Dave...what are you doing?!
December 26, 2004
Full Moon Party
I roused Sleeping Beauty at 4pm and we made our way about 10km up the coast to Lamai, where Jonny and Suki were staying. As we were walking down the road to their resort I noticed something crazy on a TV screen in a bar we were walking passed. We stopped to watch BBC News 24…and that was literally the first we’d heard of the Tsunami. It seemed a little unreal to think of a tidal wave hitting less than 100 miles away – especially as we hadn’t noticed a thing. It certainly didn’t sink in straight away and, after a couple of minutes, we sauntered off down the road and continued jabbering excitedly about the Full Moon Party. Ten minutes or so later, we both realised that if it was on BBC News 24, it was bound to be on the terrestrial news back at home. Fortunately, Dave had his mobile with him and we both sent a couple of re-assuring text messages home to our families. Worried that mine might not have got through, I phoned a little later, to discover that my message had been the first my mother had heard about it…of course, now everyone at home was glued to the news coverage. Looking back on it, I think tourists in the Gulf of Thailand hadn’t really grasped the gravity of events on the other side of the peninsula in the Andaman Sea. The Thais seem peculiarly undemonstrative in situations like this and we found it hard to connect the images on the television with a reality that was less than two hours away, when the local people seemed so calm. Certainly, there was no darkening of the party atmosphere on Samui and, after we were sure our families wouldn’t be worried about us, it was easy to slip into beach mode. We had a happy re-union with Jonny and Suki – more gifts and cards from home – and the setting sun and Singha beer seemed like a perfect pre-club combination. With our mini clubbing family and the prospect of a night’s dancing (albeit on the sand), I imagined myself in the Ruby Lounge – and the familiar butterflies were fluttering round my stomach in anticipation of a great night ahead.
We all jumped in a songthaew for the half-hour ride up to the north of the island to catch our speedboat over to Ko Pha Ngan. We arrived just too late for the 7pm boat but managed to find a restaurant near the pier to boost our energy reserves for the coming exertions. I suspect Dave, Jonny and Suki must have been a little over-whelmed by the continuous stream of verbal diarrhoea spewing from my mouth…of course, having not seen anyone from home in nearly three months, there was a lot to catch up on. More than discovering simple facts though, it was blissful to be able to be entirely me. I mean this in the sense that these three know me, know who I’m talking about and when I’m joking or being serious. When I meet new people, it always takes me a while to really let my guard down…for no other reason than for fear of offending people who don’t understand my sense of humour. Just being able to relax and spout off was very pleasurable…and I certainly didn’t hold back!
Eventually, the guys were saved from the tiring task of conversation with my gabbling as we stepped onto our speedboat. There were three enormous outboard engines hanging off the stern - and when those bad boys kicked in, conversation was limited to the occasional shout and whoop as we clung on for our lives and tried to hold insane grins on our faces against the whipping wind and g-forces. We stepped onto the pier at Haad Rin, breathless and pumped full of adrenaline – as a means of preparing for a night’s strenuous dance-floor manoeuvres, I’d recommend it to anyone! We made our way down some hideously garish narrow lanes that looked like they’d been teleported directly from San Antonio, Ibiza: pizza shops, kebab stalls, internet cafes and photo-developing booths jostled for position and business from the hordes of wideboys and wenches from every party-loving nation on earth. Dulcet Mancunian and Scouse accents mingled with Tel-Avivi and French; boardies and wife-beaters, uniform for the boys; bikini tops and denim skirts for the girls. The place was making my skin crawl somewhat and it was a relief to finally get to the Full-Moon beach…only to find that the party was a long way from starting. I’d arranged with Joe (Aussie guy from the boat) to meet at Cactus bar at 11pm, which was a good way off. Dave and I were also keen to get our accommodation on Ko Pha Ngan sorted out as we were planning to spend a couple of days at Haad Yuan, on the recommendation of our friends Kris and Eliot back home. We arranged to meet Jonny and Suki at Cactus for 11, and went to find a boat taxi to take us round the headland to secluded Haad Yuan. It was a relief to escape from the filthy streets and I looked forward to returning to the beach when the party had got going.
Round on Haad Yuan, we were able to get more of a sense of the Ko Pha Ngan we were looking for. This little cove with its steeply shelving beach and palm-fringed shore was completely isolated from the hurly-burly around the headland – the steep, forested hills on this eastern side of the island having precluded the building of any roads. The only way to get there was either to walk or to arrive by boat taxi as we had. We located the Big Blue resort and found that we were able to book two bungalows from the following day. The owner, Joey, remembered Kris and Eliot and we settled down for a beer and a chat, whilst soaking up the laid-back atmosphere. A little later, we walked back down to the boat, to find that we were to be accompanied by another 15 party-goers on their way to Haad Rin. I tried not to laugh at the girls, wearing lovely clean clothes and with freshly coiffured hair. Dancing on the beach with buckets of drink and exposed to the elements is never an environment for those too-concerned with the way they look. It didn’t take long for the party-gods to have a laugh at their expense either. In the two minutes it took us to break free of the pounding surf, our heavily laden boat was swamped by several gallons of salty brine. Freshly pressed skirts and little vest tops became grotty beachwear of several days use and shiny, well-managed tresses began to curl together and knot. Despite night having fallen several hours previously, the air was still close and I, for one, was glad of the cooling spray. While Dave and I were enjoying the ocean’s playful attention, these poor little princesses were left bemoaning their misfortune…which, of course, only caused us to grin even more.
As we cut through the swell towards Haad Rin’s Full Moon Beach, the sound of a throbbing bassline came pounding out across the ocean towards us. The whole length of the beach was lit up with the entire spectrum of coloured lights as each bar and sound-system did its utmost to entice the throng of revellers. Nearing the beach, individual tunes blended together into a wall of sound, bouncing off the surface of the sea and confusing our ears with their sheer brute force. The whole scene, with cheering revellers and smiling faces, was like an adult Disneyland after too many tequilas. To describe the atmosphere with a single word wouldn’t do it justice, but at a squeeze ‘hedonism’ would do. There was an almost frenetic desire to enjoy; an impatient energy willing everyone to forget their worries and plunge headlong into the insane enjoyment of the Moon-God’s celebration. There was certainly no hint that a terrible disaster had occurred nearby.
The Cactus Bar, had transformed itself (much to our horror!) from a sports bar showing premiership football into a hideously garish R&B bar. As Dave and I approached to find Jonny and Suki, we were almost brought to our knees by the horrendous music blaring out of the enormous sound system. If there’s one thing neither of us can stand, it’s ruddy Snoop Doggy Dawg…that and a bar full of people actually enjoying such ear-dung. We split up to find them quicker, but should have known that they’d never have subjected their ears to such painful torture. We eventually found them hovering outside the front door, peering up and down the street with pained expressions on their faces. To my surprise and delight, Joe was also there and the five of us high-tailed it down the beach to somewhere a little less offensive.
Drink of the day at Full Moon parties is the infamous Saemsong bucket. A half-bottle of Saemsong (the local whiskey/rum firewater), a bottle of the local Red Bull (yes, a bottle…a small brown bottle, looking suspiciously like it should be obtained from a pharmacy…with a prescription!) and some plain, ordinary coca-cola. This somewhat(!) sweet concoction is poured over a mountain of ice into a child’s sand-pail and furnished with a handful of drinking straws for garnish. The beach is full to over-flowing with young ladies and gentlemen carrying these dainty receptacles around whilst walking gracefully from one musical establishment to the next. Oh, I’m sorry…what I meant to say was: Everywhere we looked drunken wrecks were stumbling from one pounding bass-beat to the next – buckets sloshing, uncontrollably, onto the sand and passers-by alike. Unlike your average drunk, however, these guys were far from comatose. In fact, they all seemed to have the same wild-eyed, alert, intensity. We looked at each other as if to say, ‘When in Rome…’ – and promptly got a round of buckets in. Soon enough, Dave and I had our glowsticks and glow necklaces fired up (pressies from Sue, the little legend!) and Jonny was soon flashing and glowing with an assortment of those cheap electrical baubles that are always so fascinating and necessary when you’re hammered at a big outdoor gig.
I’d be lying if I claimed to be able to pin-point when the remainder of the night became a blur. It was certainly long after we’d had drunken declarations of love for each other; it was also quite a long time after Dave and I had taken a fancy to some rocks on an offshore reef, where we clambered out and sat for a break from the sound-clashes emanating from the competing systems; however, it wasn’t too long after the torrential downpour that had the less committed revellers screaming and running for cover. Joe, Dave and I managed to lose Jonny and Suki at this point, which put a slight dampener on affairs and it wasn’t too much longer before the three of us lost touch – although, not before one memorable moment, when I practically begged for a puff on a Cuban cigar from this absolutely stunning Hungarian girl…and promptly spent the next five minutes turning a disturbing shade of green, coughing violently and struggling against a strong urge to vomit. The whole event was an insane crazy giggle but still left me feeling somewhat disappointed. A big part of this was the poor choice of music – it was either vomit-inducing R&B or pounding, ear-bleeding techno…there was nothing in between…and certainly no trance. A little more of it was the sense that you almost had to be wasted to be capable of enjoying yourself…there were no swanky leather sofas to kick back and relax in…no leafy, sheltered areas to escape the hectic dancefloor…nor clean, cool toilets to splash water on your face. In short, it wasn’t The Cross…it was dirty, exposed to the elements, hectic and utterly relentless…and we had one hell of a time! With a belly-fire of Saemsong and the company of good comrades, it was unthinkable that we wouldn’t enjoy ourselves. Hanging out with friends on the beach, 8000 miles from home was fantastic…and an experience I’ll never forget. The Full Moon party itself was just ‘an experience’!
We all jumped in a songthaew for the half-hour ride up to the north of the island to catch our speedboat over to Ko Pha Ngan. We arrived just too late for the 7pm boat but managed to find a restaurant near the pier to boost our energy reserves for the coming exertions. I suspect Dave, Jonny and Suki must have been a little over-whelmed by the continuous stream of verbal diarrhoea spewing from my mouth…of course, having not seen anyone from home in nearly three months, there was a lot to catch up on. More than discovering simple facts though, it was blissful to be able to be entirely me. I mean this in the sense that these three know me, know who I’m talking about and when I’m joking or being serious. When I meet new people, it always takes me a while to really let my guard down…for no other reason than for fear of offending people who don’t understand my sense of humour. Just being able to relax and spout off was very pleasurable…and I certainly didn’t hold back!
Eventually, the guys were saved from the tiring task of conversation with my gabbling as we stepped onto our speedboat. There were three enormous outboard engines hanging off the stern - and when those bad boys kicked in, conversation was limited to the occasional shout and whoop as we clung on for our lives and tried to hold insane grins on our faces against the whipping wind and g-forces. We stepped onto the pier at Haad Rin, breathless and pumped full of adrenaline – as a means of preparing for a night’s strenuous dance-floor manoeuvres, I’d recommend it to anyone! We made our way down some hideously garish narrow lanes that looked like they’d been teleported directly from San Antonio, Ibiza: pizza shops, kebab stalls, internet cafes and photo-developing booths jostled for position and business from the hordes of wideboys and wenches from every party-loving nation on earth. Dulcet Mancunian and Scouse accents mingled with Tel-Avivi and French; boardies and wife-beaters, uniform for the boys; bikini tops and denim skirts for the girls. The place was making my skin crawl somewhat and it was a relief to finally get to the Full-Moon beach…only to find that the party was a long way from starting. I’d arranged with Joe (Aussie guy from the boat) to meet at Cactus bar at 11pm, which was a good way off. Dave and I were also keen to get our accommodation on Ko Pha Ngan sorted out as we were planning to spend a couple of days at Haad Yuan, on the recommendation of our friends Kris and Eliot back home. We arranged to meet Jonny and Suki at Cactus for 11, and went to find a boat taxi to take us round the headland to secluded Haad Yuan. It was a relief to escape from the filthy streets and I looked forward to returning to the beach when the party had got going.
Round on Haad Yuan, we were able to get more of a sense of the Ko Pha Ngan we were looking for. This little cove with its steeply shelving beach and palm-fringed shore was completely isolated from the hurly-burly around the headland – the steep, forested hills on this eastern side of the island having precluded the building of any roads. The only way to get there was either to walk or to arrive by boat taxi as we had. We located the Big Blue resort and found that we were able to book two bungalows from the following day. The owner, Joey, remembered Kris and Eliot and we settled down for a beer and a chat, whilst soaking up the laid-back atmosphere. A little later, we walked back down to the boat, to find that we were to be accompanied by another 15 party-goers on their way to Haad Rin. I tried not to laugh at the girls, wearing lovely clean clothes and with freshly coiffured hair. Dancing on the beach with buckets of drink and exposed to the elements is never an environment for those too-concerned with the way they look. It didn’t take long for the party-gods to have a laugh at their expense either. In the two minutes it took us to break free of the pounding surf, our heavily laden boat was swamped by several gallons of salty brine. Freshly pressed skirts and little vest tops became grotty beachwear of several days use and shiny, well-managed tresses began to curl together and knot. Despite night having fallen several hours previously, the air was still close and I, for one, was glad of the cooling spray. While Dave and I were enjoying the ocean’s playful attention, these poor little princesses were left bemoaning their misfortune…which, of course, only caused us to grin even more.
As we cut through the swell towards Haad Rin’s Full Moon Beach, the sound of a throbbing bassline came pounding out across the ocean towards us. The whole length of the beach was lit up with the entire spectrum of coloured lights as each bar and sound-system did its utmost to entice the throng of revellers. Nearing the beach, individual tunes blended together into a wall of sound, bouncing off the surface of the sea and confusing our ears with their sheer brute force. The whole scene, with cheering revellers and smiling faces, was like an adult Disneyland after too many tequilas. To describe the atmosphere with a single word wouldn’t do it justice, but at a squeeze ‘hedonism’ would do. There was an almost frenetic desire to enjoy; an impatient energy willing everyone to forget their worries and plunge headlong into the insane enjoyment of the Moon-God’s celebration. There was certainly no hint that a terrible disaster had occurred nearby.
The Cactus Bar, had transformed itself (much to our horror!) from a sports bar showing premiership football into a hideously garish R&B bar. As Dave and I approached to find Jonny and Suki, we were almost brought to our knees by the horrendous music blaring out of the enormous sound system. If there’s one thing neither of us can stand, it’s ruddy Snoop Doggy Dawg…that and a bar full of people actually enjoying such ear-dung. We split up to find them quicker, but should have known that they’d never have subjected their ears to such painful torture. We eventually found them hovering outside the front door, peering up and down the street with pained expressions on their faces. To my surprise and delight, Joe was also there and the five of us high-tailed it down the beach to somewhere a little less offensive.
Drink of the day at Full Moon parties is the infamous Saemsong bucket. A half-bottle of Saemsong (the local whiskey/rum firewater), a bottle of the local Red Bull (yes, a bottle…a small brown bottle, looking suspiciously like it should be obtained from a pharmacy…with a prescription!) and some plain, ordinary coca-cola. This somewhat(!) sweet concoction is poured over a mountain of ice into a child’s sand-pail and furnished with a handful of drinking straws for garnish. The beach is full to over-flowing with young ladies and gentlemen carrying these dainty receptacles around whilst walking gracefully from one musical establishment to the next. Oh, I’m sorry…what I meant to say was: Everywhere we looked drunken wrecks were stumbling from one pounding bass-beat to the next – buckets sloshing, uncontrollably, onto the sand and passers-by alike. Unlike your average drunk, however, these guys were far from comatose. In fact, they all seemed to have the same wild-eyed, alert, intensity. We looked at each other as if to say, ‘When in Rome…’ – and promptly got a round of buckets in. Soon enough, Dave and I had our glowsticks and glow necklaces fired up (pressies from Sue, the little legend!) and Jonny was soon flashing and glowing with an assortment of those cheap electrical baubles that are always so fascinating and necessary when you’re hammered at a big outdoor gig.
I’d be lying if I claimed to be able to pin-point when the remainder of the night became a blur. It was certainly long after we’d had drunken declarations of love for each other; it was also quite a long time after Dave and I had taken a fancy to some rocks on an offshore reef, where we clambered out and sat for a break from the sound-clashes emanating from the competing systems; however, it wasn’t too long after the torrential downpour that had the less committed revellers screaming and running for cover. Joe, Dave and I managed to lose Jonny and Suki at this point, which put a slight dampener on affairs and it wasn’t too much longer before the three of us lost touch – although, not before one memorable moment, when I practically begged for a puff on a Cuban cigar from this absolutely stunning Hungarian girl…and promptly spent the next five minutes turning a disturbing shade of green, coughing violently and struggling against a strong urge to vomit. The whole event was an insane crazy giggle but still left me feeling somewhat disappointed. A big part of this was the poor choice of music – it was either vomit-inducing R&B or pounding, ear-bleeding techno…there was nothing in between…and certainly no trance. A little more of it was the sense that you almost had to be wasted to be capable of enjoying yourself…there were no swanky leather sofas to kick back and relax in…no leafy, sheltered areas to escape the hectic dancefloor…nor clean, cool toilets to splash water on your face. In short, it wasn’t The Cross…it was dirty, exposed to the elements, hectic and utterly relentless…and we had one hell of a time! With a belly-fire of Saemsong and the company of good comrades, it was unthinkable that we wouldn’t enjoy ourselves. Hanging out with friends on the beach, 8000 miles from home was fantastic…and an experience I’ll never forget. The Full Moon party itself was just ‘an experience’!
The Best Day Since I Left Home
We pulled into Surrathani station at 7am and, as soon as I’d dumped my bags on the shuttle bus that would take us to the boat pier for Samui, I ran across the road to make a phonecall that I’d spent half the night worrying about. Dave’s mobile rang with a foreign tone, so that was a good start. When he answered, I immediately demanded, ‘Where are you?’
He replied, ‘In the taxi from the airport.’
‘Which airport?’ I fired back, waiting with bated breath.
‘Samui…’
The local populace and several busloads of travellers heading for the Full Moon Party were probably a little taken aback by the delighted whoops emanating from the phonebox. I can honestly say that, after the previous 24 hours, I was completely ecstatic. The party was going ahead…and by God, I was going to enjoy it.
The bus, boat and taxi journey to our beach bungalow resort seemed to take forever. I met some lovely (and crazy) people on the boat, one of whom, Joe from Melbourne, I swapped e-mails with. They all seemed like good people to party with, but I just wanted to get to Samui and see Dave.
Eventually, I was there and poor Dave was sleeping like a baby. I thought about leaving him to it, but containing my excitement would have been like damming the Mekong with a couple of bamboo poles in the rainy season. So instead, I scared the crap out of him by bellowing ‘Sweet as a nut!’ at the top of my voice and jumping on his bed. The next half-hour was every bit as exciting as Christmas when I was a wide-eyed 5year-old. Cards, letters, photos and presents, all sent by the people who love me and delivered by my own little brother. After I’d torn off every shred of wrapping paper, I sat there like a pig in muck, chowing down on Cadbury’s Dairy Milk and staring at my mountain of gifts. I left Dave to get some more sleep and disappeared to read my cards and letters, whilst listening to his latest mix cd ‘Euphonious’. Uplifting trance, exquisitely mixed (God, that boy has a future!) and accompanied by letters from home, had me sitting there in a euphoric stupor, silly grin on my face and tears in my eyes. I always say you need to appreciate the lows to truly appreciate the highs. Every second of Christmas Day had been worth it to make this moment feel so good. To everybody who sent me presents or thoughts, thank you…you helped to make me a very happy man. And the day had hardly begun…the prospect of meeting up with two more friends from home (Jonny and Suki – members of our clubbing family back in London) and the renowned Full Moon Party on Ko Pha Ngan were still to come.
He replied, ‘In the taxi from the airport.’
‘Which airport?’ I fired back, waiting with bated breath.
‘Samui…’
The local populace and several busloads of travellers heading for the Full Moon Party were probably a little taken aback by the delighted whoops emanating from the phonebox. I can honestly say that, after the previous 24 hours, I was completely ecstatic. The party was going ahead…and by God, I was going to enjoy it.
The bus, boat and taxi journey to our beach bungalow resort seemed to take forever. I met some lovely (and crazy) people on the boat, one of whom, Joe from Melbourne, I swapped e-mails with. They all seemed like good people to party with, but I just wanted to get to Samui and see Dave.
Eventually, I was there and poor Dave was sleeping like a baby. I thought about leaving him to it, but containing my excitement would have been like damming the Mekong with a couple of bamboo poles in the rainy season. So instead, I scared the crap out of him by bellowing ‘Sweet as a nut!’ at the top of my voice and jumping on his bed. The next half-hour was every bit as exciting as Christmas when I was a wide-eyed 5year-old. Cards, letters, photos and presents, all sent by the people who love me and delivered by my own little brother. After I’d torn off every shred of wrapping paper, I sat there like a pig in muck, chowing down on Cadbury’s Dairy Milk and staring at my mountain of gifts. I left Dave to get some more sleep and disappeared to read my cards and letters, whilst listening to his latest mix cd ‘Euphonious’. Uplifting trance, exquisitely mixed (God, that boy has a future!) and accompanied by letters from home, had me sitting there in a euphoric stupor, silly grin on my face and tears in my eyes. I always say you need to appreciate the lows to truly appreciate the highs. Every second of Christmas Day had been worth it to make this moment feel so good. To everybody who sent me presents or thoughts, thank you…you helped to make me a very happy man. And the day had hardly begun…the prospect of meeting up with two more friends from home (Jonny and Suki – members of our clubbing family back in London) and the renowned Full Moon Party on Ko Pha Ngan were still to come.
December 25, 2004
The Worst Day Since I Left Home
Christmas Day was all about going to the airport: Once in the morning to try and confirm that Dave’s flight was still arriving in the early hours of Boxing Day as promise; and again in the afternoon with Harry, whose boyfriend had managed to book another flight to arrive at 3pm.
I cheered myself up a bit by calling everyone at home to wish them a Merry Christmas, but I was lonely – and more than a little sad – as I sat in my 1st class train compartment, looking at Dave’s empty seat as we pulled out of Bangkok station.
I cheered myself up a bit by calling everyone at home to wish them a Merry Christmas, but I was lonely – and more than a little sad – as I sat in my 1st class train compartment, looking at Dave’s empty seat as we pulled out of Bangkok station.
December 24, 2004
Christmas Cancelled
Christmas Eve dawned bright and sunny – temperatures approaching 30 degrees Celsius and (unsurprisingly) I didn’t feel myself missing the British winter – nor the awful pop music, crap television and frenetic commercialised pressure of Christmas shopping. As the day wore on, things just kept getting better: picked up the train tickets (for me and my best mate Dave, who was due to arrive in Bangkok on Christmas morning) for Samui without any trouble; found free wireless internet access and had several long pleasant msn chats with friends back home; and then discovered that Harry – one of the British girls from Serendipity Beach – was in town and arranged to meet her for Christmas Eve drinks on the infamous Khao San Road. The only slight downer was that Harry was a bit upset because her boyfriend’s flight from London had been delayed by a day and he wasn’t going to make it to Bangkok until Boxing Day. I thought it was lucky that she’d have a mate to hang out with and keep her spirits up for at least part of the wait. It certainly didn’t occur to me that her boyfriend would be on the same flight as Dave…imagining that he’d have flown from Manchester / Liverpool to a hub like Schipol and caught a connecting flight from there.
We met up that evening and I’d like to think my high spirits were doing a good job of keeping Harry’s mind occupied. It wasn’t long, however, before we’d established that Dave and Jim were actually booked on the same flight. After 2 rapid international phonecalls, my fears were confirmed and I was staring down the barrel of Father Christmas’ doom. I’d been excited about Dave’s arrival, not least in his role as present-deliverer from Blighty, but until that moment of realisation I hadn’t realised how much I was relying on him to connect me with my home, my family and my other friends. I’d enjoyed the previous 3 months immensely and, although I’d whiled away many a quiet moment reminiscing about my loved ones, it was only now that I understood just how much I missed everyone. I was devastated to say the least.
Ever a seeker of practical solutions in situations like this, I immediately went to a travel agent and bought Dave a connecting flight to Samui on Boxing Day morning – Christmas might have been cancelled, but nothing was going to stop us from getting to that Full Moon Party!
Having done as much as I could, I got back to Christmas Eve drinking…but with little gusto. Part of me was wallowing in self-pity, part was feeling for Dave, stuck in a bloody airport for Christmas. Mostly, I was just feeling unsettled because I didn’t know whether his rescheduled flight would make it in time for the big event. Dave missing the Full Moon Party would have completely defeated the object of missing his family Christmas…and I didn’t much fancy going on my own. I sloped off to my hotel two minutes after midnight, wishing Harry a Merry Christmas and arranging to meet for lunch the following day.
We met up that evening and I’d like to think my high spirits were doing a good job of keeping Harry’s mind occupied. It wasn’t long, however, before we’d established that Dave and Jim were actually booked on the same flight. After 2 rapid international phonecalls, my fears were confirmed and I was staring down the barrel of Father Christmas’ doom. I’d been excited about Dave’s arrival, not least in his role as present-deliverer from Blighty, but until that moment of realisation I hadn’t realised how much I was relying on him to connect me with my home, my family and my other friends. I’d enjoyed the previous 3 months immensely and, although I’d whiled away many a quiet moment reminiscing about my loved ones, it was only now that I understood just how much I missed everyone. I was devastated to say the least.
Ever a seeker of practical solutions in situations like this, I immediately went to a travel agent and bought Dave a connecting flight to Samui on Boxing Day morning – Christmas might have been cancelled, but nothing was going to stop us from getting to that Full Moon Party!
Having done as much as I could, I got back to Christmas Eve drinking…but with little gusto. Part of me was wallowing in self-pity, part was feeling for Dave, stuck in a bloody airport for Christmas. Mostly, I was just feeling unsettled because I didn’t know whether his rescheduled flight would make it in time for the big event. Dave missing the Full Moon Party would have completely defeated the object of missing his family Christmas…and I didn’t much fancy going on my own. I sloped off to my hotel two minutes after midnight, wishing Harry a Merry Christmas and arranging to meet for lunch the following day.
December 23, 2004
Thailand - An inauspicious start
Getting to Bangkok from Siem Reap probably appears somewhere in Milton’s seven levels of hell…and if it doesn’t it bloody well should! My guesthouse owner in Siem Reap (Mr. Pol of the Angkor Siem Reap Guesthouse, if anybody happens to be in the vicinity and would like to give him a stiff punch on the nose!) had assured me on selling the ticket – and on several further occasions! – that I would be taking a large, air-conditioned coach all the way from Siem Reap to the border…and another from the border to Bangkok. When a miserable excuse for a minibus arrived at the guest house to pick me up, he also assured me that this was merely transferring me to the bus station. After 6 hours shoe-horned into this (non-air-conditioned!) oven on wheels and bouncing up and down over every pothole crevasse, fissure, Grand Canyon and black hole on the appalling road to Poipet, I had temporarily forgotten all my affection for Cambodia. My mood wasn’t improved by sitting around on the Thai side of the border for 2 hours before the next coach came to pick us up. At least when this one turned up it actually was air-conditioned. I arrived in Bangkok late, tired and in a foul mood!
Fortunately, the hotel I’d decided on had one room left…and it was just up the road from a well-recommended restaurant. The crispy fried chicken with cashew nuts that I devoured at Vijit Restaurant was one of the finest culinary experiences I’ve had on the road. Several bottles of the local Singha beer and, all of a sudden, my days travails didn’t seem so great. The Thai reputation for hospitality was in full evidence and I found myself feeling well-disposed to my new temporary home.
Back at the hotel, things slightly derailed once again when I managed to stop the ceiling fan at warp speed, when pulling my T-shirt over my head. Still, my hand didn’t bleed too much…and the bed was comfortable enough for a good night’s sleep.
Fortunately, the hotel I’d decided on had one room left…and it was just up the road from a well-recommended restaurant. The crispy fried chicken with cashew nuts that I devoured at Vijit Restaurant was one of the finest culinary experiences I’ve had on the road. Several bottles of the local Singha beer and, all of a sudden, my days travails didn’t seem so great. The Thai reputation for hospitality was in full evidence and I found myself feeling well-disposed to my new temporary home.
Back at the hotel, things slightly derailed once again when I managed to stop the ceiling fan at warp speed, when pulling my T-shirt over my head. Still, my hand didn’t bleed too much…and the bed was comfortable enough for a good night’s sleep.
December 22, 2004
Leaving Cambodia
I enjoyed two further days exploring the outlying Angkorian and pre-Angkorian sites. I saw nothing that made as big an impression on me as the places I’d seen on my first day – but the sheer number and scale of the monuments really has to be seen to appreciate what the Khmer God-Kings bequeathed us.
The early-era monuments of the Roluos group, while lacking the fine detail of later constructions, are still resplendent in their beautiful symmetry. The capacity of ancient engineers to move and store water is widely demonstrated throughout the area…long channels, huge reservoirs and ceremonial bathing pools abound.
Banteay Srei, supposedly the site of the most exquisite carving, was a disappointment because large areas (including some of the finest stonework) were cordoned off for restoration work. I didn’t take a trip out to Beng Mealea as I didn't fancy sitting on the back of a bike for the long trip. At the very least, that’s two more reasons to re-visit Angkor.
There are a vast number of international and local restoration projects going on. The French and the Japanese, particularly, seem to be taking the lead and, while more people are inevitably going to come to Angkor, it seems there will be more to see…and perhaps one day it will be possible to see the sights as their architects intended. As for me, nothing made me happier than heading back to Angkor Wat on my final afternoon to see the sun set one last time on her magical walls.
It was also a time to reflect on my Cambodian adventures before my bus journey to Bangkok. Cambodia is an incredible place. As with many parts of the developing world, there is abject poverty juxtaposed with extravagant wealth. Unfortunately, this legacy has come from the organisations trying to help the country back on its feet. The massive influx of UN-workers and a variety of NGOs with well-paid staffers has served to create a dual economy, where the poor don’t really seem to benefit from the rich tourist dollar. More than anywhere else I’ve been, the shocking lack of infrastructure away from the main tourist routes makes rural Cambodia seem very wild and remote. I truly got a sense of the ‘road less travelled’ when I ventured into the northern hills. Serendipity Beach was like being back in the Philippines. Angkor lived up to my wildest expectations. Ultimately, though, in a country with such a disturbing recent past (and living with the legacy of its un-cleared landmines) the warm-hearts and smiling faces of the Khmer people are what made my sojourn here so pleasant. To have lived through what these people lived through and to still be capable of generosity, trust and kindness is truly amazing. Cambodia, above all the places I’ve visited on this journey, has a special place in my heart. I will definitely be back.
The early-era monuments of the Roluos group, while lacking the fine detail of later constructions, are still resplendent in their beautiful symmetry. The capacity of ancient engineers to move and store water is widely demonstrated throughout the area…long channels, huge reservoirs and ceremonial bathing pools abound.
Banteay Srei, supposedly the site of the most exquisite carving, was a disappointment because large areas (including some of the finest stonework) were cordoned off for restoration work. I didn’t take a trip out to Beng Mealea as I didn't fancy sitting on the back of a bike for the long trip. At the very least, that’s two more reasons to re-visit Angkor.
There are a vast number of international and local restoration projects going on. The French and the Japanese, particularly, seem to be taking the lead and, while more people are inevitably going to come to Angkor, it seems there will be more to see…and perhaps one day it will be possible to see the sights as their architects intended. As for me, nothing made me happier than heading back to Angkor Wat on my final afternoon to see the sun set one last time on her magical walls.
It was also a time to reflect on my Cambodian adventures before my bus journey to Bangkok. Cambodia is an incredible place. As with many parts of the developing world, there is abject poverty juxtaposed with extravagant wealth. Unfortunately, this legacy has come from the organisations trying to help the country back on its feet. The massive influx of UN-workers and a variety of NGOs with well-paid staffers has served to create a dual economy, where the poor don’t really seem to benefit from the rich tourist dollar. More than anywhere else I’ve been, the shocking lack of infrastructure away from the main tourist routes makes rural Cambodia seem very wild and remote. I truly got a sense of the ‘road less travelled’ when I ventured into the northern hills. Serendipity Beach was like being back in the Philippines. Angkor lived up to my wildest expectations. Ultimately, though, in a country with such a disturbing recent past (and living with the legacy of its un-cleared landmines) the warm-hearts and smiling faces of the Khmer people are what made my sojourn here so pleasant. To have lived through what these people lived through and to still be capable of generosity, trust and kindness is truly amazing. Cambodia, above all the places I’ve visited on this journey, has a special place in my heart. I will definitely be back.
December 21, 2004
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