Chiang Mai (Lanna) temple architecture
January 02, 2005
Chiang Mai
After a week of beach-life, I was really keen to have Dave see a different side to Thailand and hopefully to experience the traveller vibe as opposed to the tourist. I had wanted to come trekking in Chiang Mai on the recommendations of fellow travellers. I also figured that we would likely meet a crowd of people whilst doing it…and meeting other travellers is a big part of the experience.
We got out of bed late in the afternoon and found a restaurant serving authentic northern Thai dishes with sticky rice. As well as many excellent forms of sausage and spicy pork, I also tucked into a spicy, yet refreshing, papaya salad. A little later, we took a browse round the stalls of the city’s famous night bazaar – hoping to find gifts to send home for friends and family. Inevitably, of course, we bought more things for ourselves than for anyone else. By the end of the evening Dave was just about getting the hang of the bartering thing and we were soon loaded up with fishermen’s pants and hippy shirts. After our long journey and exhausting partying, we ended up going for a massage before hitting the hay. The guy who did my massage was excellent – putting his knee in my back and even cracking my neck – Dave’s girl, however, was apparently useless – treating him far too gently. Nearer the end, my guy started asking suspicious questions like ‘Would you like lady come finish massage?’ and, rather than burst out laughing, I answered dead-pan that he was doing an excellent job and why change? He seemed to think I hadn’t understood him and continued to flog it like a dead horse with all kinds of winking, nudging and Roger Moore eyebrow stunts. Eventually, though, I think he realised that I actually just wanted a massage and he gave up.
We got back to our guesthouse and, after a nightcap on the balcony, we went to sleep like babies…or at least one of us did. Poor Dave was kept awake most of the night by my snoring and he certainly wasn’t in the mood for jumping out of bed when the bright sunshine started beating on our eyelids. I was inclined to explore the city while the day was young and the sun at its weakest, but Dave needed to catch up on the sleep I’d robbed him of and I ended up wading through a huge backlog of e-mails that had built up while we’d been incommunicado on Haad Yuan.
We eventually wondered into town around lunch time, looking first for the Red Cross station to give blood. There were signs up at the guesthouse, telling us we could find it at the Tha Phae Gate, but all we could find when we got there was the Sunday market. We asked several Westerners and even a policeman, but to no avail and in the end we presumed that it was closed for the market…or they’d already stopped needing blood supplies for the tourists that had been caught in the disaster.
(Apparently, the vast majority of Thais are Rhesus positive, where most tourists are negative – it could be the other way round but, whatever the technicalities, they were appealing for other westerners to give blood to help fellow tourists.)
Stymied by the disappearance of the Red Cross, we went to a café for another sampling of the local, northern cuisine. More sausages and tempura vegetables were the order of the day and several delicious sticks of satay washed down with cold Singha had us fortified for a little cultural sight-seeing.
We took a tour of some of the more prominent Wats and found the temple architecture similar to the modern-day wats in Cambodia, but more brightly adorned and richly gilded. Brightly coloured mosaics of glass and gold would seem gaudy and out of place back at home, but here amongst the bright clothes and colourful cuisine of Thailand, the temples seem to be the outward expression of the cheerful Thai spirit. One of the temples contained some basic history of Buddha and the growth of the religion, explaining the different Buddha poses and relating them to historical events in his life. It was fascinating to learn a little about this religion that seems to permeate the Thais’ very way of life and it was impossible not to feel a calming presence in the cool, quiet shade of the temple. The respectful peace that reigns in each wihan is a welcome escape from the hustle and bustle of the streets.
We got sucked into a commission scam by a tuk-tuk driver (he gets paid a commission for bringing tourists to expensive shops), but I was mildly interested in investigating the Thai hard-sell method and quite happy to go along with the flow until I got bored and wanted to leave. First port of call was a Thai silk factory, showing everything from the production through silkworms, through collecting the thread and weaving the cloth. This was all fascinating but when it came to wandering through the shop at the end, the prices were so grossly inflated that we took to our heels before one of the sales assistants could latch on to us. I was trying to get the taxi-driver to take us back into town immediately but he started moaning about how much petrol he’d used and how we had to go to at least one more shop for him. I went to the carpet shop more out of interest than obligation though, as I felt he should have been more honest with us in the first place.
The carpet shop proved to be a veritable Aladdin’s Cave of woven treasures. Our gracious salesman, Salim, was hospitable and extremely skilled at his job. However, it was the sheer beauty and quality of his wares that had me entranced and it was only a matter of finding the right price before we made a deal. I don’t claim to be an expert on Kashmir woollen carpets, but my eventual purchase looked of the highest quality to me…and I’m sure I’ll get the official verdict from my parents when Dave has delivered it back home.
We headed back to the guesthouse to finalise our plans and ended up booking a 3 day / 2 night trek and purchasing 2nd class sleeper tickets for Thursday night’s train to Ayuthaya. That left us with a day and a night in Bangkok before Dave’s flight home on the Saturday evening.
We headed into town for dinner at an up-market restaurant with more of the heavily spiced local dishes on the menu. We then managed to find a bar with a pool table where the bar staff only served drinks as opposed to anything of a more intimate nature. This is a lot more difficult than it sounds in Chiang Mai…and we had to put up with several leery old men pawing at our waitress and generally making a nuisance of themselves before they sloped off to somewhere with more accommodating staff. Eventually – after sending the cue-ball off the table, into the street and, finally, into the canal, we decided to call it a night and headed back to get some sleep before our trek. This time I wore the amazing anti-snoring headband (another great Christmas present from home and, I suspect, one more for Dave’s benefit than mine) which, miraculously, seemed to work so we both had a good night’s kip.
We got out of bed late in the afternoon and found a restaurant serving authentic northern Thai dishes with sticky rice. As well as many excellent forms of sausage and spicy pork, I also tucked into a spicy, yet refreshing, papaya salad. A little later, we took a browse round the stalls of the city’s famous night bazaar – hoping to find gifts to send home for friends and family. Inevitably, of course, we bought more things for ourselves than for anyone else. By the end of the evening Dave was just about getting the hang of the bartering thing and we were soon loaded up with fishermen’s pants and hippy shirts. After our long journey and exhausting partying, we ended up going for a massage before hitting the hay. The guy who did my massage was excellent – putting his knee in my back and even cracking my neck – Dave’s girl, however, was apparently useless – treating him far too gently. Nearer the end, my guy started asking suspicious questions like ‘Would you like lady come finish massage?’ and, rather than burst out laughing, I answered dead-pan that he was doing an excellent job and why change? He seemed to think I hadn’t understood him and continued to flog it like a dead horse with all kinds of winking, nudging and Roger Moore eyebrow stunts. Eventually, though, I think he realised that I actually just wanted a massage and he gave up.
We got back to our guesthouse and, after a nightcap on the balcony, we went to sleep like babies…or at least one of us did. Poor Dave was kept awake most of the night by my snoring and he certainly wasn’t in the mood for jumping out of bed when the bright sunshine started beating on our eyelids. I was inclined to explore the city while the day was young and the sun at its weakest, but Dave needed to catch up on the sleep I’d robbed him of and I ended up wading through a huge backlog of e-mails that had built up while we’d been incommunicado on Haad Yuan.
We eventually wondered into town around lunch time, looking first for the Red Cross station to give blood. There were signs up at the guesthouse, telling us we could find it at the Tha Phae Gate, but all we could find when we got there was the Sunday market. We asked several Westerners and even a policeman, but to no avail and in the end we presumed that it was closed for the market…or they’d already stopped needing blood supplies for the tourists that had been caught in the disaster.
(Apparently, the vast majority of Thais are Rhesus positive, where most tourists are negative – it could be the other way round but, whatever the technicalities, they were appealing for other westerners to give blood to help fellow tourists.)
Stymied by the disappearance of the Red Cross, we went to a café for another sampling of the local, northern cuisine. More sausages and tempura vegetables were the order of the day and several delicious sticks of satay washed down with cold Singha had us fortified for a little cultural sight-seeing.
We took a tour of some of the more prominent Wats and found the temple architecture similar to the modern-day wats in Cambodia, but more brightly adorned and richly gilded. Brightly coloured mosaics of glass and gold would seem gaudy and out of place back at home, but here amongst the bright clothes and colourful cuisine of Thailand, the temples seem to be the outward expression of the cheerful Thai spirit. One of the temples contained some basic history of Buddha and the growth of the religion, explaining the different Buddha poses and relating them to historical events in his life. It was fascinating to learn a little about this religion that seems to permeate the Thais’ very way of life and it was impossible not to feel a calming presence in the cool, quiet shade of the temple. The respectful peace that reigns in each wihan is a welcome escape from the hustle and bustle of the streets.
We got sucked into a commission scam by a tuk-tuk driver (he gets paid a commission for bringing tourists to expensive shops), but I was mildly interested in investigating the Thai hard-sell method and quite happy to go along with the flow until I got bored and wanted to leave. First port of call was a Thai silk factory, showing everything from the production through silkworms, through collecting the thread and weaving the cloth. This was all fascinating but when it came to wandering through the shop at the end, the prices were so grossly inflated that we took to our heels before one of the sales assistants could latch on to us. I was trying to get the taxi-driver to take us back into town immediately but he started moaning about how much petrol he’d used and how we had to go to at least one more shop for him. I went to the carpet shop more out of interest than obligation though, as I felt he should have been more honest with us in the first place.
The carpet shop proved to be a veritable Aladdin’s Cave of woven treasures. Our gracious salesman, Salim, was hospitable and extremely skilled at his job. However, it was the sheer beauty and quality of his wares that had me entranced and it was only a matter of finding the right price before we made a deal. I don’t claim to be an expert on Kashmir woollen carpets, but my eventual purchase looked of the highest quality to me…and I’m sure I’ll get the official verdict from my parents when Dave has delivered it back home.
We headed back to the guesthouse to finalise our plans and ended up booking a 3 day / 2 night trek and purchasing 2nd class sleeper tickets for Thursday night’s train to Ayuthaya. That left us with a day and a night in Bangkok before Dave’s flight home on the Saturday evening.
We headed into town for dinner at an up-market restaurant with more of the heavily spiced local dishes on the menu. We then managed to find a bar with a pool table where the bar staff only served drinks as opposed to anything of a more intimate nature. This is a lot more difficult than it sounds in Chiang Mai…and we had to put up with several leery old men pawing at our waitress and generally making a nuisance of themselves before they sloped off to somewhere with more accommodating staff. Eventually – after sending the cue-ball off the table, into the street and, finally, into the canal, we decided to call it a night and headed back to get some sleep before our trek. This time I wore the amazing anti-snoring headband (another great Christmas present from home and, I suspect, one more for Dave’s benefit than mine) which, miraculously, seemed to work so we both had a good night’s kip.
December 31, 2004
New Year's Eve
After 3 pleasant days on the beach we said a reluctant goodbye to Haad Yuan and jumped on a boat to take us back to Haad Rin. There was to be a New Year’s Eve party on the Full Moon beach and after our timeout at Big Blue, we were fully recharged and ready for another big night out. Kris and Ellie had an air-conditioned bungalow with hot water shower, which was less than 2 minutes from the speedboat pier. It was nice to have somewhere to freshen up before hitting the beach and, similarly, would serve Dave and me well when we left the party at 4am to catch our flight from Samui to Chiang Mai. It seems daft that we caught a 6am flight on New Year’s Day but I knew we’d have to use up a day to get there and figured we might as well waste the time travelling while we were wasted! The 6am flight was the only one with seats left when we booked and we certainly didn’t want to be hanging around Haad Rin with a hangover.
After 4 days with no mobile reception, Dave finally got a message through from Jonny and Suki that they were going to be spending New Year on Samui. I was a bit disappointed as I’d have loved for them to have met Kris and Ellie and, of course, it would have been wicked to see the New Year in with them. Also, none of us had thought that Full Moon would have been the last time we were going to see each other…so we hadn’t even said proper goodbyes. Still, after the full on craziness of the Full Moon party, I couldn’t blame them for wanting to find something a little less hectic for New Year...and ultimately, of course, it was their holiday too.
We spent a lazy afternoon with a few beers in the hammocks and took a boat out to a floating bar to watch a final Ko Pha Ngan sunset. We then enjoyed a fantastic seafood barbeque before heading up to the beach at 10pm. The minute we arrived on the beach I could feel a big difference in the atmosphere compared to the Full Moon Party. The air seemed calmer, a little less frenetic and a little more empathic. Whereas the Full Moon Party had seemed like a frantic denial of the disaster, this party was in full knowledge of the event. It really felt like people were celebrating life, survival and reunion rather than hiding from the death and destruction that we’d slowly come to terms with. How many people on that beach had been swept up in the water and survived? How many had been separated from loved ones but found them again? For whatever reasons, this party felt a lot friendlier and more welcoming and we knew we were going to enjoy ourselves.
We started off at one of the bars set into a cliff at the South-East end of the beach. The sounds of the party floated gently up over the balcony and we were able to survey the whole scene as the strip of sand between the bars and the sea slowly began to fill with bodies. Looking away down the length of the beach, twinkling lights and dancing flames outlined the dark silhouettes of 5,000 revellers. At the far end, beach bungalows dotted the hillside with welcoming lights to give the impression of an elven village in the trees. The whole beguiling scene was inviting us down, welcoming us with open arms, encouraging us from our lofty tower to join in the party and share the positive vibes. Never one to turn down such a friendly invitation, I soon had the gang on its feet and wending its way down the shoreline.
Within 200 metres we’d already found a more appealing kind of music than at the Full Moon…funky-progressive-broken-beat house – with the occasional smattering of trancey vocals and the odd dirty bassline. Our original intention had been to traverse the entire length of the beach and make an informed choice as to which bar we’d dance at. However, I knew intuitively that we weren’t going to find anything better than this and settled into a groove right there in the sand. Kris and Ellie went to continue the original plan but I wasn’t at all surprised to see them back within 2 minutes, realising that this was indeed the place to be. Their desultory exploration had yielded the fact that there was only pounding techno or Jay-Z to be found further up the beach. Our choice was confirmed moments later when I managed to magically procure four seats and a small table. We had a dancing spot, a chill-out area, several bottles of beer and some respectable tunes…what more could a man ask for to see in the New Year? Of course there were people I’d have given my right arm to have join us and my thoughts often wandered to loved ones back home, but even just to enjoy it with these three good friends was enough to make it a very special New Year. Add to this the feeling of sand between your toes, a fresh breeze on your back and the sound of waves crashing on the shore and it was an unforgettable experience. Midnight seemed to pass almost un-noticed – almost like an aside to the party conversation. We managed a group hug and a little cheer before getting back to the serious business of dancing and in almost no time at all, it was time for Dave and me to shower and change for our flight. It seemed almost wrong to be leaving the party (and Kris and Ellie) when it was in full flow. However, it also seemed fitting to be leaving on a high instead of stumbling in at daybreak, feeling much the worse for wear. One of the good things about shooting off early was that our hangovers wouldn’t be quite so brutal.
We said fond farewells to Kris and Ellie on the pier and the speedboat ride was spent enjoyably talking to an attractive Kiwi called Kelly, who just happened to be a primary school teacher, which was what I had recently decided I wanted to do on my return home.
While everyone at home was celebrating the turn of the year, Dave and I were dozing at 28,000 feet, with the promise of a bed and some breakfast when we arrived in Chiang Mai.
After 4 days with no mobile reception, Dave finally got a message through from Jonny and Suki that they were going to be spending New Year on Samui. I was a bit disappointed as I’d have loved for them to have met Kris and Ellie and, of course, it would have been wicked to see the New Year in with them. Also, none of us had thought that Full Moon would have been the last time we were going to see each other…so we hadn’t even said proper goodbyes. Still, after the full on craziness of the Full Moon party, I couldn’t blame them for wanting to find something a little less hectic for New Year...and ultimately, of course, it was their holiday too.
We spent a lazy afternoon with a few beers in the hammocks and took a boat out to a floating bar to watch a final Ko Pha Ngan sunset. We then enjoyed a fantastic seafood barbeque before heading up to the beach at 10pm. The minute we arrived on the beach I could feel a big difference in the atmosphere compared to the Full Moon Party. The air seemed calmer, a little less frenetic and a little more empathic. Whereas the Full Moon Party had seemed like a frantic denial of the disaster, this party was in full knowledge of the event. It really felt like people were celebrating life, survival and reunion rather than hiding from the death and destruction that we’d slowly come to terms with. How many people on that beach had been swept up in the water and survived? How many had been separated from loved ones but found them again? For whatever reasons, this party felt a lot friendlier and more welcoming and we knew we were going to enjoy ourselves.
We started off at one of the bars set into a cliff at the South-East end of the beach. The sounds of the party floated gently up over the balcony and we were able to survey the whole scene as the strip of sand between the bars and the sea slowly began to fill with bodies. Looking away down the length of the beach, twinkling lights and dancing flames outlined the dark silhouettes of 5,000 revellers. At the far end, beach bungalows dotted the hillside with welcoming lights to give the impression of an elven village in the trees. The whole beguiling scene was inviting us down, welcoming us with open arms, encouraging us from our lofty tower to join in the party and share the positive vibes. Never one to turn down such a friendly invitation, I soon had the gang on its feet and wending its way down the shoreline.
Within 200 metres we’d already found a more appealing kind of music than at the Full Moon…funky-progressive-broken-beat house – with the occasional smattering of trancey vocals and the odd dirty bassline. Our original intention had been to traverse the entire length of the beach and make an informed choice as to which bar we’d dance at. However, I knew intuitively that we weren’t going to find anything better than this and settled into a groove right there in the sand. Kris and Ellie went to continue the original plan but I wasn’t at all surprised to see them back within 2 minutes, realising that this was indeed the place to be. Their desultory exploration had yielded the fact that there was only pounding techno or Jay-Z to be found further up the beach. Our choice was confirmed moments later when I managed to magically procure four seats and a small table. We had a dancing spot, a chill-out area, several bottles of beer and some respectable tunes…what more could a man ask for to see in the New Year? Of course there were people I’d have given my right arm to have join us and my thoughts often wandered to loved ones back home, but even just to enjoy it with these three good friends was enough to make it a very special New Year. Add to this the feeling of sand between your toes, a fresh breeze on your back and the sound of waves crashing on the shore and it was an unforgettable experience. Midnight seemed to pass almost un-noticed – almost like an aside to the party conversation. We managed a group hug and a little cheer before getting back to the serious business of dancing and in almost no time at all, it was time for Dave and me to shower and change for our flight. It seemed almost wrong to be leaving the party (and Kris and Ellie) when it was in full flow. However, it also seemed fitting to be leaving on a high instead of stumbling in at daybreak, feeling much the worse for wear. One of the good things about shooting off early was that our hangovers wouldn’t be quite so brutal.
We said fond farewells to Kris and Ellie on the pier and the speedboat ride was spent enjoyably talking to an attractive Kiwi called Kelly, who just happened to be a primary school teacher, which was what I had recently decided I wanted to do on my return home.
While everyone at home was celebrating the turn of the year, Dave and I were dozing at 28,000 feet, with the promise of a bed and some breakfast when we arrived in Chiang Mai.
December 30, 2004
Haad Yuan
Dave and I caught the 1pm ferry to Ko Pha Ngan and found Kris and Ellie waiting for us at Haad Rin pier. It was a simple matter of transferring our bags to a waiting long-tail boat to head round to Haad Yuan. Once again, I was really excited to have friends from home to hang out with and I spent the journey cross-examining Kris about his journey and our near-miss the night before. It turned out he and Ellie had left Green Mangoes about 10 minutes before I turned up…but we were all together now and heading for some proper chill-time on the beach. I savoured the sound of his Solihull accent and his dry wit…and remembered all over again why we were still in touch, despite the relative distance between us at home.
We had a slight nightmare when our boat skipper refused to take the craft into Haad Yuan beach…the surf was too high and the boat too heavily laden. Instead we continued round to Haad Tien – another beautiful and secluded beach – from where we had to take a hike over a steep headland with our bags in the baking afternoon sun. We arrived at Big Blue, dripping and thoroughly hot and flustered and, after sorting out our rooms, sat drinking ice-cold fruit-shakes and water. Eventually, refreshed, Dave and I headed down to the beach with our inflatables and discovered the sport of lilo-surfing. The waves weren’t particularly big – maybe four feet from the front – but there was plenty of power behind them. We discovered that, if we caught them right, you could ride 20-25 metres right up onto the sand with exhilarating speed.
Haad Yuan was serene and relatively untouched – we had pleasant facilities and 24hr electricity, but there weren’t too many lager louts to spoil the desert island atmosphere. The daily routine consisted of breakfast, surfing, sun-bathing, lunch, surfing, drinking, dinner and dvd’s. It was, however, while we were chilling out on the beach and in the bar that we first began to realise the scale of the disaster in the Indian Ocean. BBC News 24 or CNN were on pretty constantly during the day and it wasn’t unusual to find yourself part of a slack-jawed crowd, gaping in horrified amazement at the footage from Indonesia and Sri Lanka. The sheer size of the problem filled us all with a kind of morbid fascination and the television screen had this mesmerizing, hypnotic effect that left you unable to tear your eyes away until a commercial break…and then left you exhausted as your brain struggled to cope with the enormity of what was happening. Every day the death toll increased by astronomic proportions and there were hundreds of heart-rending tales of separated children and parents. Each day that went by left a stronger impression of the insane reality and I could feel myself getting that familiar urge to try and do something about it.
These thoughts crystallised when I had a random rendez-vous on the beach with someone I knew from Devon. About 6 years ago, I’d gone on a pub-crawl near Exeter with friends I knew from my time working on the Student Union. A couple of their friends had been visiting from London and joined us on the crawl. It was one of these – Darryl – who’d walked up to me on the beach one day and asked me if I was called Fin. After getting over the initial surprise, we fell to talking about our travels and then, inevitably, got to talking about the tsunami. It seemed we’d both been thinking along the same lines and, Darryl, as a house builder, was thinking about going out somewhere to help with the re-building operation. This struck me as a worthy aim and I made up my mind to volunteer once I’d seen Dave safely on his way back to England. My plans had been to go over the border from northern Thailand into Laos for the last 3 weeks before going to Nepal. Instead, I could go down to Phi Phi or Phuket and wield a shovel or push a wheel-barrow for a few weeks. It seemed like a fitting thing to do…I’d had an amazing three months enjoying Asia’s hospitality – the least I could do was give a bit back.
I talked to the rest of the guys about it that evening and we all had a strong sense of wanting to help out. We decided that we’d all try to give blood when we got somewhere with the facilities…and I made up my mind to get in touch with the aid agencies when we were back in the city.
Having made this decision to do something positive, it seemed easier to relax and enjoy the lazy pleasures of beach-life: our comprehension of the magnitude of the human disaster was tempered by the practical resolution and we were able to temporarily suspend our disquiet until the time came to do something. It sounds like selfish relief, but the Thai attitude (of counting your blessings and enjoying them while they last) was also rubbing off and at the root of it all, I guess we were also celebrating our luck at avoiding disaster.
We had a slight nightmare when our boat skipper refused to take the craft into Haad Yuan beach…the surf was too high and the boat too heavily laden. Instead we continued round to Haad Tien – another beautiful and secluded beach – from where we had to take a hike over a steep headland with our bags in the baking afternoon sun. We arrived at Big Blue, dripping and thoroughly hot and flustered and, after sorting out our rooms, sat drinking ice-cold fruit-shakes and water. Eventually, refreshed, Dave and I headed down to the beach with our inflatables and discovered the sport of lilo-surfing. The waves weren’t particularly big – maybe four feet from the front – but there was plenty of power behind them. We discovered that, if we caught them right, you could ride 20-25 metres right up onto the sand with exhilarating speed.
Haad Yuan was serene and relatively untouched – we had pleasant facilities and 24hr electricity, but there weren’t too many lager louts to spoil the desert island atmosphere. The daily routine consisted of breakfast, surfing, sun-bathing, lunch, surfing, drinking, dinner and dvd’s. It was, however, while we were chilling out on the beach and in the bar that we first began to realise the scale of the disaster in the Indian Ocean. BBC News 24 or CNN were on pretty constantly during the day and it wasn’t unusual to find yourself part of a slack-jawed crowd, gaping in horrified amazement at the footage from Indonesia and Sri Lanka. The sheer size of the problem filled us all with a kind of morbid fascination and the television screen had this mesmerizing, hypnotic effect that left you unable to tear your eyes away until a commercial break…and then left you exhausted as your brain struggled to cope with the enormity of what was happening. Every day the death toll increased by astronomic proportions and there were hundreds of heart-rending tales of separated children and parents. Each day that went by left a stronger impression of the insane reality and I could feel myself getting that familiar urge to try and do something about it.
These thoughts crystallised when I had a random rendez-vous on the beach with someone I knew from Devon. About 6 years ago, I’d gone on a pub-crawl near Exeter with friends I knew from my time working on the Student Union. A couple of their friends had been visiting from London and joined us on the crawl. It was one of these – Darryl – who’d walked up to me on the beach one day and asked me if I was called Fin. After getting over the initial surprise, we fell to talking about our travels and then, inevitably, got to talking about the tsunami. It seemed we’d both been thinking along the same lines and, Darryl, as a house builder, was thinking about going out somewhere to help with the re-building operation. This struck me as a worthy aim and I made up my mind to volunteer once I’d seen Dave safely on his way back to England. My plans had been to go over the border from northern Thailand into Laos for the last 3 weeks before going to Nepal. Instead, I could go down to Phi Phi or Phuket and wield a shovel or push a wheel-barrow for a few weeks. It seemed like a fitting thing to do…I’d had an amazing three months enjoying Asia’s hospitality – the least I could do was give a bit back.
I talked to the rest of the guys about it that evening and we all had a strong sense of wanting to help out. We decided that we’d all try to give blood when we got somewhere with the facilities…and I made up my mind to get in touch with the aid agencies when we were back in the city.
Having made this decision to do something positive, it seemed easier to relax and enjoy the lazy pleasures of beach-life: our comprehension of the magnitude of the human disaster was tempered by the practical resolution and we were able to temporarily suspend our disquiet until the time came to do something. It sounds like selfish relief, but the Thai attitude (of counting your blessings and enjoying them while they last) was also rubbing off and at the root of it all, I guess we were also celebrating our luck at avoiding disaster.
December 28, 2004
Chaweng
The next day we checked out of our secluded resort with every intention of making our way over to Ko Pha Ngan to meet some more friends from home. Kris (a former housemate and friend from university) and his girlfriend, Ellie, are those great kind of friends who you don’t live near but, when your in their neck of the woods (or vice-versa), you know you can call each other up, meet up and carry on exactly where you left off six months before. I’d last seen them at Kris’s birthday barbeque in Tooting in August, when we’d made plans to meet in Thailand after discovering we’d be in the same place at the same time. However, before we went across the water, we wanted to meet up with Joe one last time before he headed off to Saigon for New Year. We ambled in to Chaweng and found it suspiciously like Haad Rin’s back alleys…it was looking pleasant enough in the bright, morning sunlight but I knew that nightfall and neon would change all that. We found Joe’s resort, dumped our bags and sat in the beach-front restaurant for a spot of brunch, whilst admiring the local scenery ;-). While the Samui Marina Cottages (where Dave and I had stayed) had an almost deserted stretch of white sand, Chaweng beach was crammed with bikini-clad babes and (more disturbingly!) speedo-clad spivs. I don’t object to ‘budgie-smugglers’ if you’re a serious swimmer and doing a few laps…but why wear them to the beach…and then roll the back up to get your cheeks an even tan?! However, there was enough eye-candy to make these stomach-churning sights nothing but a minor inconvenience and we got it into our heads that we needed to purchase Lilos and spend some time checking out the beach. About this time, we got a message from Kris that he and Ellie were planning on crashing at the first hotel they could find on Samui, to recover from their long journey. Before we knew it, Dave and I had agreed to stop at Joe’s place and have one last night out on the town with him. Jonny and Suki sent us a message to say they were having a quiet night – who can blame them, a married couple on an exotic island…you wouldn’t want to be out with the rowdy lads every night! So the three musketeers saddled up and rode forth…
We strolled into town and bought our lilos, a half-dozen longnecks (big bottles of beer) and a waterproof camera before making our first foray onto the beach. We were soon balanced precariously astride the inflatables, beers in hand and soaking up the rays. As we drifted down the beach on the current, we found ourselves opposite a bar pumping out some fat, funky house and instantly made up our minds where we’d be starting the evening’s entertainments, a little later on. We swam out to a sandbar (just for the hell of it!), paddled around, got drunk, laughed at Dave losing his Oakleys and generally had a very pleasant and relaxing afternoon…apart from Dave, who was a little gutted about losing his sunnies at the first available opportunity! ;-)
We went back to our funky house bar after the sun had gone down and spent a couple of hours shooting pool, draining cocktails and generally getting ourselves in the right state of mind to go down the resort’s infamous main drag. We even got to set off some enormous fireworks and were soon well in the mood to party.
As we walked into town, the streets were a melee of extremely good-looking girls in revealing outfits and western men wandering around in packs with predatory looks in their eyes. Some of the girls were already with their ‘boyfriends’, others were merely enticing bait to lure guys to drink in their particular bar but the vast majority were out-and-out hookers looking for an easy mark. Joe had promised us that Green Mangoes had been the place to hang out on his last visit and, certainly, when we’d parked ourselves at the bar we stopped getting hassled by the girls. However, the music policy soon began to grate (more R&B!) and we eventually upped sticks and left for pastures new.
I amused myself and the boys (and just about everybody else!) by trying my hand at one of fairground games dotting the pavements between the bars. The object of the game was to climb up a rope ladder on a pivot to reach a wad of money stuck to the board at the top. Needless to say, it was well beyond my inebriated abilities and I got nothing from it apart from some rope burns on my hand, a lighter wallet and a good deal of frustration! We eventually found a bar playing half-decent music, which just happened to be staffed by one of the best-looking girls any of us had ever seen. Cherry was beautiful, funny and extremely sexy…and possibly a little too good to be true. I managed to get her phone number, which I spent the next week thinking about calling. In the end, the combination of trekking back to Samui and not being quite sure what expectations might be held (particularly of the financial or marital kind!) was enough to put me off from calling her and I eventually (reluctantly) threw the scrap of paper away. Fortunately, despite his drunkenness, Dave managed to snap a photo of the lovely lady, which I will have to remember her by…;-) This inspirational photography was about the last coherent thing Dave managed to do and it wasn’t long before I was having to support him on the short stagger home. Back at the ranch, Dave had had a message through from Kris and Ellie, saying they were heading to Green Mangoes so, leaving Dave to catch some sleep before my snoring began, I headed back into town still feeling in the mood to party. I walked warily into the bar, fearing another assault of nasty music, only to find – much to my delight! – that they were playing PVD’s mix of Binary Finary’s ‘1998’. I hadn’t heard a full-on trance tune on a sound system for nearly three months and I forgot any notions of trying to find Kris and Ellie in the crowded club. I planted myself in the middle of the dancefloor with a likely-looking bunch of heavyweight Saffers and went for it with a manic grin plastered across my crazy face. I figured if the guys were there, they’d spot me in no time…and I just wanted to enjoy the moment. Unfortunately, the moment didn’t last long as it was coming up to kicking out time. I emerged in my usual perspiring state, found Joe ensconced with an attractive girl from London and staggered off to bed, feeling light-headed and considerably the worse for wear.
We strolled into town and bought our lilos, a half-dozen longnecks (big bottles of beer) and a waterproof camera before making our first foray onto the beach. We were soon balanced precariously astride the inflatables, beers in hand and soaking up the rays. As we drifted down the beach on the current, we found ourselves opposite a bar pumping out some fat, funky house and instantly made up our minds where we’d be starting the evening’s entertainments, a little later on. We swam out to a sandbar (just for the hell of it!), paddled around, got drunk, laughed at Dave losing his Oakleys and generally had a very pleasant and relaxing afternoon…apart from Dave, who was a little gutted about losing his sunnies at the first available opportunity! ;-)
We went back to our funky house bar after the sun had gone down and spent a couple of hours shooting pool, draining cocktails and generally getting ourselves in the right state of mind to go down the resort’s infamous main drag. We even got to set off some enormous fireworks and were soon well in the mood to party.
As we walked into town, the streets were a melee of extremely good-looking girls in revealing outfits and western men wandering around in packs with predatory looks in their eyes. Some of the girls were already with their ‘boyfriends’, others were merely enticing bait to lure guys to drink in their particular bar but the vast majority were out-and-out hookers looking for an easy mark. Joe had promised us that Green Mangoes had been the place to hang out on his last visit and, certainly, when we’d parked ourselves at the bar we stopped getting hassled by the girls. However, the music policy soon began to grate (more R&B!) and we eventually upped sticks and left for pastures new.
I amused myself and the boys (and just about everybody else!) by trying my hand at one of fairground games dotting the pavements between the bars. The object of the game was to climb up a rope ladder on a pivot to reach a wad of money stuck to the board at the top. Needless to say, it was well beyond my inebriated abilities and I got nothing from it apart from some rope burns on my hand, a lighter wallet and a good deal of frustration! We eventually found a bar playing half-decent music, which just happened to be staffed by one of the best-looking girls any of us had ever seen. Cherry was beautiful, funny and extremely sexy…and possibly a little too good to be true. I managed to get her phone number, which I spent the next week thinking about calling. In the end, the combination of trekking back to Samui and not being quite sure what expectations might be held (particularly of the financial or marital kind!) was enough to put me off from calling her and I eventually (reluctantly) threw the scrap of paper away. Fortunately, despite his drunkenness, Dave managed to snap a photo of the lovely lady, which I will have to remember her by…;-) This inspirational photography was about the last coherent thing Dave managed to do and it wasn’t long before I was having to support him on the short stagger home. Back at the ranch, Dave had had a message through from Kris and Ellie, saying they were heading to Green Mangoes so, leaving Dave to catch some sleep before my snoring began, I headed back into town still feeling in the mood to party. I walked warily into the bar, fearing another assault of nasty music, only to find – much to my delight! – that they were playing PVD’s mix of Binary Finary’s ‘1998’. I hadn’t heard a full-on trance tune on a sound system for nearly three months and I forgot any notions of trying to find Kris and Ellie in the crowded club. I planted myself in the middle of the dancefloor with a likely-looking bunch of heavyweight Saffers and went for it with a manic grin plastered across my crazy face. I figured if the guys were there, they’d spot me in no time…and I just wanted to enjoy the moment. Unfortunately, the moment didn’t last long as it was coming up to kicking out time. I emerged in my usual perspiring state, found Joe ensconced with an attractive girl from London and staggered off to bed, feeling light-headed and considerably the worse for wear.
December 27, 2004
Hangover
Tales of my coping after a night in excess are plentiful enough in this blog…so I won’t bore you with the details. Suffice to say, I was feeling washed out enough for the following day to be non-existent – even the blessed Mint Source shower gel (one of many excellent gifts from my older brother!) couldn’t bring me to life. The only interesting things that happened all day were my munching of Turkey and Stuffing crisps to quench my insatiable desire for comfort food (these were a really cool pressie from Jon and Char, along with a mini Christmas pudding!) and meeting a bunch of Canadians who had been on Ko Phi Phi when the wave had hit. The restaurant and reception hut at their beach resort had been swept away by the encroaching sea; their own bungalow had been untouched and they had left, with all their belongings, completely unscathed. They described how they’d been on the beach, watching this wave coming in and thinking (best Keanu voice here), ‘Whoah! Check out the size of that wave, dude! That looks gnaaaaaaaaaarly, bro…let’s go get our boards!’ Of course, as the wave drew nearer they started thinking more along the lines of, ‘Shit! That is a REALLY big wave…I think I’m going to get a bit further from it…oh, shit! RUUUUUUNN!’
It was pretty weird sitting talking to people who’d witnessed such a crazy thing and we could see from their earnest expressions and eagerness to get wrecked, that they had ‘survived’ something pretty scary. However, because their resort had been relatively unscathed, and because they hadn’t witnessed any of the carnage or heart-wrenching scenes that were soon to become all-too-familiar, their tale didn’t seem all that incredible. It was still distanced from us by this sense of the surreal…it was something that people could tell tales of to their friends when they got home…it wasn’t yet an unfolding human disaster. Still, I made a point of posting on the blog that we were okay…I know what it’s like trying to ascertain the correct story from newspaper reports and television clips and wanted to be sure that nobody was worrying about us. I was amazed and touched at the number of people who’d taken the trouble to e-mail to see that we were okay…and it was the tone of these e-mails that came in over the next three or four days that first began to indicate the scale and gravity of the disaster in the Indian Ocean. Meanwhile, back on an increasingly busy Samui (literally thousands of holiday-makers had diverted or transferred from Phi Phi and Phuket!), the party seemed to go on as normal. Some of this was surely manic celebration after escaping disaster; the remainder seemed to be our ongoing ignorance and the Thai predilection for playing things down.
It was pretty weird sitting talking to people who’d witnessed such a crazy thing and we could see from their earnest expressions and eagerness to get wrecked, that they had ‘survived’ something pretty scary. However, because their resort had been relatively unscathed, and because they hadn’t witnessed any of the carnage or heart-wrenching scenes that were soon to become all-too-familiar, their tale didn’t seem all that incredible. It was still distanced from us by this sense of the surreal…it was something that people could tell tales of to their friends when they got home…it wasn’t yet an unfolding human disaster. Still, I made a point of posting on the blog that we were okay…I know what it’s like trying to ascertain the correct story from newspaper reports and television clips and wanted to be sure that nobody was worrying about us. I was amazed and touched at the number of people who’d taken the trouble to e-mail to see that we were okay…and it was the tone of these e-mails that came in over the next three or four days that first began to indicate the scale and gravity of the disaster in the Indian Ocean. Meanwhile, back on an increasingly busy Samui (literally thousands of holiday-makers had diverted or transferred from Phi Phi and Phuket!), the party seemed to go on as normal. Some of this was surely manic celebration after escaping disaster; the remainder seemed to be our ongoing ignorance and the Thai predilection for playing things down.
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.
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