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’!