandering along the pitch-black roadside for ages, flagging down various taxis until I finally find one who has a vague idea of how to find it. He seems pleased to see me, and we spend the evening catching up, drinking Changs and vodka shots at the bar with several English gap-year girls and a couple of Slovakian pharmacists, who appear to have gotten high on their own supply since they are skinny-dipping in the pool and babbling animatedly long into the night, shouting over the music...
I am rudely awoken the next morning by the sound of the caged miner bird who lives directly outside my bungalow and insists on wolf-whistling loudly approximately every 15 seconds. It would appear I also stopped off at the 24hr 7/11 on the way home as I have crisps in my bed and a carbonara toasty wrapper next to my head. And now my miner-bird mate has even learnt how to impersonate the sound of the motorcycles beeping...gah! Although after several hours of sunbathing, swimming and shell-gathering on the beach I get bored and find myself fully engrossed in conversation with the bird. He can say "sausage" now too....I'm proud of that one!
I had intended to go to the Waterfall Party this evening, but it's gale force winds and torrential rain so I decide to give it a miss. I step out onto my bungalow veranda and it's like someone's holding a hairdryer on full speed and heat directly onto my face...think I'll stay in. Later, peering through the curtains of my bungalow, I note that the miner bird is close-beaked and clinging onto his perch for dear life....not quite as chatty now, huh, lil fella? Feeling smug, I close my curtains and fire up the air-con. I might even manage a full night's sleep at this rate...
Friday, 8 August 2014
Koh Tao....aaaand relax!
The ferry crossing to Koh Tao is relatively painless for once...I pay the extra few hundred baht for the luxury of the catamaran and get a seat in the lower deck with air con, movies on the big screens and even a bar. I attempt to silence some rather annoying screeching brats with my stink-eye death-stare and when it doesn't have any effect I use it on the parents until it does, then settle down to update the blog. An hour later and Koh Tao comes into view. Several taxi drivers are yelling and touting for business, so I jump into the back of an open-air truck with several other Farang and we whizz off towards Sairee Beach, the wind in our hair a welcome respite from the stifling heat.
Daniel, the German guy I'm rooming with, who shall furthermore be referred to as Dan Ze Deutsch, has already been staying at Secret Garden Village for a few weeks so he meets me at the taxi and we head to our bungalow. It's small but sweet and set back from the beach in a forest of palm trees via a dirt track so is blissfully quiet....that is until Daniel informs me that I snore...a lot! Eep! I try to contain my titters when I awake to find him wearing earplugs/headphones/towel over head combo, his pretty-boy face marred by dark circles. I, however, had the best night's sleep of the trip so far...
We spend a few days together on the beach, him sipping soda water, me chugging back Changs like they are going out of fashion. Dan's 28yr old body is a temple....mine is more of an ancient ruin.
It soon becomes apparent that we are chalk and cheese : he hates clubbing, drinking, smoking and all things crazy and well, fun. Or my version of fun anyway. He prefers the gym, chilling out, soft drinks...all things that are alien to me. I stare at him in wonder like he just landed from another planet.
Despite our glaring differences we have a laugh...mostly me ripping him for being boring, him making jibes about my age, drinking habits etc. One morning we are having a delicious Full English at Sairee Sairee when Diarmid, one of my Irish party pals who've been on the same island-hopping route as me throughout my trip, comes lumbering up, obviously still on one from the night before. Plonking himself down, dodgy braid trailing past his ear, beer dangling from his limp hand, he regales us with tales of the previous night's exploits, which culminated in a full-on fight with a bunch of ladyboys who he'd witnessed hitting a girl after she muttered some throwaway insult at them as she passed them in the street. A group of lads had had to jump in to defend the girl, who was crying as they sucker-punched her and attempted to throw their stilettos at her head. Hell hath no fury like a she-he scorned...
Diarmid and Kieron are leaving on a mission of a journey via planes, trains and automobiles for Bangkok in a few hours, so Diarmid demands that we have a farewell drink...so my English breakfast is promptly washed down with 2 sambucas and a Chang, much to the horror of Dan Ze Deutsch. He then slobbers a kiss in my direction and stumbles off in the vague direction of his hotel and what will probably be the most painful 12hr journey of his life, and for that of all his fellow travellers, no doubt.
We spend the day at Aow Leuk, which is a beautiful cove with crystal-clear warm sea and our white sand, and spot some small sharks, trigger fish and other underwater wonders....well Dan spots them, my eyesight is not quite so sharp after the morning's boozy brekkie. I bump into Nina and Chris in the sea, the Austrians who we got fully-loaded on Shrooms Shakes a week earlier. I stifle a laugh as Nina tells me the shakes were duds and had zero effect on them both. Are you kidding me, I feel like saying, remembering the wild-eyed frantic dancing of that night's escapades. The biggest lightweights in town are saying it had no effect....why oh why did I not get photographic evidence....ha!
Koh Tao is more pricey and with higher-quality restaurants than Phangan, so we have several lip-smacking meals. Barracuda takes bookings, such is it's popularity, but we manage to slip in slyly without a reservation before heading to a fire show on the beach, where there are several 'hairy' moments as the fire-dancing Thai boys swirled their weighted chains of fire around Dan's head, who happens to be sporting approximately half a can of hairspray to achieve that Beckham-perfect style. I don't fancy witnessing his chiselled features burst into flames so we make a move after the 10th time they attempt it and I drag him kicking and screaming into a ladyboy show. There's something strangely hilarious about a Thai ladyboy dressed as Christina Aguilera, resplendent in thigh-high patent boots and a huge blonde wig placed at a jaunty angle on his/her head, gyrating just slightly out of time and miming badly because they have no clue what the actual words are....
It is not lost on me that whilst the UK is commemorating the start of WW1 and lighting candles of remembrance, I'm fraternising with the enemy, so we make light of it as best we can : Dan emerges from the bathroom with his perfect stubble shaved into a Hitler tache...but freaks when I try to take a picture. I wind him up throughout our stay by referring to him loudly as 'my husband' in public, which drives him mad, especially when he's trying to ogle the many nubile young girls within earlobe-licking distance....
On the last day in Koh Tao we are due to go the Muay Thai boxing at the local stadium, but I'm feeling sick as a dog and we have to go back. Seeing as I hadn't had a single drink that day I can only assume that the 40% proof Sangsom had previously been killing off the bacteria featering in my gut, and the sudden withdrawal had caused my tapeworm (or whatever parasite I'm probably cultivating) to panic and cause an intestinal kerfuffle.
Being in Koh Tao with such relaxed company feels like someone yanked up the handbrake on my partying, so it is with mixed feelings that I gather my things and leave the bungalow to head back to Koh Phangan, ready for the retox as Full Moon approaches.
Dan and I say our fond farewells as I leave the catamaran at Koh Phangan and head back alone into the fray, whilst he continues on to Bangkok for his date with a Thai girl....
Now, did someone say party....?
Daniel, the German guy I'm rooming with, who shall furthermore be referred to as Dan Ze Deutsch, has already been staying at Secret Garden Village for a few weeks so he meets me at the taxi and we head to our bungalow. It's small but sweet and set back from the beach in a forest of palm trees via a dirt track so is blissfully quiet....that is until Daniel informs me that I snore...a lot! Eep! I try to contain my titters when I awake to find him wearing earplugs/headphones/towel over head combo, his pretty-boy face marred by dark circles. I, however, had the best night's sleep of the trip so far...
We spend a few days together on the beach, him sipping soda water, me chugging back Changs like they are going out of fashion. Dan's 28yr old body is a temple....mine is more of an ancient ruin.
It soon becomes apparent that we are chalk and cheese : he hates clubbing, drinking, smoking and all things crazy and well, fun. Or my version of fun anyway. He prefers the gym, chilling out, soft drinks...all things that are alien to me. I stare at him in wonder like he just landed from another planet.
Despite our glaring differences we have a laugh...mostly me ripping him for being boring, him making jibes about my age, drinking habits etc. One morning we are having a delicious Full English at Sairee Sairee when Diarmid, one of my Irish party pals who've been on the same island-hopping route as me throughout my trip, comes lumbering up, obviously still on one from the night before. Plonking himself down, dodgy braid trailing past his ear, beer dangling from his limp hand, he regales us with tales of the previous night's exploits, which culminated in a full-on fight with a bunch of ladyboys who he'd witnessed hitting a girl after she muttered some throwaway insult at them as she passed them in the street. A group of lads had had to jump in to defend the girl, who was crying as they sucker-punched her and attempted to throw their stilettos at her head. Hell hath no fury like a she-he scorned...
Diarmid and Kieron are leaving on a mission of a journey via planes, trains and automobiles for Bangkok in a few hours, so Diarmid demands that we have a farewell drink...so my English breakfast is promptly washed down with 2 sambucas and a Chang, much to the horror of Dan Ze Deutsch. He then slobbers a kiss in my direction and stumbles off in the vague direction of his hotel and what will probably be the most painful 12hr journey of his life, and for that of all his fellow travellers, no doubt.
We spend the day at Aow Leuk, which is a beautiful cove with crystal-clear warm sea and our white sand, and spot some small sharks, trigger fish and other underwater wonders....well Dan spots them, my eyesight is not quite so sharp after the morning's boozy brekkie. I bump into Nina and Chris in the sea, the Austrians who we got fully-loaded on Shrooms Shakes a week earlier. I stifle a laugh as Nina tells me the shakes were duds and had zero effect on them both. Are you kidding me, I feel like saying, remembering the wild-eyed frantic dancing of that night's escapades. The biggest lightweights in town are saying it had no effect....why oh why did I not get photographic evidence....ha!
Koh Tao is more pricey and with higher-quality restaurants than Phangan, so we have several lip-smacking meals. Barracuda takes bookings, such is it's popularity, but we manage to slip in slyly without a reservation before heading to a fire show on the beach, where there are several 'hairy' moments as the fire-dancing Thai boys swirled their weighted chains of fire around Dan's head, who happens to be sporting approximately half a can of hairspray to achieve that Beckham-perfect style. I don't fancy witnessing his chiselled features burst into flames so we make a move after the 10th time they attempt it and I drag him kicking and screaming into a ladyboy show. There's something strangely hilarious about a Thai ladyboy dressed as Christina Aguilera, resplendent in thigh-high patent boots and a huge blonde wig placed at a jaunty angle on his/her head, gyrating just slightly out of time and miming badly because they have no clue what the actual words are....
It is not lost on me that whilst the UK is commemorating the start of WW1 and lighting candles of remembrance, I'm fraternising with the enemy, so we make light of it as best we can : Dan emerges from the bathroom with his perfect stubble shaved into a Hitler tache...but freaks when I try to take a picture. I wind him up throughout our stay by referring to him loudly as 'my husband' in public, which drives him mad, especially when he's trying to ogle the many nubile young girls within earlobe-licking distance....
On the last day in Koh Tao we are due to go the Muay Thai boxing at the local stadium, but I'm feeling sick as a dog and we have to go back. Seeing as I hadn't had a single drink that day I can only assume that the 40% proof Sangsom had previously been killing off the bacteria featering in my gut, and the sudden withdrawal had caused my tapeworm (or whatever parasite I'm probably cultivating) to panic and cause an intestinal kerfuffle.
Being in Koh Tao with such relaxed company feels like someone yanked up the handbrake on my partying, so it is with mixed feelings that I gather my things and leave the bungalow to head back to Koh Phangan, ready for the retox as Full Moon approaches.
Dan and I say our fond farewells as I leave the catamaran at Koh Phangan and head back alone into the fray, whilst he continues on to Bangkok for his date with a Thai girl....
Now, did someone say party....?
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