Friday
[Dirty Bitch]
After a 12 hour dead-sleep, I woke up at my Dad's with no-one around in the house. I checked my wounds. The infected bite on my right arm is looking terrible; as big as it's ever been and yellow like mustard. On my right finger, the cut i sustained falling in to a gutter whilst stood still in Luang Prabang is also seeping. The lump on my bck from the same fall is becoming a nice purple bruise, but the bite on my right arm seems to have been saved by Graham's generous offer of bandages and Polysporin; Dad and I had removed these bandages the night before, to my relief. Something like 4 days ago, maybe 3, Graham, Phil and I had ventured across town via a 9 baht (18p) canal boat to the huge MBK market, a mammoth indoor shopping centre somewhere between 21st century mall and traditional market. A shocked young lady who was trying to sell me Thai boxing shorts asked what had happened to my bandaged arms. "A tiger," i told her. "No!" she exclaimed, "you are lying! Are you ok?" "You should see the tiger," said Phil. After Graham had finished stocking up on gear for his adventure to New Zealand, the three of us hopped back on the 9 baht boat and went to see the lovely Giftzy on Khao San Road. She immediately sorted him out a cheaper flight than any other travel agent, online or real-world, had quoted and we celebrated with some noodles and a beer. Graham was flagging and went to bed after Phil had used his tiny shower, leaving Phil and I to waste the rest of the night playing pool in a bar, counting the hours until our 5 a.m. bus to the airport. I intermittently went out on to the main road to buy vodka-red bull buckets, a necessary ingredient to any long night, and each time I entered the main strip the place smelt more of oil and the people's stumbles and slurs became more obvious. We chatted to the night staff whilst entering our own exhausted stupor and eventually had to sprint to get our bags from Graham's room to make the bus. We made it. I was expecting to take my first flight alone that morning, Phil and I due to depart for London 5 minutes apart, but such is the nature of travelling that a lovely young couple called John and Jen got chatting to us on the bus and it turned out that they were on my flight home. The three of us chucked Phil on to his plane and began our long, delayed, tiring journey home. I got no more than 30 minutes sleep at a time and managed to watch 3 full movies in the 15 hours we were on a plane. Luckily I'd drunkenly chatted up the lady in Bangkok airport who booked my seats for the planes and she'd arranged for me to have extra leg-room on both of my flights. However, this did not help in the sleep department, confirming that my lanky frame is not built for relaxtion in transit, and when I reached Dad in Heathrow arrivals I was more manically-exhausted than ever in my life. "No bed and no sleep for around 80 hours, Dad," i explained. "Have you got a lighter?" It was incredible to see everyone, Dad, Bev and Chris all gave me big hugs and I ate cereal and drank tea until my voice finally ran out. And so i awoke this morning after my heaviest sleep ever, completely dazed and quite emotional at not being with Rory or Arun. I sent Rors, who is in sunny Chiang-Mai with the gang, an email and phoned Cherry and Steve before re-entering England properly for a Rizla and filters trip to the shops. As I walked down the road the bitter breeze turned my hands purple. An old lady who was clearing things off the street stopped dead still when I passed her, giving me a look of apprehension. This made me reflect on how I looked now. Whilst away, I'd looked like a traveller, an open-minded dude, an adventurer; I looked like what I was. Now I was back at home, I realised I was still exactly what I looked like, except that the words were different. An unfashionable, unshaven, unemployed youth. Same same, but different context.
Wednesday
[I Can't Words Right Now]
When Steven and I awoke in the dorm we discovered a quarter of our bottle of lao lao remained unfinished. The thing about lao lao whiskey, which tastes more like a vodka, is that if you drink enough the night before you don't wake up with a hangover, you wake up still genuinely drunk.
"Steven! Drink the lao lao!" I demanded. Climbing up to his top bunk we cleaned off the bottle in 10 minutes, reigniting any remnants of alcohol in our systems from the night before and beginning perhaps the most intense drinking session of my life.
Steven, Bentley and I headed out for breakfast, unable to find anyone else. After this we decided that the best course of action for today was to buy 4 more litres of lao lao at the shop and begin drinking all day long. The previous night I had managed to organise my travel to Bangkok and my flight home whilst getting plastered and just about managing to watch the England game. This left us with little to do in Luang Prabang and so when we saw a DVD shop selling knock-offs for 60p each it became inevitable that today we would cram ourselves into Spicy Laos' movie room with some cracking films. I got a British indie film to show the Canadians ('Moon') and they bought a Canadian indie film to show me ('Pontypool'). The choices we made were fantastic. At the end of Pontypool we had a crowd of around 7 who'd joined us, me and the guys having drunk 2 bottles of lao lao between us, all of us periodically screaming at the screen and wailing with laughter.
When Bentley and I observed the tendency for apocalyptic films to have a scene in which the main characters end up getting it on, it prompted us to simultaneously start singing "It's the end of the world as we know it!" whilst humping the air. It was the kind of funny moment that comes out of nowhere and can only happen between people who genuinely know each other. I've shared moments like this with everyone in the gang over the past few weeks in Laos.
The few days we spent in Luang Prabang have left me with more blank spots than any other. I don't remember shouting at a tuk-tuk driver who offered me marijuana, "No Thankyou! I don't want anything! Kob-Chai Lai-Lai!!" I don't remember smashing my sunglasses and lighter on the floor in a fit of inexplicable rage. "You just lost it, dude," said Bentley the next day. The night after movie-day, however, i can remember most of. Whilst we were all at Spicy Laos, it seemed that every decent person we'd met in the whole of our trip suddenly came out of the woodwork to drink the night away. Alex the French dude, Chris the English dude, Cia from Vang Vieng, Seb from Spicy Laos, Luke and Sarah the English couple who'd be in and out of our lives since Don Det island. Together we celebrated, playing pool and joking around in the courtyard and drinking the place dry, occasionally venturing out into the town to visit the night market or on a lao lao run. Perhaps one of the greatest and messiest nights ever.
On my last day in Laos, it truly was the end of the world as we'd known it. Again we rose drunk, but this time we just headed for breakfast and tea. On our way back, we bumped in to Arun and Harriet who announced that this was their goodbye; they were headed for Vietnam on a flight at midday and were rushing back for their tuk-tuk pickup. Arun and I pressed our heads together as tears began to stream down our faces. Despite everyone and everything that we'd encountered in the last two and a half months, we'd actually not spent one night or morning apart. This began as our trip and what we'd chosen to drunkenly ignore - the end - was suddenly upon us. We embraced for a long time. I wished at that moment that I didn't have to leave him but instead I said, "you have a fucking good time, alright mate? Don't you dare stop having fun."
Most of the day was spent playing pool. Graham had decided that he'd completed his trip in South-East Asia and wanted to head to New Zealand, so he was due to travel with me on our epic journey to Bangkok. Rory is heading on with Bentley and Steven. As the day wore on, we waited around, watching Rory and Steven's heroic attempts at sharking the guys who work at Spicy Laos at pool. They went 4 beers up but will be disappointed when I tell everyone that they ended 6 beers down. As the afternoon wore on slowly, the same faces who'd appeared the previous night began to return to Spicy Laos to wave off Graham and I. When the time came, our tuk-tuk driver waited patiently as we hugged and high-fived our way through the crowd. "Steven, i love you n'shit," I told him. "John, you're coming to Canada...very soon," said Bentley with as serious a look as I'd ever seen on his face. Rory and I had few words but knowing looks and red eyes as we parted. I spent the next hour trying not to break down.
Graham and I began psyching ourselves up for our next mini-adventure: two night buses back to Bangkok via Vientiane. I've enjoyed passing through cities that I'm already familiar with; knowing your way around a place is a huge advantage and makes it easy to make the most of a day. It was made all the more enjoyable when, on the bus to Vientiane, we met a couple of girls called Naomi and Lilly with whom we wandered the town all day. Each of us was due to leave Laos' capital that afternoon and as our coach rolled in at 6 a.m., none of us having had any sleep, we kept up an astounding rate of chat considering our tiredness. As we said goodbye to each other later that day, I felt quite proud of the lot of us for managing to make something out of a rainy, cold, potentially wasteful day in a particularly uneventful city. Then, as Graham and I waited for our tuk-tuk to our next night bus we bumped in to Phil, a Brit who had coincidentally booked the exact same route back to Bangkok as us, had chosen to meet his tuk-tuk pickup at exactly the same guesthouse and had a flight back to England departing 5 minutes before mine the next day. So, once again, the three of us are making the most of a potentially wasteful day, wandering round Khao San Road, waiting to leave for the airport at 5 a.m. tomorrow morning.
"I hate the smell of Khao San in the morning." Where it began for me, it is now ending. Today, this road will become more and more hectic, more and more fun, more and more drunk. I'd love to analogise this description with the rest of my trip but, whilst accurate, it would not do it justice in the slightest. Whilst occasionally in a stupor, I have been more awake than ever in my life. Together as a group, whether it was Arun and me in Thailand, the five lollipop kids in Cambodia, or the entire gang in Laos, each of us has driven the others into new experiences, new understandings of the world, new perspectives. We've ended up sharing all of this. None of us will ever lose any of it.
"Steven! Drink the lao lao!" I demanded. Climbing up to his top bunk we cleaned off the bottle in 10 minutes, reigniting any remnants of alcohol in our systems from the night before and beginning perhaps the most intense drinking session of my life.
Steven, Bentley and I headed out for breakfast, unable to find anyone else. After this we decided that the best course of action for today was to buy 4 more litres of lao lao at the shop and begin drinking all day long. The previous night I had managed to organise my travel to Bangkok and my flight home whilst getting plastered and just about managing to watch the England game. This left us with little to do in Luang Prabang and so when we saw a DVD shop selling knock-offs for 60p each it became inevitable that today we would cram ourselves into Spicy Laos' movie room with some cracking films. I got a British indie film to show the Canadians ('Moon') and they bought a Canadian indie film to show me ('Pontypool'). The choices we made were fantastic. At the end of Pontypool we had a crowd of around 7 who'd joined us, me and the guys having drunk 2 bottles of lao lao between us, all of us periodically screaming at the screen and wailing with laughter.
When Bentley and I observed the tendency for apocalyptic films to have a scene in which the main characters end up getting it on, it prompted us to simultaneously start singing "It's the end of the world as we know it!" whilst humping the air. It was the kind of funny moment that comes out of nowhere and can only happen between people who genuinely know each other. I've shared moments like this with everyone in the gang over the past few weeks in Laos.
The few days we spent in Luang Prabang have left me with more blank spots than any other. I don't remember shouting at a tuk-tuk driver who offered me marijuana, "No Thankyou! I don't want anything! Kob-Chai Lai-Lai!!" I don't remember smashing my sunglasses and lighter on the floor in a fit of inexplicable rage. "You just lost it, dude," said Bentley the next day. The night after movie-day, however, i can remember most of. Whilst we were all at Spicy Laos, it seemed that every decent person we'd met in the whole of our trip suddenly came out of the woodwork to drink the night away. Alex the French dude, Chris the English dude, Cia from Vang Vieng, Seb from Spicy Laos, Luke and Sarah the English couple who'd be in and out of our lives since Don Det island. Together we celebrated, playing pool and joking around in the courtyard and drinking the place dry, occasionally venturing out into the town to visit the night market or on a lao lao run. Perhaps one of the greatest and messiest nights ever.
On my last day in Laos, it truly was the end of the world as we'd known it. Again we rose drunk, but this time we just headed for breakfast and tea. On our way back, we bumped in to Arun and Harriet who announced that this was their goodbye; they were headed for Vietnam on a flight at midday and were rushing back for their tuk-tuk pickup. Arun and I pressed our heads together as tears began to stream down our faces. Despite everyone and everything that we'd encountered in the last two and a half months, we'd actually not spent one night or morning apart. This began as our trip and what we'd chosen to drunkenly ignore - the end - was suddenly upon us. We embraced for a long time. I wished at that moment that I didn't have to leave him but instead I said, "you have a fucking good time, alright mate? Don't you dare stop having fun."
Most of the day was spent playing pool. Graham had decided that he'd completed his trip in South-East Asia and wanted to head to New Zealand, so he was due to travel with me on our epic journey to Bangkok. Rory is heading on with Bentley and Steven. As the day wore on, we waited around, watching Rory and Steven's heroic attempts at sharking the guys who work at Spicy Laos at pool. They went 4 beers up but will be disappointed when I tell everyone that they ended 6 beers down. As the afternoon wore on slowly, the same faces who'd appeared the previous night began to return to Spicy Laos to wave off Graham and I. When the time came, our tuk-tuk driver waited patiently as we hugged and high-fived our way through the crowd. "Steven, i love you n'shit," I told him. "John, you're coming to Canada...very soon," said Bentley with as serious a look as I'd ever seen on his face. Rory and I had few words but knowing looks and red eyes as we parted. I spent the next hour trying not to break down.
Graham and I began psyching ourselves up for our next mini-adventure: two night buses back to Bangkok via Vientiane. I've enjoyed passing through cities that I'm already familiar with; knowing your way around a place is a huge advantage and makes it easy to make the most of a day. It was made all the more enjoyable when, on the bus to Vientiane, we met a couple of girls called Naomi and Lilly with whom we wandered the town all day. Each of us was due to leave Laos' capital that afternoon and as our coach rolled in at 6 a.m., none of us having had any sleep, we kept up an astounding rate of chat considering our tiredness. As we said goodbye to each other later that day, I felt quite proud of the lot of us for managing to make something out of a rainy, cold, potentially wasteful day in a particularly uneventful city. Then, as Graham and I waited for our tuk-tuk to our next night bus we bumped in to Phil, a Brit who had coincidentally booked the exact same route back to Bangkok as us, had chosen to meet his tuk-tuk pickup at exactly the same guesthouse and had a flight back to England departing 5 minutes before mine the next day. So, once again, the three of us are making the most of a potentially wasteful day, wandering round Khao San Road, waiting to leave for the airport at 5 a.m. tomorrow morning.
"I hate the smell of Khao San in the morning." Where it began for me, it is now ending. Today, this road will become more and more hectic, more and more fun, more and more drunk. I'd love to analogise this description with the rest of my trip but, whilst accurate, it would not do it justice in the slightest. Whilst occasionally in a stupor, I have been more awake than ever in my life. Together as a group, whether it was Arun and me in Thailand, the five lollipop kids in Cambodia, or the entire gang in Laos, each of us has driven the others into new experiences, new understandings of the world, new perspectives. We've ended up sharing all of this. None of us will ever lose any of it.
Saturday
[Whatya On Abaat? N' Shit!]
The Canadians have become some of my best buddies. We've picked up each other's mannerisms over the last three weeks and all of us have formed a tightly knit group very naturally. It's tempting to think that's just the way it is out here, that meetings become friendships very quickly, but truly these guys have proven special. We laugh all day long and keep things happy when times get tough.
Bentley and I have had a tough few days. Physically we're all knackered but what is affectionately known as "the bullshit back home" has become a drag for the two of us. Whilst Bentley toiled trying to access his bank account via Vietamese customer services, I found out that reorganising your flight home is not as easy as I was led to believe. A day of bullshit later, and a night of lao lao inspired ideas and our options seem settled.
Arun and I left Vang Vieng with Harriet, Steven and Bentley on a roasting hot morning, all of us still wasted from the previous night - another QBar romp with the 50 or so aquaintances we'd met around the town. I dropped the beer i bought for the bus when i fell asleep for the first time in 30 hours, the mardy German girl behind me complaining to my deaf ears. When i woke up after our first pit stop, I put my headphones in and there they remained for the rest of the journey. The music inspired a wave of emotion in me. I grabbed Arun, Bentley and Steven's hands and told them how much I was going to miss them all. A month or so ago Rich had mentioned that the journey aspect of travelling was one of his favourite bits and I completely agree; bonds become stronger when you suffer through half a day in uncomfortable seats; the times when you're not talking allow the dust cloud in your mind to settle and new ideas and perspectives to form, leaving you smiling and inspired.
Harriet directed us towards SpicyLaos, a dorm guesthouse in the small but busy town of Luang Prabang that has one of the best backpacker vibes any of us have encountered yet. It's an old lodge that is all wooden floors and no shoes indoors. The family who run the place play around all day in the courtyard, challenging guests to pool and ping-pong. By day it is perfectly acceptable to sit around on your laptop chilling and chatting and reading books. By night, everyone sits and has a laugh on the balcony, knowing that the next morning you're all going to wake up in the same room and not feel like strangers any more. On our arrival we were all still battered, but we dragged ourselves down to the riverside for some posh eats and a few rounds of shithead.
The next night we all had a little bit more energy and some stupendous appetites, making the night market here an obvious choice. You cram yourself on to a wooden bench with your 10,000kip ($1.20) plate of buffet food and try to strike a conversation up, but this proves difficult because everyone is quickly stuffing themselves full of rice and noodles. Steven, Bentley and I joined a girl from the hostel called Sophie for a wander round the market proper, another dazzling array of coloured fabrics and handicrafts. I don't think i'll ever get bored of Asian night markets. Then it was on to the lao lao vodka, the only drink that can give me my voice back at the moment by means of a swift kick in the chest with each neat gulp. This inspired a fantastic night's chatting to anyone who joined us, as well as plenty of acknowledgments between us and the Canadians that "you guys are some of the best guys i've ever met."
At 4p.m. today, opening of business in England, I'll begin arranging my way home. Then, tonight, we're reuniting with Rory, Graham and the Canadian girls for what might be my last or penultimate night with the gang. There's a lot of people doing exactly what we're doing out here, it's something that a big proportion of our generation will share, but nobody has the same experience. It's been a beautiful time, unrivalled in my life and shared with my best friend and my cousin. For reasons other than practicalities, leaving will not be easy.
Bentley and I have had a tough few days. Physically we're all knackered but what is affectionately known as "the bullshit back home" has become a drag for the two of us. Whilst Bentley toiled trying to access his bank account via Vietamese customer services, I found out that reorganising your flight home is not as easy as I was led to believe. A day of bullshit later, and a night of lao lao inspired ideas and our options seem settled.
Arun and I left Vang Vieng with Harriet, Steven and Bentley on a roasting hot morning, all of us still wasted from the previous night - another QBar romp with the 50 or so aquaintances we'd met around the town. I dropped the beer i bought for the bus when i fell asleep for the first time in 30 hours, the mardy German girl behind me complaining to my deaf ears. When i woke up after our first pit stop, I put my headphones in and there they remained for the rest of the journey. The music inspired a wave of emotion in me. I grabbed Arun, Bentley and Steven's hands and told them how much I was going to miss them all. A month or so ago Rich had mentioned that the journey aspect of travelling was one of his favourite bits and I completely agree; bonds become stronger when you suffer through half a day in uncomfortable seats; the times when you're not talking allow the dust cloud in your mind to settle and new ideas and perspectives to form, leaving you smiling and inspired.
Harriet directed us towards SpicyLaos, a dorm guesthouse in the small but busy town of Luang Prabang that has one of the best backpacker vibes any of us have encountered yet. It's an old lodge that is all wooden floors and no shoes indoors. The family who run the place play around all day in the courtyard, challenging guests to pool and ping-pong. By day it is perfectly acceptable to sit around on your laptop chilling and chatting and reading books. By night, everyone sits and has a laugh on the balcony, knowing that the next morning you're all going to wake up in the same room and not feel like strangers any more. On our arrival we were all still battered, but we dragged ourselves down to the riverside for some posh eats and a few rounds of shithead.
The next night we all had a little bit more energy and some stupendous appetites, making the night market here an obvious choice. You cram yourself on to a wooden bench with your 10,000kip ($1.20) plate of buffet food and try to strike a conversation up, but this proves difficult because everyone is quickly stuffing themselves full of rice and noodles. Steven, Bentley and I joined a girl from the hostel called Sophie for a wander round the market proper, another dazzling array of coloured fabrics and handicrafts. I don't think i'll ever get bored of Asian night markets. Then it was on to the lao lao vodka, the only drink that can give me my voice back at the moment by means of a swift kick in the chest with each neat gulp. This inspired a fantastic night's chatting to anyone who joined us, as well as plenty of acknowledgments between us and the Canadians that "you guys are some of the best guys i've ever met."
At 4p.m. today, opening of business in England, I'll begin arranging my way home. Then, tonight, we're reuniting with Rory, Graham and the Canadian girls for what might be my last or penultimate night with the gang. There's a lot of people doing exactly what we're doing out here, it's something that a big proportion of our generation will share, but nobody has the same experience. It's been a beautiful time, unrivalled in my life and shared with my best friend and my cousin. For reasons other than practicalities, leaving will not be easy.
Wednesday
[Twist]
I woke up on my third morning in Vientiane to a shock. Stumbling downstairs on my battered feet, i decided it was time to check my account balance. This is when i discovered that i'd reached what i'd always called to myself "The $300 Mark." 200 quid would leve me about enough money to get out of South East Asia safely whilst leaving enough spare to drown my sorrows along the way. It'd snuck up on me and smashed me round the face, bringing the entire reality of the trip back in to perspective. I could suddenly remember the whole thing, how amazing it's all been at every stage and all the people who i have crossed paths with. Suddenly any homesickness i'd felt vanished.
I needed to take it easy so i went and got a cup of English Breakfast at our little cafe, the gang slowly joining me in preparation for our trip out of town that afternoon. As i mentioned my situation to my friends a few different solutions and options came up, over which i've mused with Arun and Rory during journeys and late nights since. It was obvious to me from the start though; hometime has arrived and i'll be making plans to get back to the UK in around 10 days time. I'll miss Vietnam and i'll miss Songkran, the Thai water festival. Frankly though, i was not upset about it for a moment; i cannot be more grateful for the time i've had and if i were to have done it differently i might have more money now but it wouldn't have been worth it.
Moving On
Thankfully, Laos is a very cheap place. I have managed to make the money go further than it might have had i panicked and our time in the capital was also well spent. Rory and and ventured out to the market, two stories of cheap clothes, jewellery and trinkets that were all quite tempting. The atmosphere here was typical of Laos in comparison to Cambodia or Thailand: much more relaxed, very friendly and far less busy. I've found a new pace of walking whilst in Laos, partially because of my feet which are cut and bruised on all sides but also because it just suits the place. You can wander across the road quite calmly here, the drivers are in no rush and will always avoid you.
The rain was beginning to subside in Vientiane so Rory and I diverted our stroll to take in a little bookshop. The guy at the counter was fantastic. "Welcome, take your time," he declared as we walked in. He didn't need to smile to seem friendly and his intelligence shone through in everything he said. I ended up with three quality new books. By the time we were headed out of Vientiane on the bus the sun had come out, prompting Bentley and I to stand outside with our arms stretched out, looking upwards, shouting, "the sun is back! To Vang Vieng! Tubing!"
Tubing had always been one of the most hotly anticipated events on our schedule, it's the epicentre of traveller fun and antics. The bus ride was quick despite the gaping great holes that exist on all Laos roads and it dropped us off on the main street in time for sunset. By this time, shirtless Westerners were already slothing around the streets with buckets in their hand, covered in face paint and slurring loudly. We found a mint little guesthouse that we almost completely took over as the entire gang moved in. Graham, Bentley and I had already planned our night out: a trip on mushroom shakes to force our minds open and to lift my mood away from anything negative. We headed down to the bar we'd heard was cool and met the owner, Jaiydee, who smiles, winks and clicks whilst he serves you drinks. After we'd waited an hour playing pool and the shakes had kicked in the three of us decided that an adventure was in order. We walked back up to the main strip and found the rest of the gang.
"Holy shit, it's like a drunk bomb went off!" Graham shouted. Our vibe was not their vibe. Our smiles weren't like theirs and our conversation was starting to get spacey. We bolted back in the opposite direction and, following various signs - a light in the distance, a cliff, the moon - we walked on the adventure of a lifetime. Lit by a full moon we wandered through rice paddies and the forest for three hours, stopping every 10 minutes to contemplate the stars and the satellites, philosophising all the way and creating a fantastic buzz. My day had begun financial depression and had finished with intellectual ecstacy.
The next day we went tubing proper. It was just the guys, all 6 of us, but a crowd emerged after we'd done a couple of bars. Everywhere you arrive, big rubber tube in hand, you're plied with free shots. The music is consistently awesome all the way down and every bar is banging all day. After one bucket the rope swings and the zip lines seem like the most awesome idea on Earth. Inspired by Bentley, who is such an adrenaline junkie that he will jump off of any available platform as long as the water exists below, we all swung and threw ourselves into the stream. The drunker you get, the more the rush of flying, the more natural letting go feels. I personally exorcised a lot of demons by throwing myself off of 30 feet platforms repeatedly. Arun fulfilled a promise that he'd made often on the trip and as soon as 'Woo Boost' started playing he threw up everywhere. The look of horrofied expectation was mixed with a knowing smile as he leaned over the balcony.
The whole thing is wild. Vang Vieng doesn't stop all day and getting swept up is inevitable. The late club, QBar, which doesn't close until midnight, blasts out pumping music non-stop. This day left us wrecked the next day, so we decided to find a little slice of paradise and chill all day. Bentley, Arun, Graham and I opted for more mushroom shakes and had the trip of a lifetime all day whilst Rory and Steven drank. The proof of our friendships was shown in how well our varying vibes worked on this day, although the location was inspiring enough to chill anyone out. We were sat riverside in hammocks and on beds, the spectacular cliffs opposite making for a beautiful orange sunset. Bentley and I stuck our faces in the strong current and let our bodies drift quickly down the water. We came out exillerated and started dancing on platforms to the dubstep Rory had put on behind the bar. The quiet Thai owners smiled at us, their only customers all day, watching us in bliss.
After having had another day's tubing, this time without tubes, since our trip in paradise we've all fallen in love with Vang Vieng. The reputation might be one of debauchery but really the atmosphere is completely unique. The second day tubing left us all split up but still partying on, still throwing ourselves from great heights into the water and still able to stand after gallons of alcohol. Each night we've owned the dancefloor at QBar and met dozens of people. Today, we got bikes and cycled out for more tranquillity at the Blue Lagoon, a bright blue pool of freezing cold water that feels like it washes off any sins, which we also sweated out with a couple of hours playing football tennis. Having fun comes so naturally here that it's unavoidable. Despite my bad news, it's an incredible time in my life and a totally beautiful place on Earth. I could not have asked for anything more.
I needed to take it easy so i went and got a cup of English Breakfast at our little cafe, the gang slowly joining me in preparation for our trip out of town that afternoon. As i mentioned my situation to my friends a few different solutions and options came up, over which i've mused with Arun and Rory during journeys and late nights since. It was obvious to me from the start though; hometime has arrived and i'll be making plans to get back to the UK in around 10 days time. I'll miss Vietnam and i'll miss Songkran, the Thai water festival. Frankly though, i was not upset about it for a moment; i cannot be more grateful for the time i've had and if i were to have done it differently i might have more money now but it wouldn't have been worth it.
Moving On
Thankfully, Laos is a very cheap place. I have managed to make the money go further than it might have had i panicked and our time in the capital was also well spent. Rory and and ventured out to the market, two stories of cheap clothes, jewellery and trinkets that were all quite tempting. The atmosphere here was typical of Laos in comparison to Cambodia or Thailand: much more relaxed, very friendly and far less busy. I've found a new pace of walking whilst in Laos, partially because of my feet which are cut and bruised on all sides but also because it just suits the place. You can wander across the road quite calmly here, the drivers are in no rush and will always avoid you.
The rain was beginning to subside in Vientiane so Rory and I diverted our stroll to take in a little bookshop. The guy at the counter was fantastic. "Welcome, take your time," he declared as we walked in. He didn't need to smile to seem friendly and his intelligence shone through in everything he said. I ended up with three quality new books. By the time we were headed out of Vientiane on the bus the sun had come out, prompting Bentley and I to stand outside with our arms stretched out, looking upwards, shouting, "the sun is back! To Vang Vieng! Tubing!"
Tubing had always been one of the most hotly anticipated events on our schedule, it's the epicentre of traveller fun and antics. The bus ride was quick despite the gaping great holes that exist on all Laos roads and it dropped us off on the main street in time for sunset. By this time, shirtless Westerners were already slothing around the streets with buckets in their hand, covered in face paint and slurring loudly. We found a mint little guesthouse that we almost completely took over as the entire gang moved in. Graham, Bentley and I had already planned our night out: a trip on mushroom shakes to force our minds open and to lift my mood away from anything negative. We headed down to the bar we'd heard was cool and met the owner, Jaiydee, who smiles, winks and clicks whilst he serves you drinks. After we'd waited an hour playing pool and the shakes had kicked in the three of us decided that an adventure was in order. We walked back up to the main strip and found the rest of the gang.
"Holy shit, it's like a drunk bomb went off!" Graham shouted. Our vibe was not their vibe. Our smiles weren't like theirs and our conversation was starting to get spacey. We bolted back in the opposite direction and, following various signs - a light in the distance, a cliff, the moon - we walked on the adventure of a lifetime. Lit by a full moon we wandered through rice paddies and the forest for three hours, stopping every 10 minutes to contemplate the stars and the satellites, philosophising all the way and creating a fantastic buzz. My day had begun financial depression and had finished with intellectual ecstacy.
The next day we went tubing proper. It was just the guys, all 6 of us, but a crowd emerged after we'd done a couple of bars. Everywhere you arrive, big rubber tube in hand, you're plied with free shots. The music is consistently awesome all the way down and every bar is banging all day. After one bucket the rope swings and the zip lines seem like the most awesome idea on Earth. Inspired by Bentley, who is such an adrenaline junkie that he will jump off of any available platform as long as the water exists below, we all swung and threw ourselves into the stream. The drunker you get, the more the rush of flying, the more natural letting go feels. I personally exorcised a lot of demons by throwing myself off of 30 feet platforms repeatedly. Arun fulfilled a promise that he'd made often on the trip and as soon as 'Woo Boost' started playing he threw up everywhere. The look of horrofied expectation was mixed with a knowing smile as he leaned over the balcony.
The whole thing is wild. Vang Vieng doesn't stop all day and getting swept up is inevitable. The late club, QBar, which doesn't close until midnight, blasts out pumping music non-stop. This day left us wrecked the next day, so we decided to find a little slice of paradise and chill all day. Bentley, Arun, Graham and I opted for more mushroom shakes and had the trip of a lifetime all day whilst Rory and Steven drank. The proof of our friendships was shown in how well our varying vibes worked on this day, although the location was inspiring enough to chill anyone out. We were sat riverside in hammocks and on beds, the spectacular cliffs opposite making for a beautiful orange sunset. Bentley and I stuck our faces in the strong current and let our bodies drift quickly down the water. We came out exillerated and started dancing on platforms to the dubstep Rory had put on behind the bar. The quiet Thai owners smiled at us, their only customers all day, watching us in bliss.
After having had another day's tubing, this time without tubes, since our trip in paradise we've all fallen in love with Vang Vieng. The reputation might be one of debauchery but really the atmosphere is completely unique. The second day tubing left us all split up but still partying on, still throwing ourselves from great heights into the water and still able to stand after gallons of alcohol. Each night we've owned the dancefloor at QBar and met dozens of people. Today, we got bikes and cycled out for more tranquillity at the Blue Lagoon, a bright blue pool of freezing cold water that feels like it washes off any sins, which we also sweated out with a couple of hours playing football tennis. Having fun comes so naturally here that it's unavoidable. Despite my bad news, it's an incredible time in my life and a totally beautiful place on Earth. I could not have asked for anything more.
Friday
[2Pac vs. Predator: It's Super Effective!]
For the last couple of days, we've been traveling around Laos in jeans and hoodies, sheltering from drizzle and nursing colds. In complete contrast to the start of our week, which was as hot as the rest of the trip had been, Laos suddenly went very 'England' on us. We celebrated the fact by finding an incredible English pub in the capital and took our new Canadian friends out for their first bangers & mash and steak & ale pies.
Due to our common desire to visit Kong Lo Caves, in the last week we've become a group of eleven. Rory, Arun and I are now convinced that Canadians are some of the best folk on Earth as the dudes we've hooked up with, Steven, Graham and Bentley are amongst the coolest people we've met out here. Steven has joined Rory and I on bar-propping duties, us three usually being the last out. The Canadian girls, Roxanne and Lindsay, as well as our Brits - Harriet, Luke and Sarah - make up the rest of the huge ensemble cast. The chat is hilarious and has helped no end on the three long bus journeys we've suffered through this week.
The first bus, an uncomfortable ride after a big night out on Don Det island, trudged through southern Laos until we finally arrived at a little town called Tha Khek, the stomping ground of those tourists wishing to visit Kong Lo Caves. The bus ride became ridiculous. Every time Rory and I jumped off to grab a quick cigarette at some tiny little shack selling Lays and Coke in the middle of the countryside, we were ushered back on, only to wait a further 10 minutes for the thing to start up again and stop about 50 metres down the road. Shithead got us through this one, Rory Bentley and I battling against the darkness to keep on playing, darkness that had only arrived because the trip took double the expected time and dropped us off at 1 a.m. We bedded down, hoping to get some scooters and head to the caves the next day, writing off any chance of an interesting night in the knowledge that all but the most underground places in Laos close at 11 p.m. When we woke we moved ourselves across town to be more central, we discovered that scooters were impossible for that day and we'd have to leave the trip until tomorrow. "So, what do we do in Tha Khek?" one of the boys asked. The riverside bar was the answer and we took a slow stroll down through town, passing the same three shops dozens of times; liquor and food shops, clinics, and garages. That is all there is to Tha Khek until you reach the Mekong River at the edge of town where you can sit in one of three or four bars, get a cheap beer and look across the vast water at Thailand on the other side. At this stage, the sun was still bliazing down on Harriet's, Bentley's and my back as we sat on a wall. In great spirits, we staggered in threes and pairs back up to our new guesthouse, arriving just in time to see the start of the bonfire that they set up each night.
With the BeerLao and Lao Lao vodka flowing back at our place and all eight boys squashed in to one dorm room together, the night got rowdy. By the end of the night we were slurring hilarities at one another on the balcony, the kind of comments that are forgotten forever the next morning.
The following day proved to be both inspiring and challenging. We all woke up feeling awful, especially Arun who'd been on the wrong end of five bodyslams the night before. One by one we all left the room to shower or ablute and one by one we all returned, stunned by how cold it had gotten. I made the mistake of persevering with only shorts, flip-flops and a t-shirt and developed a nasty cold as the day wore on. We stuffed ourselves in to a minivan for the three hour drive up to the caves, most people not getting a proper seat but working out some strange leg and arm arrangements for napping. As we stopped at a small shack for lunch, the rain began to pour and we became increasingly cold. It stayed like this until we reached the entrance of the caves where we not only got shelter but all felt a sudden warm breeze. Literally every one of us celebrated. "Cavemen had it sorted! Central heating and everything!" It was extreme relief.
You walk down into the mouth of the caves, perhaps three stories high, and get in to a longtail boat three-by-three that sits just above the floor of the river which runs the entire length of the cave. After thirty seconds zipping along with that warm air blowing in your face, everything becomes pitch black and only torches can illuminate the huge hole in the Earth in which you find yourself. Each of our minds were blown; we heard distant echoed cries of "ho-ly shit!" from the other boats when someone turned a corner and entered an area even more massive than the last. Kong Lo Caves is unlike anything any of us had seen before with its giant stalagtites hanging precariously above your head and little, perhaps unexplored caverns going deeper in to mysterious places. After the 7 mile trip one way through you turn back on yourself and do it all in reverse, realising that the place is equally as fascinating the second time round.
Despite being enlightened and revitalised by the experience, we all found the minivan ride home punishing. Again it was dark when we got back and this time the bonfire was roaring. We all sat around it to warm and dry ourselves, accidentally re-introducing ourselves to people we'd met the night before in a stupor, none of us able to handle more than a couple of beers before crashing in the dorm.
Our final bus ride of the week, VIP all the way to the Laos capital of Vientiane, was by far the least punishing. The chairs, which had awesome headrests, reclined; the TV played Ong-Bak; we got given free water. The only problem was the A/C which blasted the bus into a freeze which made at least half of our colds much worse. We all passed around paracetemol and codeine and valium to try and fix ourselves but i found thta the best cure was empathy as i had a great talk with Bentley most of the way about our plans, how we should hang out in Canada and what to do in a zombie apocalypse. The rain got worse as we went north and was torrential by the time we reached Vientiane. After treating ourselves and the Canadians to the aforementioned British food we started the drinking. "There's only one thing for this cold," I said to Rory, "tequilla!"
The night out was fantastic, finished in style by the usual threesome of Rory, Steven and I in a dreadful Laos club located on the third floor of a plush hotel. It was all businessmen indulging in the so-called "karaoke" booths and the DJ hammered out obnoxious pop music. We had an incredible laugh. The three of us had had great practice at this ever since we met in beautiful Don Det the week before. There'd been more than one night that we'd all been sprawled across our balcony on the river playing those last few rounds of cards, delicately finishing that last big BeerLao and laughing non-stop. This was how the first night in Vientiane went too, except minus a balcony we were forced to wander the town.
Due to our common desire to visit Kong Lo Caves, in the last week we've become a group of eleven. Rory, Arun and I are now convinced that Canadians are some of the best folk on Earth as the dudes we've hooked up with, Steven, Graham and Bentley are amongst the coolest people we've met out here. Steven has joined Rory and I on bar-propping duties, us three usually being the last out. The Canadian girls, Roxanne and Lindsay, as well as our Brits - Harriet, Luke and Sarah - make up the rest of the huge ensemble cast. The chat is hilarious and has helped no end on the three long bus journeys we've suffered through this week.
The first bus, an uncomfortable ride after a big night out on Don Det island, trudged through southern Laos until we finally arrived at a little town called Tha Khek, the stomping ground of those tourists wishing to visit Kong Lo Caves. The bus ride became ridiculous. Every time Rory and I jumped off to grab a quick cigarette at some tiny little shack selling Lays and Coke in the middle of the countryside, we were ushered back on, only to wait a further 10 minutes for the thing to start up again and stop about 50 metres down the road. Shithead got us through this one, Rory Bentley and I battling against the darkness to keep on playing, darkness that had only arrived because the trip took double the expected time and dropped us off at 1 a.m. We bedded down, hoping to get some scooters and head to the caves the next day, writing off any chance of an interesting night in the knowledge that all but the most underground places in Laos close at 11 p.m. When we woke we moved ourselves across town to be more central, we discovered that scooters were impossible for that day and we'd have to leave the trip until tomorrow. "So, what do we do in Tha Khek?" one of the boys asked. The riverside bar was the answer and we took a slow stroll down through town, passing the same three shops dozens of times; liquor and food shops, clinics, and garages. That is all there is to Tha Khek until you reach the Mekong River at the edge of town where you can sit in one of three or four bars, get a cheap beer and look across the vast water at Thailand on the other side. At this stage, the sun was still bliazing down on Harriet's, Bentley's and my back as we sat on a wall. In great spirits, we staggered in threes and pairs back up to our new guesthouse, arriving just in time to see the start of the bonfire that they set up each night.
With the BeerLao and Lao Lao vodka flowing back at our place and all eight boys squashed in to one dorm room together, the night got rowdy. By the end of the night we were slurring hilarities at one another on the balcony, the kind of comments that are forgotten forever the next morning.
The following day proved to be both inspiring and challenging. We all woke up feeling awful, especially Arun who'd been on the wrong end of five bodyslams the night before. One by one we all left the room to shower or ablute and one by one we all returned, stunned by how cold it had gotten. I made the mistake of persevering with only shorts, flip-flops and a t-shirt and developed a nasty cold as the day wore on. We stuffed ourselves in to a minivan for the three hour drive up to the caves, most people not getting a proper seat but working out some strange leg and arm arrangements for napping. As we stopped at a small shack for lunch, the rain began to pour and we became increasingly cold. It stayed like this until we reached the entrance of the caves where we not only got shelter but all felt a sudden warm breeze. Literally every one of us celebrated. "Cavemen had it sorted! Central heating and everything!" It was extreme relief.
You walk down into the mouth of the caves, perhaps three stories high, and get in to a longtail boat three-by-three that sits just above the floor of the river which runs the entire length of the cave. After thirty seconds zipping along with that warm air blowing in your face, everything becomes pitch black and only torches can illuminate the huge hole in the Earth in which you find yourself. Each of our minds were blown; we heard distant echoed cries of "ho-ly shit!" from the other boats when someone turned a corner and entered an area even more massive than the last. Kong Lo Caves is unlike anything any of us had seen before with its giant stalagtites hanging precariously above your head and little, perhaps unexplored caverns going deeper in to mysterious places. After the 7 mile trip one way through you turn back on yourself and do it all in reverse, realising that the place is equally as fascinating the second time round.
Despite being enlightened and revitalised by the experience, we all found the minivan ride home punishing. Again it was dark when we got back and this time the bonfire was roaring. We all sat around it to warm and dry ourselves, accidentally re-introducing ourselves to people we'd met the night before in a stupor, none of us able to handle more than a couple of beers before crashing in the dorm.
Our final bus ride of the week, VIP all the way to the Laos capital of Vientiane, was by far the least punishing. The chairs, which had awesome headrests, reclined; the TV played Ong-Bak; we got given free water. The only problem was the A/C which blasted the bus into a freeze which made at least half of our colds much worse. We all passed around paracetemol and codeine and valium to try and fix ourselves but i found thta the best cure was empathy as i had a great talk with Bentley most of the way about our plans, how we should hang out in Canada and what to do in a zombie apocalypse. The rain got worse as we went north and was torrential by the time we reached Vientiane. After treating ourselves and the Canadians to the aforementioned British food we started the drinking. "There's only one thing for this cold," I said to Rory, "tequilla!"
The night out was fantastic, finished in style by the usual threesome of Rory, Steven and I in a dreadful Laos club located on the third floor of a plush hotel. It was all businessmen indulging in the so-called "karaoke" booths and the DJ hammered out obnoxious pop music. We had an incredible laugh. The three of us had had great practice at this ever since we met in beautiful Don Det the week before. There'd been more than one night that we'd all been sprawled across our balcony on the river playing those last few rounds of cards, delicately finishing that last big BeerLao and laughing non-stop. This was how the first night in Vientiane went too, except minus a balcony we were forced to wander the town.
Sunday
[Save the Beer, Fuck John]
Tol, the tuk-tuk driver who we'd been hanging out with in Siem Reap, had a hell of a night planned for us. As our coach was at 5.30 a.m. the sensible thing to do was to drink right through and then try to catch a bit of sleep on the long bus ride. During the day we'd rounded up a number of new friends staying at the same guesthouse as us and we all got Tol to take us to the best barbeque he knew. We ended up at a similar little Cambodian local to the one we'd visited in Phnom Penh. Again our glasses were never empty of beer and a block of ice, the cries of "chul moi! Bottoms up!" never ceased, and our tuk-tuk drivers did a little bit of slow karaoke as we took the role of backing dancers. We had approximately 5 cows worth of freshly barbequed beef between us and then drove back across town for a night on the town with Tol.
We arrived at Pub Street, partied, drank and played pool, and then suddenly at around 6 a.m. i woke up on the roof terrace of Okay Villas. "What's the time?" I screamed to no-one and bolted down 6 flights of stairs to find Arun and Rory in the lobby, having looked for me everywhere. "I missed the bus, didn't I." They nodded. We all decided to leave the next day instead. I got back into bed sheepishly.
We made the most of our extra day in Siem Reap, having a few beers after a big sleep and then wandering round the night market before wandering in to a cool roof-top bar away from the main strip. Playing more pool and drinking more beers we got to know some of the Brits and Cambodians in there. "No-one is going to miss the bus tonight, right John?" Arun repeated, becoming slightly more slurred as the night went on. We turned in early and the next thing i knew, Rory was waking me up and we headed downstairs to put our bags next to Arun's. "Where's Arun?" we started wondering, a little blurry eyed. We had no idea. I sprinted around the place looking for another drunken zombie who gotten lost in a haze of Cambodian alcohol. At 6.30 a.m. i heard his voice. "What time is it?" he was asking the corridor. "Too late!" i shouted back up the stairs. Again, we had to slip back into bed, again the staff at the guesthouse were helpful but also mocked our stupidity.
So, it was a time-wasting, chill-out kind of day that none of us wanted to have but we couldn't afford to say we didn't enjoy. The pool on our roof is beautiful, the sun travels overhead, at times blistering and at times creating filmic shadows across the roof. We had a deliberately quiet dinner and managed to finally wake up in time for our bus to Laos. It took 12 hours in the end, as well as a few 'extra payments' along the way, which were unexpected and part of various people's scams but unavoidable. On the way we all got chatting to Harriet, another East-Midlander who has now joined us on our travels. We introduced her to shithead, apparently the most widely known card-game in the world, and she showed us hearts, which has been our favourite game since. We must have been the loud ones on the bus, despite our tiredness, as over the next few days we've accumulated a few more mates who heard us and have sinced introduced themselves.
After darkness had fallen and our bus arrived across the Cambodia-Laos border, a taxi took us up a dirt path. In front of us a digger began to actually dig the rest of the road, as we trundled along behind. We all joked that we might not be in the right place, but it turned out that we were simply in Laos now, and everything is different. A long-tail boat took us across the silent river to our 1 of the '4000 Islands' that make up the south of Laos. We're on Don Det, a well set-up, cheap little tourist trap that's neither too busy nor too quiet, bringing chilled-out to a new level of serenity. You live on the river in wooden bungalows; a bed, a fan, a mosquito net and that's your lot. On our shared balcony, Arun, Rory, Harriet and I have been chilling in hammocks every morning before breakfast and bringing everyone back to our place once the island shuts down at 11. The beer in Laos is called BeerLao and the vodka is called Lao-Lao Vodka. After our first night drinking, the four of us decided we all needed to sweat out our sins and so we hired bikes and rode an hour along bumpy, dirty pathways deeper in to the island forests before emerging at an incredible set of waterfall-rapids. They tore through the rocks creating a deafening sound like static and a cool mist swirled around us.
The ride back was a long one but on the way we booked a boat tour for the following day. The man who ran the show, Mr. Loy, said "bring more friends!" so we were on a mission that evening to fill up our boat. We bumped into the couple we'd met on the bus, Luke and Sarah, and they were immediately in for the boat. After dinner that night, another Indian feast, Luke and Sarah joined us on our balcony along with Steven, our newest Canadian friend who does not have good luck at chase-the-ace. Steven said he'd meet us at the bar next door the next morning with his mates, Graham and Bentley, that way we'd have a party of nine to fill up the boat. After a heavy vodka hangover was slightly washed away, the nine of us convened on time in the bar for breakfast, before loading up with beer and crisps for the boat ride. We had a hilarious day, everyone getting in on the hijinks as the boat took us to a deserted beach and the driver set up a clay barbeque for chicken and fish. We dived around the water, played some football and sat around eating, occassionally making the place seem raucous but sometimes letting the tranquility of our surroundings take control. It's difficult not to have silent moments, especially at sunset when the sky turns purple and nothing anyone says could be more interesting.
So the lot of us have met and may travel on together after today. We're from all over the world, in the middle of 4000 beautiful islands, heading north in a day or two towards some apparently stunning caves.
We arrived at Pub Street, partied, drank and played pool, and then suddenly at around 6 a.m. i woke up on the roof terrace of Okay Villas. "What's the time?" I screamed to no-one and bolted down 6 flights of stairs to find Arun and Rory in the lobby, having looked for me everywhere. "I missed the bus, didn't I." They nodded. We all decided to leave the next day instead. I got back into bed sheepishly.
We made the most of our extra day in Siem Reap, having a few beers after a big sleep and then wandering round the night market before wandering in to a cool roof-top bar away from the main strip. Playing more pool and drinking more beers we got to know some of the Brits and Cambodians in there. "No-one is going to miss the bus tonight, right John?" Arun repeated, becoming slightly more slurred as the night went on. We turned in early and the next thing i knew, Rory was waking me up and we headed downstairs to put our bags next to Arun's. "Where's Arun?" we started wondering, a little blurry eyed. We had no idea. I sprinted around the place looking for another drunken zombie who gotten lost in a haze of Cambodian alcohol. At 6.30 a.m. i heard his voice. "What time is it?" he was asking the corridor. "Too late!" i shouted back up the stairs. Again, we had to slip back into bed, again the staff at the guesthouse were helpful but also mocked our stupidity.
So, it was a time-wasting, chill-out kind of day that none of us wanted to have but we couldn't afford to say we didn't enjoy. The pool on our roof is beautiful, the sun travels overhead, at times blistering and at times creating filmic shadows across the roof. We had a deliberately quiet dinner and managed to finally wake up in time for our bus to Laos. It took 12 hours in the end, as well as a few 'extra payments' along the way, which were unexpected and part of various people's scams but unavoidable. On the way we all got chatting to Harriet, another East-Midlander who has now joined us on our travels. We introduced her to shithead, apparently the most widely known card-game in the world, and she showed us hearts, which has been our favourite game since. We must have been the loud ones on the bus, despite our tiredness, as over the next few days we've accumulated a few more mates who heard us and have sinced introduced themselves.
After darkness had fallen and our bus arrived across the Cambodia-Laos border, a taxi took us up a dirt path. In front of us a digger began to actually dig the rest of the road, as we trundled along behind. We all joked that we might not be in the right place, but it turned out that we were simply in Laos now, and everything is different. A long-tail boat took us across the silent river to our 1 of the '4000 Islands' that make up the south of Laos. We're on Don Det, a well set-up, cheap little tourist trap that's neither too busy nor too quiet, bringing chilled-out to a new level of serenity. You live on the river in wooden bungalows; a bed, a fan, a mosquito net and that's your lot. On our shared balcony, Arun, Rory, Harriet and I have been chilling in hammocks every morning before breakfast and bringing everyone back to our place once the island shuts down at 11. The beer in Laos is called BeerLao and the vodka is called Lao-Lao Vodka. After our first night drinking, the four of us decided we all needed to sweat out our sins and so we hired bikes and rode an hour along bumpy, dirty pathways deeper in to the island forests before emerging at an incredible set of waterfall-rapids. They tore through the rocks creating a deafening sound like static and a cool mist swirled around us.
The ride back was a long one but on the way we booked a boat tour for the following day. The man who ran the show, Mr. Loy, said "bring more friends!" so we were on a mission that evening to fill up our boat. We bumped into the couple we'd met on the bus, Luke and Sarah, and they were immediately in for the boat. After dinner that night, another Indian feast, Luke and Sarah joined us on our balcony along with Steven, our newest Canadian friend who does not have good luck at chase-the-ace. Steven said he'd meet us at the bar next door the next morning with his mates, Graham and Bentley, that way we'd have a party of nine to fill up the boat. After a heavy vodka hangover was slightly washed away, the nine of us convened on time in the bar for breakfast, before loading up with beer and crisps for the boat ride. We had a hilarious day, everyone getting in on the hijinks as the boat took us to a deserted beach and the driver set up a clay barbeque for chicken and fish. We dived around the water, played some football and sat around eating, occassionally making the place seem raucous but sometimes letting the tranquility of our surroundings take control. It's difficult not to have silent moments, especially at sunset when the sky turns purple and nothing anyone says could be more interesting.
So the lot of us have met and may travel on together after today. We're from all over the world, in the middle of 4000 beautiful islands, heading north in a day or two towards some apparently stunning caves.
Monday
[You Can't See Me]
The full-English breakfasts at Okay Villas are exactly the same as those at Okay Guesthouse. Not that our traveling diet has been unadventurous, but the breakfasts at the Okay chain have kept us going through two cities and are unparalleled. We all got one after our big sleep and retired immediately poolside, giving ourselves a day to recuperate and read. I Finished Fear and Loathing but as soon as i had my tooth started to hurt. They've been aching a few days, feeling better today, but nothing distracts you from having a good time like toothache. Luckily there's been more than enough to offer in the last few days to distract me.
On our first night proper in Siem Reap we arrived at the aptly named Pub Street, number one backpacker drinking hole in town where cool Khmer restaurants sit alongside typical Italian, Mexican and Indian places. We chose Mexican this time but after a tequila we were more interested in the bar across the road belting out hip-hop with alarming consistency. Some intense rounds of shithead later and we ventured on to Pub Street for a few more drinks and a night playing pool. When back at home, Rory and I drank and chatted on the balcony, only to return to the room and find Arun knocking quietly on the door. We felt bad, but something got the better of me and as soon as we'd let Arun in to go to bed, i felt the need to shout "Stone Cold Stunner!" and promptly smashed down on top of him. This sparked about 1 hour of wrestling, inspired no doubt by the hours of wrestling we'd caught on TVs around here since our arrival and the jokes that have caught on. All of which resulted in a late, late start the next day which the staff at our hotel found highly amusing. Our next day mainly involved dragging ourselves out in the evening for a Khmer-style barbecue, where you're given a gas-stove and a waiter cooks the seven different plates of meat in front of you. We got crocodile, snake, goat, beef and some others, dipped in pepper and lemon and chili spices.
Rory and I opted for a few more drinks and some more pool in a bar named Angkor What? after the largest Hindu (now Buddhist) temple in the world up the road, which we were due to visit the next day. We racked up a couple of games and before long we'd gathered a gang of about 10 people, some Ozzies, Brits, Polish and a Canadian. We played killer, a knockout game that loads can play at once, until the drink got the better of all of us and we moved out into the crowd to dance, sit, chat and smoke for the rest of the night. There were some genuinely fun people in the club that night and what had started as pool had ended with a great night involving new mates and a hell of a laugh.
Angkor Wat
You take a tuk-tuk down a long, straight road out of north Siem Reap. It's built for one location only and is lined by dense woodland on all sides. Eventually there's a clearing ahead, a huge man-made moat that stretches round a corner towards Angkor Wat, the most spectacular sight in Cambodia. It's the number-one tourist trap, but really its name is deceptive in that what you hire a tuk-tuk for is to speed between five or six different sites, all in the region of Angkor, that display Khmer architecture from the 9th to the 12th century. Each place you arrive at has another temple, built in a stunningly simple yet detailed fashion. The first stop and big-dog of the tour is Angkor Wat itself, a huge complex dedicated to the God Vishnu, with statues of he and other deities dotted around the temples. It's a venerated site for some reason, our tour guide, Jon, explained; it had been built by piling up lava-stone over 37 years into a 60-metre high structure and adorned with sandstone carvings on every single surface, each of which depicts in painstaking detail different figures from various mythologies. The story of the king and his grand battle takes up 100-metres of wall, running like a film reel as you walk past. We wandered with our guide explaining the various aspects of the temple and were all spellbound by its magnitude and history. Through weary eyes, Rory and i were awoken by the place, especially taking in the cool breeze from the very top tower.
Our driver, Tol, has stayed with us for our two day visit and we let him guide us around the rest of the temples and ruins in Angkor. Each had its own charm, some ruins, some thrived upon by gigantic trees whose roots were golden and extended right round the rocks. I got separated in the second temple, a maze of different levels and unexpected avenues. Whilst wandering i was approached by a young monk named Savem and we discussed tourism, religion and family until heading out to meet Rory, Arun and Tol. Savem ended up cruising round the rest of the area and joined us in the slow climb up "The Mountain," another huge platform-come-temple where the hordes gather to watch westward toward the setting sun. We cracked open a beer and watched the sky turn purple once more over the flat green lands of Cambodia.
The day out left us all jaded, so after a ride back with Tol and Savem we ate dinner and crashed. The next day Tol had promised to take Arun and I to visit Angkor again. He whisked us out in the morning, back through the forest, down to a park about 30 minutes away from Angkor Wat. It contained the oldest ruin in the area and took us a good couple of hours to wander around, stopping for ice-tea and to view the adjoined museum which explained the complex history of the whole of Angkor, the French and Portuguese explorers who had rediscovered most of the sites, the varying religious narratives and influences, all of which wrapped up the tale of the place.
When we found Tol again, passing the ubiquitous young kids selling postcards and scarves, feeling no less guilty at our refusal to buy, he said "now let's go to my family's farm." He'd promised as much the previous day but we'd not thought it to be true, so without knowing what to expect we were driven through the countryside out towards a rickety shack surrounded by mango and jack fruit trees. His family greeted us with slices of the fruits to eat, the freshest sweetest (and first) jack fruit i've ever eaten. He guided us round the small area on which they subsisted and translated a basic conversation with his family. Arun gave his aunt a shock when, during a thunderstorm, he took a photo with flash and made us all think it was lightening, big laughs all round. We've booked our tickets out of Cambodia now, we're bound for the south of Laos on a long coach trip which leaves at 5.30 a.m. tomorrow. As a closing experience in the country it was unmatched.
On our first night proper in Siem Reap we arrived at the aptly named Pub Street, number one backpacker drinking hole in town where cool Khmer restaurants sit alongside typical Italian, Mexican and Indian places. We chose Mexican this time but after a tequila we were more interested in the bar across the road belting out hip-hop with alarming consistency. Some intense rounds of shithead later and we ventured on to Pub Street for a few more drinks and a night playing pool. When back at home, Rory and I drank and chatted on the balcony, only to return to the room and find Arun knocking quietly on the door. We felt bad, but something got the better of me and as soon as we'd let Arun in to go to bed, i felt the need to shout "Stone Cold Stunner!" and promptly smashed down on top of him. This sparked about 1 hour of wrestling, inspired no doubt by the hours of wrestling we'd caught on TVs around here since our arrival and the jokes that have caught on. All of which resulted in a late, late start the next day which the staff at our hotel found highly amusing. Our next day mainly involved dragging ourselves out in the evening for a Khmer-style barbecue, where you're given a gas-stove and a waiter cooks the seven different plates of meat in front of you. We got crocodile, snake, goat, beef and some others, dipped in pepper and lemon and chili spices.
Rory and I opted for a few more drinks and some more pool in a bar named Angkor What? after the largest Hindu (now Buddhist) temple in the world up the road, which we were due to visit the next day. We racked up a couple of games and before long we'd gathered a gang of about 10 people, some Ozzies, Brits, Polish and a Canadian. We played killer, a knockout game that loads can play at once, until the drink got the better of all of us and we moved out into the crowd to dance, sit, chat and smoke for the rest of the night. There were some genuinely fun people in the club that night and what had started as pool had ended with a great night involving new mates and a hell of a laugh.
Angkor Wat
You take a tuk-tuk down a long, straight road out of north Siem Reap. It's built for one location only and is lined by dense woodland on all sides. Eventually there's a clearing ahead, a huge man-made moat that stretches round a corner towards Angkor Wat, the most spectacular sight in Cambodia. It's the number-one tourist trap, but really its name is deceptive in that what you hire a tuk-tuk for is to speed between five or six different sites, all in the region of Angkor, that display Khmer architecture from the 9th to the 12th century. Each place you arrive at has another temple, built in a stunningly simple yet detailed fashion. The first stop and big-dog of the tour is Angkor Wat itself, a huge complex dedicated to the God Vishnu, with statues of he and other deities dotted around the temples. It's a venerated site for some reason, our tour guide, Jon, explained; it had been built by piling up lava-stone over 37 years into a 60-metre high structure and adorned with sandstone carvings on every single surface, each of which depicts in painstaking detail different figures from various mythologies. The story of the king and his grand battle takes up 100-metres of wall, running like a film reel as you walk past. We wandered with our guide explaining the various aspects of the temple and were all spellbound by its magnitude and history. Through weary eyes, Rory and i were awoken by the place, especially taking in the cool breeze from the very top tower.
Our driver, Tol, has stayed with us for our two day visit and we let him guide us around the rest of the temples and ruins in Angkor. Each had its own charm, some ruins, some thrived upon by gigantic trees whose roots were golden and extended right round the rocks. I got separated in the second temple, a maze of different levels and unexpected avenues. Whilst wandering i was approached by a young monk named Savem and we discussed tourism, religion and family until heading out to meet Rory, Arun and Tol. Savem ended up cruising round the rest of the area and joined us in the slow climb up "The Mountain," another huge platform-come-temple where the hordes gather to watch westward toward the setting sun. We cracked open a beer and watched the sky turn purple once more over the flat green lands of Cambodia.
The day out left us all jaded, so after a ride back with Tol and Savem we ate dinner and crashed. The next day Tol had promised to take Arun and I to visit Angkor again. He whisked us out in the morning, back through the forest, down to a park about 30 minutes away from Angkor Wat. It contained the oldest ruin in the area and took us a good couple of hours to wander around, stopping for ice-tea and to view the adjoined museum which explained the complex history of the whole of Angkor, the French and Portuguese explorers who had rediscovered most of the sites, the varying religious narratives and influences, all of which wrapped up the tale of the place.
When we found Tol again, passing the ubiquitous young kids selling postcards and scarves, feeling no less guilty at our refusal to buy, he said "now let's go to my family's farm." He'd promised as much the previous day but we'd not thought it to be true, so without knowing what to expect we were driven through the countryside out towards a rickety shack surrounded by mango and jack fruit trees. His family greeted us with slices of the fruits to eat, the freshest sweetest (and first) jack fruit i've ever eaten. He guided us round the small area on which they subsisted and translated a basic conversation with his family. Arun gave his aunt a shock when, during a thunderstorm, he took a photo with flash and made us all think it was lightening, big laughs all round. We've booked our tickets out of Cambodia now, we're bound for the south of Laos on a long coach trip which leaves at 5.30 a.m. tomorrow. As a closing experience in the country it was unmatched.
Friday
[The Painful End of the Lollipop Kids]
Shortly after writing my last blog entry, i walked across to the man at the desk and opened my wallet. Not for the first time that day, you understand. But in my hazy, drunken stupor, wholly conducted behind purple-tinted sunglasses, i'd managed to pay for breakfast and 2 litres of water without realising that i'd been robbed of $120 the previous night.
As i headed back to my chair, telling the man that i'd like to carry on using the slow, burnt out computer as it was the only activity i could afford at this point, the story i told some of my friends via email begun to unfold in my head. Once my session of delayed online consolation was over and Rich had been saluted goodbye I went to sit with Rory and Cam for a big full English who each relayed to me their tiny glimpses into my previous night. Evidently, in the space of ten seconds, i'd been blind-sided by a katoi (lady-boy) on a dancefloor who had grabbed me, groped me, snatched my wallet and taken the cash before slipping the wallet back into my pocket, all without me noticing. I'd left soon after, feeling something had gone awry but completely unsure of what, apparently able to pay a tuk-tuk driver, again without understanding my new-found poverty.
And so the day was spent wasting time online next to Arun, with Rory asleep on the swinging wooden bench outside, each of us nursing a two-day Phnom Penh ultra-hangover. The day drifted on slowly, my main actions consisting of a mango shake and a reluctant trip to the ATM to withdraw another $200. At around 5, sitting in Okay Guesthouse's busy little eatery and reading Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, I was struck by hunger pangs. I ordered noodle soup and began to feel much better, which actually came to be to my detriment when Cam staggered down from his room, announcing that tonight was most likely to be his last night. This left me, and a short while later, Rory, in a conundrum. There was no chance that we could go out, but no chance we could stay in. Rory and Arun had taken huge naps that day and were not in a position to get an early night, and as all of us looked at each other with bright red-bull eyes, a silent contemplation went on as to our night ahead. Then, out of nowhere, a couple of friends we'd met on our last visit to the city strolled in to the restaurant shouting "John Tween! You'd better be coming drinking tonight!" And so it was settled.
It was our typical night out in Phnom Penh. Down to Yike restaurant to grab some chicken amok with our favourite waitresses before closing time, a tuk-tuk to street 51, grab a small bottle of whiskey to drink on the roadside hot-dog stand's plastic chairs, off to an outside bar for a cheap beer, then delve into the Heart of Darkness, a club so mind-mangling that anyone who enters has at least half an hour of their life missing the next morning. Cam had a fantastic last night though, keeping us all going with his now cliched round of tequillas which our new Cambodian friends also got in on. None of us made it home early; Arun was temporarily barman in one of our local friends' bars, serving mainly himself free beers and waters; all of us reconvened in the restaurant in time for breakfast.
We had a bus booked a few hours later to thankfully take us away from this incredible, fast-paced, occasionally nightmarish city. We (now just myself, Rory and Arun) hugged Cam goodbye and were shoved into a packed, scorched mini-bus that 20 sweaty minutes later dumped us outside our coach, bound for the far more laid back, far less deranged city of Siem Reap. The road was long and bumpy, the coach old and the on-board A/C an indispensable trickle of cold air. I am too lanky to sleep on anything other than the most plush of public transports, so a rested my eyes and kicked back to 7 hours of shuffled music, calmed by 'Tribe and confused by Radiohead. We were all suffering from exhaustion once we arrived in Siem Reap, having sweated out any hint of a hangover. We had been ushered from one guesthouse to the next thanks to our close acquaintance with the manager of Okay guesthouse who'd recommended Okay villas for our next stop. For this, we are hugely grateful. We expected nothing more than we'd had in Phnom Penh - a bed, a fan, $8 rooms with a relaxed and friendly vibe from all customers and staff downstairs.
"Is this the place?" Rory asked with a kind of astounded suspicion as we exited our private tuk-tuk and stood, jaws-on-the-floor, looking at the beautiful colonial architecture in front of us. We walked barefoot across the pristine marble floor, past the 42-inch screen in the lobby-restaurant and up to the sturdy mahogany desk. The place is stunning. We're sharing a three single-bedded room with A/C and cable tv for $8 each. On the 6th floor roof is a stunning view of the city's rooftops and a not-too-small pool. We all grabbed a warm shower and reclined on our massive beds, commenting intermittently that we "just couldn't believe that we'd got this room!"
As it was barely 8 in the evening, we chose to drag ourselves off of the beds and lurch down to the night-market. We arrived at a busy but quiet place, confronted on all sides by fantastic cloths and infinite tiny Buddhas on sale, a labyrinthine treasure trove of mostly pointless but incredibly tempting gifts. None of us having not eaten for more than 10 hours we settled below a bright yellow sign for Curry Walla and indulged in a fantastic shared platter of samosas, jahlfrezi, butter chicken and garlic naans which was delicious but hit us all heavily, like a proper curry, so it was back to Okay villas to sprawl across the cool white sheets and take in the best sleep we've had yet.
As i headed back to my chair, telling the man that i'd like to carry on using the slow, burnt out computer as it was the only activity i could afford at this point, the story i told some of my friends via email begun to unfold in my head. Once my session of delayed online consolation was over and Rich had been saluted goodbye I went to sit with Rory and Cam for a big full English who each relayed to me their tiny glimpses into my previous night. Evidently, in the space of ten seconds, i'd been blind-sided by a katoi (lady-boy) on a dancefloor who had grabbed me, groped me, snatched my wallet and taken the cash before slipping the wallet back into my pocket, all without me noticing. I'd left soon after, feeling something had gone awry but completely unsure of what, apparently able to pay a tuk-tuk driver, again without understanding my new-found poverty.
And so the day was spent wasting time online next to Arun, with Rory asleep on the swinging wooden bench outside, each of us nursing a two-day Phnom Penh ultra-hangover. The day drifted on slowly, my main actions consisting of a mango shake and a reluctant trip to the ATM to withdraw another $200. At around 5, sitting in Okay Guesthouse's busy little eatery and reading Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, I was struck by hunger pangs. I ordered noodle soup and began to feel much better, which actually came to be to my detriment when Cam staggered down from his room, announcing that tonight was most likely to be his last night. This left me, and a short while later, Rory, in a conundrum. There was no chance that we could go out, but no chance we could stay in. Rory and Arun had taken huge naps that day and were not in a position to get an early night, and as all of us looked at each other with bright red-bull eyes, a silent contemplation went on as to our night ahead. Then, out of nowhere, a couple of friends we'd met on our last visit to the city strolled in to the restaurant shouting "John Tween! You'd better be coming drinking tonight!" And so it was settled.
It was our typical night out in Phnom Penh. Down to Yike restaurant to grab some chicken amok with our favourite waitresses before closing time, a tuk-tuk to street 51, grab a small bottle of whiskey to drink on the roadside hot-dog stand's plastic chairs, off to an outside bar for a cheap beer, then delve into the Heart of Darkness, a club so mind-mangling that anyone who enters has at least half an hour of their life missing the next morning. Cam had a fantastic last night though, keeping us all going with his now cliched round of tequillas which our new Cambodian friends also got in on. None of us made it home early; Arun was temporarily barman in one of our local friends' bars, serving mainly himself free beers and waters; all of us reconvened in the restaurant in time for breakfast.
We had a bus booked a few hours later to thankfully take us away from this incredible, fast-paced, occasionally nightmarish city. We (now just myself, Rory and Arun) hugged Cam goodbye and were shoved into a packed, scorched mini-bus that 20 sweaty minutes later dumped us outside our coach, bound for the far more laid back, far less deranged city of Siem Reap. The road was long and bumpy, the coach old and the on-board A/C an indispensable trickle of cold air. I am too lanky to sleep on anything other than the most plush of public transports, so a rested my eyes and kicked back to 7 hours of shuffled music, calmed by 'Tribe and confused by Radiohead. We were all suffering from exhaustion once we arrived in Siem Reap, having sweated out any hint of a hangover. We had been ushered from one guesthouse to the next thanks to our close acquaintance with the manager of Okay guesthouse who'd recommended Okay villas for our next stop. For this, we are hugely grateful. We expected nothing more than we'd had in Phnom Penh - a bed, a fan, $8 rooms with a relaxed and friendly vibe from all customers and staff downstairs.
"Is this the place?" Rory asked with a kind of astounded suspicion as we exited our private tuk-tuk and stood, jaws-on-the-floor, looking at the beautiful colonial architecture in front of us. We walked barefoot across the pristine marble floor, past the 42-inch screen in the lobby-restaurant and up to the sturdy mahogany desk. The place is stunning. We're sharing a three single-bedded room with A/C and cable tv for $8 each. On the 6th floor roof is a stunning view of the city's rooftops and a not-too-small pool. We all grabbed a warm shower and reclined on our massive beds, commenting intermittently that we "just couldn't believe that we'd got this room!"
As it was barely 8 in the evening, we chose to drag ourselves off of the beds and lurch down to the night-market. We arrived at a busy but quiet place, confronted on all sides by fantastic cloths and infinite tiny Buddhas on sale, a labyrinthine treasure trove of mostly pointless but incredibly tempting gifts. None of us having not eaten for more than 10 hours we settled below a bright yellow sign for Curry Walla and indulged in a fantastic shared platter of samosas, jahlfrezi, butter chicken and garlic naans which was delicious but hit us all heavily, like a proper curry, so it was back to Okay villas to sprawl across the cool white sheets and take in the best sleep we've had yet.
Wednesday
[We're Croccing]
Cam, Arun, Rory and I just lined up to high-five-goodbye Rich from his tuk-tuk as he sped off, our first brother down. We'd come back to Phnom Penh for three more nights, us lot heading north, Rich flying out. At this point we'd reached a place where our team was perfect, the nights out were getting incredible and the chat was consistently hilarious. The rest of the trip is well set up but this chapter is over.
Something like a week before Rory and I had been shooting some pool with a Canadian at a bar in Kampot, drinking those last unnecessary-mandatory beers before bed. The next day we hooked up with our tuk-tuk driver, Pun Luong, who whisked us 40 minutes out of the city to go and explore the local caves. We approached some sheer, grey limestone caves and were led around by a dozen or so kids, between 7 and 10 years old, who named Rory "Handsome Man", me "Spiderman", Cam "Special Man", Arun "King Kong", and Rich "Mr. Rich". After seeing a 1300 year-old shrine they pointed out a deep hole in the rocks that became pitch black. Two of the kids sprang through, Rory and I followed tentatively and we clambered our way through a cold, dark bat cave, back out to the light.
When we got back we played some basketball in the courtyard of our hotel. Even though the sun was setting we all sweated buckets and earned ourselves a good meal out that night of barbequed ribs, playing more cards, me accruing more baht-debt, everyone having a laugh. We'd been told of an even more sleepy town that Kampot and so, needing a couple more days relaxation after the hectic week before, we hopped on a bus the next day bound for Kep, an old French seaside resort with the best crab in Cambodia. Much of the town was wrecked by the Khmer Rouge and as we took a long walk up the road in the sweltering midday heat we passed strange shells of old colonial architecture in the foothills, now adorned with brand new, expensive villas and resorts. We happened upon a place that let us share some tents that were set up at the back of an incredible resort. The French owner, Jan, said we could have them cheap and enjoy the luxurious swimming pool and the sunset from the stilted restaurant. By night in Kep we ate like kings at the crab market, the crabs pulled straight out of the sea in baskets and served with Kampot pepper sauce. Rory and I again made sure the bar down the road stayed propped up and spent a few hours drinking tequilla on ice, chatting with the nightwatchman Oeung about mango trees. By day in Kep we sat reading and joking at the pool, sweating out our sins from the party times. We visited the crab market on the second day and watched the locals serving up fresh fish in the market, business slowly but constantly ticking from dawn until dusk.
And so it was back to Phnom Penh. We knew this town now. We knew that the nights would be heavy and the days short and blurry. But we didn't know it'd be quite as good as it has been. We checked in to Okay Guesthouse which has by far the best traveller vibe that any of us have found yet. The staff high-five us each time we walk in and the head-lady, Mum, appropriately treats all the boys like her sons. They know that in the day when we wake up we're still drunk, so they lay on a fantastic English breakfast and serve the coke ice cold. Our first night in the city was the same as last time, but started in a go-go bar called Bar Bados. As we entered it became apparent that we were the only guys in this little place, but it was already packed with pretty Cambodian girls who threw themselves all over each of us. We weren't buying, but they were happy to play pool and jenga with us so long as we drank. Drink we did.
We'd agreed that the next morning we'd all get up and ask Mum to put on the Hangover on in Okay's restaurant while we ate breakfast. It was entirely appropriate and put us all in good spirits for the next day/night. We managed to haul ourselves down to the Russian market across town, the cheapest place to buy anything you can imagine. Each of us went wandering and found our own treasures. We bartered our way to cheap shorts, gifts, pipes and cigarettes. I walked past the cloth market, with little old ladies surrounded by rainbows of coloured fabric, past the food market and the knock-off DVDs. Each little area had it's own sound, and i suddenly found myself surrounded by bike parts right at the back-corner of the place, a little radio rattling off the tin and wing-mirrors and nuts and bolts, like some bikes had been taken and stripped down to their barest insides for resale.
When we got back to the guesthouse the manager, Map, told us he was going drinking with us. He rounded up his tuk-tuk drivers and took us all down to a Cambodian music bar on the riverfront where we all sat and roared with laughter as the waiters constantly plied our little glasses with beer. Each refill caused a shout of "bottoms up!" from the tuk-tuk drivers. As the shrill Cambodian singer got louder and louder Arun shouted "I love this song!" and we all started clapping along. We ate fish and rice, getting more and more raucous over the next couple of hours, partying like the Cambodians do. Then it was time for Rich's last night out, a haze of a bar crawl, each place greeting us with a rush of girls and beer, us five laughing and slapping each other on the back, making the most of the best night out imaginable.
Something like a week before Rory and I had been shooting some pool with a Canadian at a bar in Kampot, drinking those last unnecessary-mandatory beers before bed. The next day we hooked up with our tuk-tuk driver, Pun Luong, who whisked us 40 minutes out of the city to go and explore the local caves. We approached some sheer, grey limestone caves and were led around by a dozen or so kids, between 7 and 10 years old, who named Rory "Handsome Man", me "Spiderman", Cam "Special Man", Arun "King Kong", and Rich "Mr. Rich". After seeing a 1300 year-old shrine they pointed out a deep hole in the rocks that became pitch black. Two of the kids sprang through, Rory and I followed tentatively and we clambered our way through a cold, dark bat cave, back out to the light.
When we got back we played some basketball in the courtyard of our hotel. Even though the sun was setting we all sweated buckets and earned ourselves a good meal out that night of barbequed ribs, playing more cards, me accruing more baht-debt, everyone having a laugh. We'd been told of an even more sleepy town that Kampot and so, needing a couple more days relaxation after the hectic week before, we hopped on a bus the next day bound for Kep, an old French seaside resort with the best crab in Cambodia. Much of the town was wrecked by the Khmer Rouge and as we took a long walk up the road in the sweltering midday heat we passed strange shells of old colonial architecture in the foothills, now adorned with brand new, expensive villas and resorts. We happened upon a place that let us share some tents that were set up at the back of an incredible resort. The French owner, Jan, said we could have them cheap and enjoy the luxurious swimming pool and the sunset from the stilted restaurant. By night in Kep we ate like kings at the crab market, the crabs pulled straight out of the sea in baskets and served with Kampot pepper sauce. Rory and I again made sure the bar down the road stayed propped up and spent a few hours drinking tequilla on ice, chatting with the nightwatchman Oeung about mango trees. By day in Kep we sat reading and joking at the pool, sweating out our sins from the party times. We visited the crab market on the second day and watched the locals serving up fresh fish in the market, business slowly but constantly ticking from dawn until dusk.
And so it was back to Phnom Penh. We knew this town now. We knew that the nights would be heavy and the days short and blurry. But we didn't know it'd be quite as good as it has been. We checked in to Okay Guesthouse which has by far the best traveller vibe that any of us have found yet. The staff high-five us each time we walk in and the head-lady, Mum, appropriately treats all the boys like her sons. They know that in the day when we wake up we're still drunk, so they lay on a fantastic English breakfast and serve the coke ice cold. Our first night in the city was the same as last time, but started in a go-go bar called Bar Bados. As we entered it became apparent that we were the only guys in this little place, but it was already packed with pretty Cambodian girls who threw themselves all over each of us. We weren't buying, but they were happy to play pool and jenga with us so long as we drank. Drink we did.
We'd agreed that the next morning we'd all get up and ask Mum to put on the Hangover on in Okay's restaurant while we ate breakfast. It was entirely appropriate and put us all in good spirits for the next day/night. We managed to haul ourselves down to the Russian market across town, the cheapest place to buy anything you can imagine. Each of us went wandering and found our own treasures. We bartered our way to cheap shorts, gifts, pipes and cigarettes. I walked past the cloth market, with little old ladies surrounded by rainbows of coloured fabric, past the food market and the knock-off DVDs. Each little area had it's own sound, and i suddenly found myself surrounded by bike parts right at the back-corner of the place, a little radio rattling off the tin and wing-mirrors and nuts and bolts, like some bikes had been taken and stripped down to their barest insides for resale.
When we got back to the guesthouse the manager, Map, told us he was going drinking with us. He rounded up his tuk-tuk drivers and took us all down to a Cambodian music bar on the riverfront where we all sat and roared with laughter as the waiters constantly plied our little glasses with beer. Each refill caused a shout of "bottoms up!" from the tuk-tuk drivers. As the shrill Cambodian singer got louder and louder Arun shouted "I love this song!" and we all started clapping along. We ate fish and rice, getting more and more raucous over the next couple of hours, partying like the Cambodians do. Then it was time for Rich's last night out, a haze of a bar crawl, each place greeting us with a rush of girls and beer, us five laughing and slapping each other on the back, making the most of the best night out imaginable.
Friday
[Big Inflatable Iceberg on the Beach]
So there i was, sat in the hotel lobby in Phnom Penh, trying to eek out all that i'd felt in the past five or six or seven days for the blog. Keyboard completely inadequate, the boys waiting, hungry, over my shoulder to go out to dinner. A new little place on the busy riverfront.
The thing was, i was spooked. The killing fields had gotten to me. A massive proportion of Cambodians may still have post-traumatic stress, it had said. I suddenly felt like i was really in a country that was unlike my own. Thailand had been beautiful, but we'd almost managed to avoid Thai culture. Thais have ruled that land for thousands of years, unlike their neighbors who've all been done over by French and English and US machines. The first culture to invade Thailand is the tourism industry and is it rife. We'd been a part of that but now we were traveling into the midst of a country and a culture that we didn't own any slice of. Visitors.
Dinner was excellent, like most of them have been. We ate lavishly and then took ourselves and our deck of cards to a sports bar. A warm up for another big night. At around midnight, watching the end of Arsenal's draw with Orient, i declared myself out. I was spaced and quiet and bed seemed like a good idea. The next morning we were headed on a bus for Sihanokville. Some time on the beach to escape the dusty, hassling city vibe. The boys all struggled out and we lunged on to the bus. At the interchange i bumped in to a disabled monk and bought some beads from him. I felt good about this, having not been done by any of the thousand or so others who's attempted to get some cash from us all. The bus got busier and busier until we were all packed in like sardines, something that we've discovered is standard round here, along with tortuous waits at blazing hot passenger exchanges.
The rooms we found in Sihanokville were acceptable and dirt cheap, whilst the staff varied in the attitude towards depending on the time of day, the amount of alcohol we were buying and our own ability to smile whilst hungover. Sihanokville, you see, is not necessarily a place to recline on a beach. It can be done, so we heard, about 4km round the coast but we were right in the middle of the action. Three nights of intense, brilliant partying left us all drained. Once again the main beach is adorned with a row of bars and everyone ends up at JJ's where the music bumps on until five or six. The vibe was good though, very little bravado or pretense and plenty of strangers to exchange full-names with for future Facebook reference. The three days here are a blur of card games, late nights, beach hangovers, and "Yes, Steven, one more tequilla!" IF British tourism has not yet invaded Cambodia fully, it's found itself a little corner in the south to hang out and party. Again, after having had enough, we all lumbered on to a full-up bus headed this time for a supposedly sleepy town called Kampot. After 90 minutes waiting for passengers and a 90 minute drive, we arrived.
Upon leaving the bus and slouching in to the nearest restaurant chairs available, we all commented on the lack of noise around. We'd done it; escaped the hordes and the sharks, found a real Cambodian town. We hired bicycles and toured the entire place in a couple of hours, the begging and the constant hassle from tuk-tuk drivers replaced by a couple of kids shouting "hello!"as we rode past. We reached the traditional market and hunted underneath the rainbow patchwork roof of assorted cloth for some shorts and trinkets. Nobody tried to sell to us, we just chatted to locals and bought dirt-cheap, brand-name shorts. The fish-market stunk and it really hotted up in the veg market. Life of this town just buzzing on; part of the day-to-day here.
Dinner was again excellent. We cycled out after showers and happened upon a place that let us play cards whilst looking out across the tranquil river at night and feasting. "We could live here," i said to Rory. "Easily mate."
The thing was, i was spooked. The killing fields had gotten to me. A massive proportion of Cambodians may still have post-traumatic stress, it had said. I suddenly felt like i was really in a country that was unlike my own. Thailand had been beautiful, but we'd almost managed to avoid Thai culture. Thais have ruled that land for thousands of years, unlike their neighbors who've all been done over by French and English and US machines. The first culture to invade Thailand is the tourism industry and is it rife. We'd been a part of that but now we were traveling into the midst of a country and a culture that we didn't own any slice of. Visitors.
Dinner was excellent, like most of them have been. We ate lavishly and then took ourselves and our deck of cards to a sports bar. A warm up for another big night. At around midnight, watching the end of Arsenal's draw with Orient, i declared myself out. I was spaced and quiet and bed seemed like a good idea. The next morning we were headed on a bus for Sihanokville. Some time on the beach to escape the dusty, hassling city vibe. The boys all struggled out and we lunged on to the bus. At the interchange i bumped in to a disabled monk and bought some beads from him. I felt good about this, having not been done by any of the thousand or so others who's attempted to get some cash from us all. The bus got busier and busier until we were all packed in like sardines, something that we've discovered is standard round here, along with tortuous waits at blazing hot passenger exchanges.
The rooms we found in Sihanokville were acceptable and dirt cheap, whilst the staff varied in the attitude towards depending on the time of day, the amount of alcohol we were buying and our own ability to smile whilst hungover. Sihanokville, you see, is not necessarily a place to recline on a beach. It can be done, so we heard, about 4km round the coast but we were right in the middle of the action. Three nights of intense, brilliant partying left us all drained. Once again the main beach is adorned with a row of bars and everyone ends up at JJ's where the music bumps on until five or six. The vibe was good though, very little bravado or pretense and plenty of strangers to exchange full-names with for future Facebook reference. The three days here are a blur of card games, late nights, beach hangovers, and "Yes, Steven, one more tequilla!" IF British tourism has not yet invaded Cambodia fully, it's found itself a little corner in the south to hang out and party. Again, after having had enough, we all lumbered on to a full-up bus headed this time for a supposedly sleepy town called Kampot. After 90 minutes waiting for passengers and a 90 minute drive, we arrived.
Upon leaving the bus and slouching in to the nearest restaurant chairs available, we all commented on the lack of noise around. We'd done it; escaped the hordes and the sharks, found a real Cambodian town. We hired bicycles and toured the entire place in a couple of hours, the begging and the constant hassle from tuk-tuk drivers replaced by a couple of kids shouting "hello!"as we rode past. We reached the traditional market and hunted underneath the rainbow patchwork roof of assorted cloth for some shorts and trinkets. Nobody tried to sell to us, we just chatted to locals and bought dirt-cheap, brand-name shorts. The fish-market stunk and it really hotted up in the veg market. Life of this town just buzzing on; part of the day-to-day here.
Dinner was again excellent. We cycled out after showers and happened upon a place that let us play cards whilst looking out across the tranquil river at night and feasting. "We could live here," i said to Rory. "Easily mate."
Sunday
[Sting-O]
Once Rory, Rich, Cam, Helen and Monica had checked in to a room, Arun and I brought everyone back to our place to join us for our first dip in our pool. We laughed at the "Ahhhh!" sound each person made when first getting in and as we each ordered a large whiskey from the pool bar we were joined by Lani and her friends. The lot of us hung out until sunset and Arun and I could not resist booking a couple more nights in the aptly named Tropical Gardens.
After quick showers we all headed out towards Reggae Bar, a place that sells cheap buckets early, allowing some of our crowd to make their bucket debuts. The main attraction here is a proper looking muay-thai boxing ring where drunk customers can sign up for a bout of three rounds against each other inbetween exhibitions put on by the regular fighters there. We just about resisted the urge that would become more tempting throughout the night. "It's only 90 seconds!" i repeated to Rory throughout the night, but seeing formerly confident, now battered and brusied men stumble over to the bar to claim their free drink was hardly inspiring. Once we'd reached the beach party, catching up with Naomi and Sarah, we danced and drank our way through to the early hours.
It wasn't long before we were all up though; we endevoured to reach the already scorching but now somewhat tainted beach by 10 a.m. By midday, it'd risen to the mid 30's and none of us could stand the blaze of the sun without sitting in the shallows for more than 30 minutes. Eventually, having fulfilled the role of mad-dogs and Englishmen, we all went back to our pool again and whilst Rich and Cam napped on sun-loungers, Rory, Arun and I played a few rounds of cards; shit-head was the name of the game, and would remain so for the next few days as competition heated up between us and we, the lads, spent more time together. After such a relaxing day we decided not to brave the tourist-fuelled hustle and bustle of Ko Phi-Phi's main trappings and chose instead to eat beach side, looking out at the docked boats as we ate barbequed fish and played more cards. Spirits were high enough after this for us all to venture beack to the beach where the rave had hotted up, Arun and I rejoicing in the drum'n'bass/dubstep set played at the far end.
The group is good at motivating each other. So much so that after another short but deep sleep, we headed out early in order to catch the boat tour around the island which turned out to be the perfect hangover cure. We were joined by a jovial Irishman called Johnjo who stuck around for the rest of the day. Our first stop was at Monkey Island. We pulled up about 200 metres from shore and, after pushing our hungover selves through a gruelling swin over sharp coral, we emerged to find a small group of monkeys tentatively playing with Coke cans and ice-cream cones from the tourists. Then, out of nowhere, the big, red-eyed leader of the pack came bounding out of the jungle, inspiring the whole group to start rushing and yelling and everyone on the beach. Evolution seemingly got flipped upside down and we all scampered back out to sea, snorkelling hurriedly back to the boat. The moment of fear was replaced by laughter as Lucky, one of the tour guides, failed to believe Arun when he said he was English.
We sailed smoothly around Phi-Phi for another hour until we reach Bamboo island where we found a small hut offering simple but satisfying home-cooked food. We ate gratefully, but were less thankful on the swim back to the boat. The mood on board was picking up as everyone got involved, jumping 8-metres down off the top deck and starting a bombing competition, even Monica eventually braved the jump. The tour guides threw bread in to the water near her, making hundreds of fish appear from the depths to snack and creating a whirl of colour in the water. Finally, we were led around to the north where the sun set between two huge cliffs. We watched lazily, joined by a dozen other boats, as the sky shone blue, purple and orange and all remnants of the night before drifted off in to the haze.
Johnjo suggested that everyone from the tour go out to dinner that night, so our gang met up with the rest and taught everyone shit-head, which we played after a dinner of more barbequed fish and then moved over to the funky, neon Banana Bar. Conversation was flowing faster than the drinks, both at an impressive rate and neither done without a smile. It was decided that the forfeit for losing shit-head was to wear one of Monica's bikini tops until the next loser, a fate that Arun, I, Rory and Cam all had to endure. Each of us soaked up peoples' strange looks and questions with as much dignity as was available.
Phi-Phi, we decided, had peaked, and the next morning we again got up early to catch a boat - this time aiming for Krabi, en route to the highly rated Khao Sok National Park. Rory, Rich, Arun, Monica, Cam and I drifted away from the island with adventure in mind. The journey went smoothly, via boat, then bus, then exclusive mini-bus right to the front door of Jungle Huts, some impressive yet cheap rooms situated right in the middle of Khao Sok's 160 million year old rainforest. We were immediately offered the chance to go elephant trekking, and snatched at the opportunity; our new guide, Em, a young-looking dude with a penchant for boyish humour, sped us through the winding mountains across the park and into a little clearing in the forest where the elephants stayed. Arun and I jumped on, taking turns at sitting on the head of our lively elephant. The trudge through the lush green forest was beautiful, the sun now at an angle darting through the leaves and shimmering off the waterfall we reached. Arun and I talked about how strange it is for humans to take control of animals, and having chatted to Lani a few days before about the way the elephants are treated out here, i had a little pang of guilt about sitting on top of the beast but this, i have to admit, was totally eclipsed by the moment.
We got back and booked ourselves on to a two-day trek and stop-over in the forest, such was the awesomeness of the place. Our island exploits caught up with us that night though and we all headed to bed early.
The next morning we all met and ate ourselves a huge breakfast, preparing for the mission ahead. Em again piled us in to his pick-up truck, minus Monica who had to fly home the next day leaving just the lads, and we darted round to the pier of the lake on which we'd spend the next two days. Khao Sok covers an immense area with a deep freshwater lake at its centre, tributaries of which split off for miles. On the lake are a few sparsely scattered floating fishing villages of no more than 20 huts each. Em introduced us to our driver, also called Em, as we took a 2 hour long-tail boat ride out to our remote accomodation, once again in blistering heat which was only ever bearable because of the rush of wind from the boat ride. We eventually pulled up next to some simple- but sturdy-looking bamboo huts with only a kitchen attached and two more long-tails moored to its side. We immediately jumped into the lake, Rory besting us all with a spectacular front-flip straight in to the perfectly cool, blue water.
From here time slowed a little. We decided that this was one of our more authentic Thai experiences in that, when travelling around, one watches the Thais sat listlessly passing time and wondering exactly how it's done, but now it was our time we had to pass and we all enjoyed the change of pace. We ate, we played cards, we fished, we sped around on Em & Em's boat on some little excursions. On the banks, we saw various wild animals scarper back into the dense woodland upon hearing the roaring sound of our boat's properller. Byson, boar, deer and lizards all took a look at us before making tracks. Later that night, after some fantastic food, we were treated to a little night safari on the boat, the highlight of which we catching a glimpse of a huge stag by the light of Em's torch.
We sat up in the floating kitchen playing cards and drinking whiskey and feeling very Apocalypse Now. The air cooled to a comfortable temparature as Rory and I sat up later than anyone for miles casting the bait-less fishing rod in to the water, half-hoping for a bite, half chatting.
The next morning Em led us by foot into the forest and we trekked for a couple of hours, again trying to catch some fish but not succeeding. The density of the trees became apparent, as well as the length of the lake, as we walked for a couple of hours in crisp morning heat before jumping back on our long-tail and heading back towards the pier. The best two days out here, but completely unrelatable to much of the rest of the trip, our time spent in Khao Sok will never be forgotten, as much for the fun we made ourselves as for the stunning surroundings.
After reaching the pier, Em gave us a lift to the bus-stop. We all needed to get to Bangkok to catch a flight to Phnom Penh, Cambodia, the next day, and we'd opted for a public bus and then sleeper-train to get us there. As we arrived at the bus-stop along the side of a dusty street, the bus pulled up and had us at the station within 2 hours. We picked up some supplies of crisps, whiskey, tobacco and crisps whilst waiting for a train and whilst wandering the town i was confronted by a small Thai student whose name i forget, asking me to read him a paragraph in English from a newspaper; he wanted to record my voice and use it for practise for his teaching degree. I agreed, explaining that my accent might not serve him particularly well, but he gratefully offered me a red-bull and a banana-leaf cigarette in exchange for my voice. The paragraph detailed a ceasefire between Thailand and Cambodia after a small fight on their mutual border, which i told the lads must bode well for our trip the next day.
The sleeper train was a fantastic experience. We occupied half of the buffet cart until 10 p.m., playing more games of cards, this time chase-the-ace, laughing and joking over the booming sound of the carriage on the rails outside the open windows. I slept so well in my bunk that for the first time i managed to properly lucid dream: i realised i had control of myself in my dream and started hovering a few feet off the ground in front of a silent crowd, before i twitched awake.
We arrived on Khao San road having taken a tuk-tuk from the station. I managed to re-purchase my stolen Gorillaz t-shirt and we wasted time watching Arsenal beat Barcelona on a repeated game. Everyone indulged in mango shakes and breakfasts, before withdrawing our US Dollars for Cambodia and heading to the airport. Our flight lasted barely an hour, with the seatbelt sign switched off for a matter of minutes and hardly time for any of us to sleep. Touching down inPhnom Penh, we all sensed that we'd reached a very different place; the air was thick, the buildings lower and the streets more hectic. Arun and I reflected that it reminded us of Delhi, and impression that has become stronger over the last two days. The cars and motorbikes ignore all lane rules and pull impossible manouveres with grace and ease. Crossing the road was for each of us an experience in itself.
We headed towards Rory's Pub, a guesthouse along the river which hosts most of Phnom Penh's tourist stop-offs. We headed out towards some of Phnom Penh's less infamous bars, eventually landing on a trendy club called Heart of Darkness which sees Cambodians, Brits and other of all description party late in to the night. With beers at $1 we managed not to spend too much money but had a really good night out.
Despite our hangovers, we had to drag ourselves out of Rory's due to a lack of rooms. After another huge breakfast, we were all inspired to make the most of our day. I suggested that we couldn't leave without visiting the killing fields site. Everyone agreed except Rory, who correctly opted out having done the experience once before, whilst Arun, Cam, Rich and I discovered for ourselves why it might be the kind of thing to only do once. We hired a tuk-tuk which drove us steadily away from the city centre of Phnom Penh, where guesthouses and pubs meet tiny rickety shops with tin stalls out front, broken only by the occassional huge, glass-fronted Toyota dealership or "Official Apple Retailer." On reaching the edge of town, the roads became dustier and the shops less clean, and we were led towards the site of the killing fields.
Immediately, what is striking is how small the area is. Thousands of people lost their lives here, yet the entire site can be taken in one photo. A tall, unspectacular moument stands in the middle of the site, with 17 layers of skulls stacked 30 metres into the air. We then whicked across town to the prison , which detailed further the atrocities committed by the Khmer Rouge between 1975 and 1979. Known as S-21, it was easy to see how Pol-Pot had ordered the conversion of a modern school building in to an oppressive prison with no space and barbed wire covering the windows the prevent prisoners jumping. I headed down the coridor and accidentally found myself at a locked gate. The familiar pang of fear shot through me as i felt like i was somewhere i shouldn't be, and as that happened i turned a corner to see hundreds of pictures of prisoners, from child to elderly, staring right at me. The fear disappated as i looked at their faces, some scared, some blank, some even smiling. Not knowing their fate.
After quick showers we all headed out towards Reggae Bar, a place that sells cheap buckets early, allowing some of our crowd to make their bucket debuts. The main attraction here is a proper looking muay-thai boxing ring where drunk customers can sign up for a bout of three rounds against each other inbetween exhibitions put on by the regular fighters there. We just about resisted the urge that would become more tempting throughout the night. "It's only 90 seconds!" i repeated to Rory throughout the night, but seeing formerly confident, now battered and brusied men stumble over to the bar to claim their free drink was hardly inspiring. Once we'd reached the beach party, catching up with Naomi and Sarah, we danced and drank our way through to the early hours.
It wasn't long before we were all up though; we endevoured to reach the already scorching but now somewhat tainted beach by 10 a.m. By midday, it'd risen to the mid 30's and none of us could stand the blaze of the sun without sitting in the shallows for more than 30 minutes. Eventually, having fulfilled the role of mad-dogs and Englishmen, we all went back to our pool again and whilst Rich and Cam napped on sun-loungers, Rory, Arun and I played a few rounds of cards; shit-head was the name of the game, and would remain so for the next few days as competition heated up between us and we, the lads, spent more time together. After such a relaxing day we decided not to brave the tourist-fuelled hustle and bustle of Ko Phi-Phi's main trappings and chose instead to eat beach side, looking out at the docked boats as we ate barbequed fish and played more cards. Spirits were high enough after this for us all to venture beack to the beach where the rave had hotted up, Arun and I rejoicing in the drum'n'bass/dubstep set played at the far end.
The group is good at motivating each other. So much so that after another short but deep sleep, we headed out early in order to catch the boat tour around the island which turned out to be the perfect hangover cure. We were joined by a jovial Irishman called Johnjo who stuck around for the rest of the day. Our first stop was at Monkey Island. We pulled up about 200 metres from shore and, after pushing our hungover selves through a gruelling swin over sharp coral, we emerged to find a small group of monkeys tentatively playing with Coke cans and ice-cream cones from the tourists. Then, out of nowhere, the big, red-eyed leader of the pack came bounding out of the jungle, inspiring the whole group to start rushing and yelling and everyone on the beach. Evolution seemingly got flipped upside down and we all scampered back out to sea, snorkelling hurriedly back to the boat. The moment of fear was replaced by laughter as Lucky, one of the tour guides, failed to believe Arun when he said he was English.
We sailed smoothly around Phi-Phi for another hour until we reach Bamboo island where we found a small hut offering simple but satisfying home-cooked food. We ate gratefully, but were less thankful on the swim back to the boat. The mood on board was picking up as everyone got involved, jumping 8-metres down off the top deck and starting a bombing competition, even Monica eventually braved the jump. The tour guides threw bread in to the water near her, making hundreds of fish appear from the depths to snack and creating a whirl of colour in the water. Finally, we were led around to the north where the sun set between two huge cliffs. We watched lazily, joined by a dozen other boats, as the sky shone blue, purple and orange and all remnants of the night before drifted off in to the haze.
Johnjo suggested that everyone from the tour go out to dinner that night, so our gang met up with the rest and taught everyone shit-head, which we played after a dinner of more barbequed fish and then moved over to the funky, neon Banana Bar. Conversation was flowing faster than the drinks, both at an impressive rate and neither done without a smile. It was decided that the forfeit for losing shit-head was to wear one of Monica's bikini tops until the next loser, a fate that Arun, I, Rory and Cam all had to endure. Each of us soaked up peoples' strange looks and questions with as much dignity as was available.
Phi-Phi, we decided, had peaked, and the next morning we again got up early to catch a boat - this time aiming for Krabi, en route to the highly rated Khao Sok National Park. Rory, Rich, Arun, Monica, Cam and I drifted away from the island with adventure in mind. The journey went smoothly, via boat, then bus, then exclusive mini-bus right to the front door of Jungle Huts, some impressive yet cheap rooms situated right in the middle of Khao Sok's 160 million year old rainforest. We were immediately offered the chance to go elephant trekking, and snatched at the opportunity; our new guide, Em, a young-looking dude with a penchant for boyish humour, sped us through the winding mountains across the park and into a little clearing in the forest where the elephants stayed. Arun and I jumped on, taking turns at sitting on the head of our lively elephant. The trudge through the lush green forest was beautiful, the sun now at an angle darting through the leaves and shimmering off the waterfall we reached. Arun and I talked about how strange it is for humans to take control of animals, and having chatted to Lani a few days before about the way the elephants are treated out here, i had a little pang of guilt about sitting on top of the beast but this, i have to admit, was totally eclipsed by the moment.
We got back and booked ourselves on to a two-day trek and stop-over in the forest, such was the awesomeness of the place. Our island exploits caught up with us that night though and we all headed to bed early.
The next morning we all met and ate ourselves a huge breakfast, preparing for the mission ahead. Em again piled us in to his pick-up truck, minus Monica who had to fly home the next day leaving just the lads, and we darted round to the pier of the lake on which we'd spend the next two days. Khao Sok covers an immense area with a deep freshwater lake at its centre, tributaries of which split off for miles. On the lake are a few sparsely scattered floating fishing villages of no more than 20 huts each. Em introduced us to our driver, also called Em, as we took a 2 hour long-tail boat ride out to our remote accomodation, once again in blistering heat which was only ever bearable because of the rush of wind from the boat ride. We eventually pulled up next to some simple- but sturdy-looking bamboo huts with only a kitchen attached and two more long-tails moored to its side. We immediately jumped into the lake, Rory besting us all with a spectacular front-flip straight in to the perfectly cool, blue water.
From here time slowed a little. We decided that this was one of our more authentic Thai experiences in that, when travelling around, one watches the Thais sat listlessly passing time and wondering exactly how it's done, but now it was our time we had to pass and we all enjoyed the change of pace. We ate, we played cards, we fished, we sped around on Em & Em's boat on some little excursions. On the banks, we saw various wild animals scarper back into the dense woodland upon hearing the roaring sound of our boat's properller. Byson, boar, deer and lizards all took a look at us before making tracks. Later that night, after some fantastic food, we were treated to a little night safari on the boat, the highlight of which we catching a glimpse of a huge stag by the light of Em's torch.
We sat up in the floating kitchen playing cards and drinking whiskey and feeling very Apocalypse Now. The air cooled to a comfortable temparature as Rory and I sat up later than anyone for miles casting the bait-less fishing rod in to the water, half-hoping for a bite, half chatting.
The next morning Em led us by foot into the forest and we trekked for a couple of hours, again trying to catch some fish but not succeeding. The density of the trees became apparent, as well as the length of the lake, as we walked for a couple of hours in crisp morning heat before jumping back on our long-tail and heading back towards the pier. The best two days out here, but completely unrelatable to much of the rest of the trip, our time spent in Khao Sok will never be forgotten, as much for the fun we made ourselves as for the stunning surroundings.
After reaching the pier, Em gave us a lift to the bus-stop. We all needed to get to Bangkok to catch a flight to Phnom Penh, Cambodia, the next day, and we'd opted for a public bus and then sleeper-train to get us there. As we arrived at the bus-stop along the side of a dusty street, the bus pulled up and had us at the station within 2 hours. We picked up some supplies of crisps, whiskey, tobacco and crisps whilst waiting for a train and whilst wandering the town i was confronted by a small Thai student whose name i forget, asking me to read him a paragraph in English from a newspaper; he wanted to record my voice and use it for practise for his teaching degree. I agreed, explaining that my accent might not serve him particularly well, but he gratefully offered me a red-bull and a banana-leaf cigarette in exchange for my voice. The paragraph detailed a ceasefire between Thailand and Cambodia after a small fight on their mutual border, which i told the lads must bode well for our trip the next day.
The sleeper train was a fantastic experience. We occupied half of the buffet cart until 10 p.m., playing more games of cards, this time chase-the-ace, laughing and joking over the booming sound of the carriage on the rails outside the open windows. I slept so well in my bunk that for the first time i managed to properly lucid dream: i realised i had control of myself in my dream and started hovering a few feet off the ground in front of a silent crowd, before i twitched awake.
We arrived on Khao San road having taken a tuk-tuk from the station. I managed to re-purchase my stolen Gorillaz t-shirt and we wasted time watching Arsenal beat Barcelona on a repeated game. Everyone indulged in mango shakes and breakfasts, before withdrawing our US Dollars for Cambodia and heading to the airport. Our flight lasted barely an hour, with the seatbelt sign switched off for a matter of minutes and hardly time for any of us to sleep. Touching down inPhnom Penh, we all sensed that we'd reached a very different place; the air was thick, the buildings lower and the streets more hectic. Arun and I reflected that it reminded us of Delhi, and impression that has become stronger over the last two days. The cars and motorbikes ignore all lane rules and pull impossible manouveres with grace and ease. Crossing the road was for each of us an experience in itself.
We headed towards Rory's Pub, a guesthouse along the river which hosts most of Phnom Penh's tourist stop-offs. We headed out towards some of Phnom Penh's less infamous bars, eventually landing on a trendy club called Heart of Darkness which sees Cambodians, Brits and other of all description party late in to the night. With beers at $1 we managed not to spend too much money but had a really good night out.
Despite our hangovers, we had to drag ourselves out of Rory's due to a lack of rooms. After another huge breakfast, we were all inspired to make the most of our day. I suggested that we couldn't leave without visiting the killing fields site. Everyone agreed except Rory, who correctly opted out having done the experience once before, whilst Arun, Cam, Rich and I discovered for ourselves why it might be the kind of thing to only do once. We hired a tuk-tuk which drove us steadily away from the city centre of Phnom Penh, where guesthouses and pubs meet tiny rickety shops with tin stalls out front, broken only by the occassional huge, glass-fronted Toyota dealership or "Official Apple Retailer." On reaching the edge of town, the roads became dustier and the shops less clean, and we were led towards the site of the killing fields.
Immediately, what is striking is how small the area is. Thousands of people lost their lives here, yet the entire site can be taken in one photo. A tall, unspectacular moument stands in the middle of the site, with 17 layers of skulls stacked 30 metres into the air. We then whicked across town to the prison , which detailed further the atrocities committed by the Khmer Rouge between 1975 and 1979. Known as S-21, it was easy to see how Pol-Pot had ordered the conversion of a modern school building in to an oppressive prison with no space and barbed wire covering the windows the prevent prisoners jumping. I headed down the coridor and accidentally found myself at a locked gate. The familiar pang of fear shot through me as i felt like i was somewhere i shouldn't be, and as that happened i turned a corner to see hundreds of pictures of prisoners, from child to elderly, staring right at me. The fear disappated as i looked at their faces, some scared, some blank, some even smiling. Not knowing their fate.
Monday
[Goal of the season]
Amy and Sarah had left Ko Pha-Ngang on Februry 8th, leaving Arun and I to spend the day to ourselves. Feeling settled at Boom's, we decided to experience this place properly for one last time, chatting all day with Nok, who teased Arun and properly introduced us to her dogs and puppies. As we ate lunch, the pups played around our feet, perhaps becoming more familiar with us and making us feel all the more a part of their family. Nok told us about the time she had spent living in Germany and learning English; she now finds some Thai customs strange, but she admitted that she still saw many European customs as silly. After a walk to town through the scorching heat which made my muscles ache thanks to the previous days' kayaking, we both slumped in to deck chairs on the private beach at Boom's. Arun and I were both reading books by Barack Obama. As the sun disappeared behind the trees and then over the horizon, the fishing boats which Nok said came too close to the beach sailed home, and Arun and I drifted in to conversation about family, home, and our ambitions. Hanging out together has been as good as ever.
We were up early the next day to begin our journey to Krabi, which was supposed to be over by 5.30 p.m. but actually ended closer to midnight. Bidding the staff at Boom's Cafe a fond farewell, we saddled up, feeling refreshed after the relaxing day before. We were both relishing one more ride on board the Lomprayah catamaran as a taxi took us down to the pier, and the ride across to the mainland was perfectly smooth so we got ourselves a couple of beers and hit the top deck to catch the breeze. Once we arrived at the port-town of Don Sak, a gang of us who'd bought the same ticket down to Krabi were escorted straight past the mini-bus we'd been promised and herded on to a dubious looking bus. We chatted to a couple of older German guys, jokingly reassuring each other that despite our dodgy transport, we'd all get to Krabi in one piece.
This, at least we were right about, but as the bus began to divert away from the main highways and through seemingly every small town on the way, stopping regularly to pick up monks and schoolchildren, it became apparent to another one of the English people on our journey that we'd been somewhat scammed. We were over two hours late when someone eventually asked the driver where we were (it was dark now, and Thai road signs only get harder to read at night). He gamely agreed to stop and let us all have a smoke outside a petrol station, before explaining that we were about two more hours away. The scam was confirmed when we got dumped in a grimey bus station a further 20 minutes from Krabi.
So, we were mildly scammed, but still in high-spirits thanks to the stunning vistas that greeted us on the way in to our destination, a small market town on the south-west coast of Thailand. Krabi's hostels were pretty fully booked and we were struggling to find any rooms at all. "The next tourist we see, we'll ask," I said to Arun, and almost immediately we bumped in to a couple of American girls, Kate and Erin, who helped us find a modest little place which only charged us 100baht per night each. We booked up, and then followed the girls down to the night-market to grab some food. A genuinely Thai experience, this place hummed quietly with a consistent shift of customers both Thai and tourist wandering between the roughly 50 food stalls, all of which served a huge variety of fresh seafood, kebabs and noodles. At times we sat, at other times we walked until we could salivate no more, at which point we sat and ordered again. Arun, the girls and I had a great laugh, mainly jibing each others' country and language, and we were introduced to the Thai guys called Boom and Tom they'd met that day. Tom insisted that we go and get drinks at his friend's place, "Some Bar," telling us repeatedly that it'd be "fucking cool man!" He didn't disappoint.
The next day Arun and I grabbed some fantastic breakfast with the Americans, and once they departed for the nearby beach we visited "Arun's Restaurant" before booking our boat ticket to Ko Phi-Phi with the main boat man of the area, Ali, a round, smiley guy who spoke an entertaining strand of English. Later, once the Americans returned, we all headed once again to the night market, this time eating even more adventurously and becoming even more astounded at the cheap prices. My note from Nok warning people away from feeding me nuts came in handy. After this, we walked up to an awesome little reggae bar called "Fu Bar" owned by a Thai-rasta called Mr. Wood. Kate, Erin, Tom, Arun and I got some drinks and got stuck in to a hugely competitve game of Jenga which I eventually lost. We were joined by a Swede named Sebastian (who confirmed that Swedes think Julian Assange is innocent, "the only news story i'm following out here," I told Seb) and once again had a great laugh until the wee-hours.
The next day we had to shoot off early again, waving another bunch of international friends off, but not before one more trip to "Arun's Restaurant." The boat we arrived at, whilst looking a little rickety at first, glided so smoothly across to our next island that we both flashed each other a look of surprise upon arrival. Ko Phi-Phi, on the surface, is the most stunning island we've been to yet, with sheer cliffs lined with bright green trees and crystal clear waters full of fish, only disturbed by the huge volume of boat traffic. The reason for all the boats became obvious once we stepped on to the pier - the entire island is devoid of traffic, people only walking, cycling or pushing karts around. As we walked to our accomodation, found after much searching by a nice travel agent called Top, the frantic development going on on the island caught us by surprise. Guest Houses, restaurants and bars of massively varying themes are everywhere, poking out from behind one another around infinite little alleys. The blazing heat was clearly more hot than where we'd been before making the island as busy as it can get, and after walking past dozens of guest houses with "full" signs outside we eventually arrived at Tropical Gardens. Once again we'd found ourselves a secluded little jungle-bungalow not far from the action but far enough to relax at will, this time with a small pool replacing the beach. We'd landed on our feet again, we decided.
We soaked up the atmosphere of the island, deciding that whilst it's completely tourist-dominated, the relaxed vibe that results is completely unique. We continued wandering (with a huge sleep inbetween) for the next two days, visiting little food markets and taking in mango shakes on the beach, before heading out that evening for a big night. We started by watching some football, marvelling as Wayne Rooney scored the goal of the season and seemingly inspired the whole island to cheer simultaneously, each one of the bars eminating cries of "did you see that?!" We moved on, grabbing a bucket each whilst watching Arsenal win, and we then once again went to meet up with Amy and Sarah who'd arrived on Phi-Phi earlier that day. We caught them on the main beach, where four cool bars compete for attention; we chose "Slinky's" for its awesome sound system and danced on a platform until the morning. The night was the best beach party we'd been to since arriving in Thailand and the night was only marred by Amy's losing her purse, fortunately with only hard card inside. I had my new Gorillaz t-shirt pinched, but have been told to stop complaining about this.
Having lost their room key, Amy and Sarah came back to Tropical Gardens with us and valiantly helped me through a bottle of Thai whiskey. Unfortunately, I drew the short straw and was denied a bed, instead perching on a bench on our balcony and drinking, chatting to whoever happened to be awake at the time. I caught up on some sleep that morning once the girls had gone to re-open their room, but woke before i'd had a chance as Rory and his friend Rich called to let us know that they'd be on the island. Before meeting them, i sat down to have some breakfast and chatted to one of our Aussie neighbours from our huts, a young artist called Lani. We decided to hang around for the day so that she could meet everyone.
Arun and I were buzzing as we walked down to the pier to meet Rory and Rich, and after exchanging big hugs and handshakes we were introduced to a bunch of other guys they'd met on their way to the island - Cam from Canada, Helen from Germany via Oz, and Monica from London. The gang of us found them a place to stay, again through Top, our travel agent who grew increasingly friendly as we enlarged his customer base. Outside their room, Lani caught up with us and as we turned to introduce her to everyone, we literally bumped in to Sarah and Naomi, our dubstep friends that we'd met on Ko Tao. Arun and I took a look at each other, finding it impossible not to show our joy at suddenly having a great bunch of people around us from all over the place, and as we all introduced and exchanged smiles and hugs, the sense that we were not just having a good time crept in - that we might, in fact, be having a better time than we could have ever expected.
We were up early the next day to begin our journey to Krabi, which was supposed to be over by 5.30 p.m. but actually ended closer to midnight. Bidding the staff at Boom's Cafe a fond farewell, we saddled up, feeling refreshed after the relaxing day before. We were both relishing one more ride on board the Lomprayah catamaran as a taxi took us down to the pier, and the ride across to the mainland was perfectly smooth so we got ourselves a couple of beers and hit the top deck to catch the breeze. Once we arrived at the port-town of Don Sak, a gang of us who'd bought the same ticket down to Krabi were escorted straight past the mini-bus we'd been promised and herded on to a dubious looking bus. We chatted to a couple of older German guys, jokingly reassuring each other that despite our dodgy transport, we'd all get to Krabi in one piece.
This, at least we were right about, but as the bus began to divert away from the main highways and through seemingly every small town on the way, stopping regularly to pick up monks and schoolchildren, it became apparent to another one of the English people on our journey that we'd been somewhat scammed. We were over two hours late when someone eventually asked the driver where we were (it was dark now, and Thai road signs only get harder to read at night). He gamely agreed to stop and let us all have a smoke outside a petrol station, before explaining that we were about two more hours away. The scam was confirmed when we got dumped in a grimey bus station a further 20 minutes from Krabi.
So, we were mildly scammed, but still in high-spirits thanks to the stunning vistas that greeted us on the way in to our destination, a small market town on the south-west coast of Thailand. Krabi's hostels were pretty fully booked and we were struggling to find any rooms at all. "The next tourist we see, we'll ask," I said to Arun, and almost immediately we bumped in to a couple of American girls, Kate and Erin, who helped us find a modest little place which only charged us 100baht per night each. We booked up, and then followed the girls down to the night-market to grab some food. A genuinely Thai experience, this place hummed quietly with a consistent shift of customers both Thai and tourist wandering between the roughly 50 food stalls, all of which served a huge variety of fresh seafood, kebabs and noodles. At times we sat, at other times we walked until we could salivate no more, at which point we sat and ordered again. Arun, the girls and I had a great laugh, mainly jibing each others' country and language, and we were introduced to the Thai guys called Boom and Tom they'd met that day. Tom insisted that we go and get drinks at his friend's place, "Some Bar," telling us repeatedly that it'd be "fucking cool man!" He didn't disappoint.
The next day Arun and I grabbed some fantastic breakfast with the Americans, and once they departed for the nearby beach we visited "Arun's Restaurant" before booking our boat ticket to Ko Phi-Phi with the main boat man of the area, Ali, a round, smiley guy who spoke an entertaining strand of English. Later, once the Americans returned, we all headed once again to the night market, this time eating even more adventurously and becoming even more astounded at the cheap prices. My note from Nok warning people away from feeding me nuts came in handy. After this, we walked up to an awesome little reggae bar called "Fu Bar" owned by a Thai-rasta called Mr. Wood. Kate, Erin, Tom, Arun and I got some drinks and got stuck in to a hugely competitve game of Jenga which I eventually lost. We were joined by a Swede named Sebastian (who confirmed that Swedes think Julian Assange is innocent, "the only news story i'm following out here," I told Seb) and once again had a great laugh until the wee-hours.
The next day we had to shoot off early again, waving another bunch of international friends off, but not before one more trip to "Arun's Restaurant." The boat we arrived at, whilst looking a little rickety at first, glided so smoothly across to our next island that we both flashed each other a look of surprise upon arrival. Ko Phi-Phi, on the surface, is the most stunning island we've been to yet, with sheer cliffs lined with bright green trees and crystal clear waters full of fish, only disturbed by the huge volume of boat traffic. The reason for all the boats became obvious once we stepped on to the pier - the entire island is devoid of traffic, people only walking, cycling or pushing karts around. As we walked to our accomodation, found after much searching by a nice travel agent called Top, the frantic development going on on the island caught us by surprise. Guest Houses, restaurants and bars of massively varying themes are everywhere, poking out from behind one another around infinite little alleys. The blazing heat was clearly more hot than where we'd been before making the island as busy as it can get, and after walking past dozens of guest houses with "full" signs outside we eventually arrived at Tropical Gardens. Once again we'd found ourselves a secluded little jungle-bungalow not far from the action but far enough to relax at will, this time with a small pool replacing the beach. We'd landed on our feet again, we decided.
We soaked up the atmosphere of the island, deciding that whilst it's completely tourist-dominated, the relaxed vibe that results is completely unique. We continued wandering (with a huge sleep inbetween) for the next two days, visiting little food markets and taking in mango shakes on the beach, before heading out that evening for a big night. We started by watching some football, marvelling as Wayne Rooney scored the goal of the season and seemingly inspired the whole island to cheer simultaneously, each one of the bars eminating cries of "did you see that?!" We moved on, grabbing a bucket each whilst watching Arsenal win, and we then once again went to meet up with Amy and Sarah who'd arrived on Phi-Phi earlier that day. We caught them on the main beach, where four cool bars compete for attention; we chose "Slinky's" for its awesome sound system and danced on a platform until the morning. The night was the best beach party we'd been to since arriving in Thailand and the night was only marred by Amy's losing her purse, fortunately with only hard card inside. I had my new Gorillaz t-shirt pinched, but have been told to stop complaining about this.
Having lost their room key, Amy and Sarah came back to Tropical Gardens with us and valiantly helped me through a bottle of Thai whiskey. Unfortunately, I drew the short straw and was denied a bed, instead perching on a bench on our balcony and drinking, chatting to whoever happened to be awake at the time. I caught up on some sleep that morning once the girls had gone to re-open their room, but woke before i'd had a chance as Rory and his friend Rich called to let us know that they'd be on the island. Before meeting them, i sat down to have some breakfast and chatted to one of our Aussie neighbours from our huts, a young artist called Lani. We decided to hang around for the day so that she could meet everyone.
Arun and I were buzzing as we walked down to the pier to meet Rory and Rich, and after exchanging big hugs and handshakes we were introduced to a bunch of other guys they'd met on their way to the island - Cam from Canada, Helen from Germany via Oz, and Monica from London. The gang of us found them a place to stay, again through Top, our travel agent who grew increasingly friendly as we enlarged his customer base. Outside their room, Lani caught up with us and as we turned to introduce her to everyone, we literally bumped in to Sarah and Naomi, our dubstep friends that we'd met on Ko Tao. Arun and I took a look at each other, finding it impossible not to show our joy at suddenly having a great bunch of people around us from all over the place, and as we all introduced and exchanged smiles and hugs, the sense that we were not just having a good time crept in - that we might, in fact, be having a better time than we could have ever expected.
[May contain reference to (legal) drugs]
We kicked back in paradise for the day, knowing that we had a couple of buckets each ahead of us that night. We had no pre-conceptions about the Black Moon Party, but it seemed like the sensible option as it was the 'moon' party that was on whilst we were in Ko Pha-Ngang.
Hanging out at Boom's Bungalows was a treat in itself. It's a secluded little place set right down in the jungle (but only 3 minutes from the main road) and you get the feeling that some of the residents might have been staying there for years. Nok, the lady who runs the place and mothers the two of us, makes the tourist towns seem a million miles away from a good time by giving you a family atmosphere and good, Thai, home-cooked food. This, it has to be said, is not entirely representative of Ko Pha-Ngang itself, which is something of a party island. And whilst we were more than in the mood for a party, both my wallet and my mind could not stand the thought of raving for 3 months straight. It would be a waste of time.
However, we rocked up at about midnight and were greeted by a 500baht entrance fee. "Once in a lifetime?" i said to Arun, and we coughed up for that, and then a bucket each. As the night went on though, it became apparent that the one stage of techno was not going to change pace. We split up and got chatting to various people.
I woke up alone in our bungalow at about 8 a.m. after two hours' sleep to the sound of knocking at the door. I presumed that i'd see Arun stumble in but on opening the door, one of the dogs from the bungalows wandered in between my legs and bedded down for the night. In my haze I let this go on. It turned out the next day that Arun had sped off to the other side of the island on a solo adventure with some new friends and was too drunk, then too hungover, to face crawling back. I settled in to a recovery day alone; I was more than recovered by the time i'd read a mis-printed version of "The Quiet American," an amazing book about Vietnam in the 50's which i finished that day. Ten hours in a hammock really gets rid of the Red Bull blues.
Arun and I agreed to meet the next day on Had Rin beach, the location of the famous Full Moon Party that, after the disappointment of the Black Moon, we've pretty much settled on returning for in either March or April. It's a stunning, long, golden beach, and we looked out at it from midday til midnight from a bar up in the mountain. Known as "Magic Mountain," this place is infamous in that it tolerates weed and magic mushrooms and these are sold over the bar, so i decided to indulge in both. A bunch of people who were sat around joined us, including Adam the American who was on holiday from Shang-hai with his girlfriend, and we all sat around watching the beautiful sky and the fire-spinners on the beach whilst talking genius insanity for hours. The guys who'd drank more mushroom-shakes than me had a really nice, civilised trip whilst i decided to smoke up and spent the day nicely stoned. It really was the final nail in the coffin for alcohol; it's impossible to see why that's the legal drug back home. We were eventually joined by a couple of Arun's friends from University, Sarah and Amy, who agreed that the bar in the mountain truly is a lovely place.
After both enjoying our first big sleeps, we again caught up with Sarah and Amy and headed up to the part of the island in the north where Arun had found himself a few nights before. It's called Had Yao and it gives a glimpse of the future of these little islands in south-east Thailand with big, fashionable complexes and (relatively) expensive restaurants. It's easy to see why as, once you leave Had Rin and the main tourist part of the island, Ko Pha-Ngang's beauty shines through the grotty huts and half-torn posters of last week's rave. The mountains are dense with trees and from the beach we could still hear the familiar screams of all kinds of birds i don't know. The beach here was pristine and the water like a warm bath. We hired some cheap snorkeling gear and took a dip which was a great way to spend the day but would later be eclipsed by another snorkeling trip. That evening, the four of us sat facing out to sea whilst eating dinner and watching the very best fire-spinner we'd seen yet. He was called Jack and his little brother Charlie also rocked. The last thing we did in Had Yao was to book a trip for the following day to Ang Thong National Marine Park...
Ang Thong
It was an early start for our day-trip out to the marine park, and we were picked up by our lively guide, who called himself "Tiger Woods," at 8 in the morning. The girls jumped in on the way and we were off on a genuine adventure.
I'd been buzzing with excitement the whole night before about this trip because it felt like the first unique experience we were going to have in Thailand so far. Tiger drove a group of us out to the bay, where we hopped on his speedboat and jetted and bounced across the sea towards Ang Thong. The park itself is a collection of rocky mountains that jut out from the sea; they have been specially preserved to the extent that it's almost impossible to stay there for more than a day at a time. We approached at around 10a.m. and were greeted by spectacular, spiky hills, again dense with trees and the sounds of birds calling. We moored on an empty beach and our guide led us towards the beginning of a hill-trek - 500 metres into the jungle top. There were viewing points at each hundred metres upward, and the trek became more and more precarious as we went. Both on the way up and the way down we crossed paths with a small family of black monkeys who took the time to check us out from the canopy, before skipping off in to the jungle. At the summit, we had to climb by hand and foot over some jagged rocks and once we made it and i'd rolled myself a congratulatory cigarette, we stood in awe at the beauty of the park. The sea barely moved and shone back up at us, whilst each island-ette contained a thick dusting of trees on all sides.
Back down, back on the speedboat, and off to the Emerald Lake. Tiger said that if we didn't visit the Emerald Lake whilst we were here, "then no point in coming you fool!" It didn't disappoint. From a viewing point about 100 metres up the land-locked seawater lake glistened blue and green and was evidently untouched. "No-one knows what fish are inside," Tiger said.
After a hearty Thai lunch with rice on yet another empty, perfect beach, Arun and I jumped in a two-man kayak and proceeded to fly around about a quarter of the Marine Park in an hour. Despite neither of us being the fittest, we're no kayak-slouches and the size of the place only really hit home at this point. Exhausted and with the sun beating down, we were grateful to hop back on the boat and zip around the corner to a snorkeling location. Tiger chucked some bread in the water and immediately more fish than I've ever seen in my life jumped out of the water, fighting over the crumbs. We jumped straight in and snorkeled for around an hour, barely lifting our heads out of the water, fascinated to watch dozens of varieties of fish swimming right in front of us above a wonderfully preserved sea bed. After this, Tiger's speedboat bounced us home across rough sea waters.
It seems that for me, the reputations of the two islands we've visited were reversed. Having partied on Ko Tao and not much else (and then gotten ill), i felt down about the trip as a whole and longed for some adventure to complement my Bacardi buckets. On Ko Pha-Ngang, we found it. Tonight we sleep back at jungle-seclusion of Boom's Bungalows, tomorrow we head south, to Krabi on the mainland.
Hanging out at Boom's Bungalows was a treat in itself. It's a secluded little place set right down in the jungle (but only 3 minutes from the main road) and you get the feeling that some of the residents might have been staying there for years. Nok, the lady who runs the place and mothers the two of us, makes the tourist towns seem a million miles away from a good time by giving you a family atmosphere and good, Thai, home-cooked food. This, it has to be said, is not entirely representative of Ko Pha-Ngang itself, which is something of a party island. And whilst we were more than in the mood for a party, both my wallet and my mind could not stand the thought of raving for 3 months straight. It would be a waste of time.
However, we rocked up at about midnight and were greeted by a 500baht entrance fee. "Once in a lifetime?" i said to Arun, and we coughed up for that, and then a bucket each. As the night went on though, it became apparent that the one stage of techno was not going to change pace. We split up and got chatting to various people.
I woke up alone in our bungalow at about 8 a.m. after two hours' sleep to the sound of knocking at the door. I presumed that i'd see Arun stumble in but on opening the door, one of the dogs from the bungalows wandered in between my legs and bedded down for the night. In my haze I let this go on. It turned out the next day that Arun had sped off to the other side of the island on a solo adventure with some new friends and was too drunk, then too hungover, to face crawling back. I settled in to a recovery day alone; I was more than recovered by the time i'd read a mis-printed version of "The Quiet American," an amazing book about Vietnam in the 50's which i finished that day. Ten hours in a hammock really gets rid of the Red Bull blues.
Arun and I agreed to meet the next day on Had Rin beach, the location of the famous Full Moon Party that, after the disappointment of the Black Moon, we've pretty much settled on returning for in either March or April. It's a stunning, long, golden beach, and we looked out at it from midday til midnight from a bar up in the mountain. Known as "Magic Mountain," this place is infamous in that it tolerates weed and magic mushrooms and these are sold over the bar, so i decided to indulge in both. A bunch of people who were sat around joined us, including Adam the American who was on holiday from Shang-hai with his girlfriend, and we all sat around watching the beautiful sky and the fire-spinners on the beach whilst talking genius insanity for hours. The guys who'd drank more mushroom-shakes than me had a really nice, civilised trip whilst i decided to smoke up and spent the day nicely stoned. It really was the final nail in the coffin for alcohol; it's impossible to see why that's the legal drug back home. We were eventually joined by a couple of Arun's friends from University, Sarah and Amy, who agreed that the bar in the mountain truly is a lovely place.
After both enjoying our first big sleeps, we again caught up with Sarah and Amy and headed up to the part of the island in the north where Arun had found himself a few nights before. It's called Had Yao and it gives a glimpse of the future of these little islands in south-east Thailand with big, fashionable complexes and (relatively) expensive restaurants. It's easy to see why as, once you leave Had Rin and the main tourist part of the island, Ko Pha-Ngang's beauty shines through the grotty huts and half-torn posters of last week's rave. The mountains are dense with trees and from the beach we could still hear the familiar screams of all kinds of birds i don't know. The beach here was pristine and the water like a warm bath. We hired some cheap snorkeling gear and took a dip which was a great way to spend the day but would later be eclipsed by another snorkeling trip. That evening, the four of us sat facing out to sea whilst eating dinner and watching the very best fire-spinner we'd seen yet. He was called Jack and his little brother Charlie also rocked. The last thing we did in Had Yao was to book a trip for the following day to Ang Thong National Marine Park...
Ang Thong
It was an early start for our day-trip out to the marine park, and we were picked up by our lively guide, who called himself "Tiger Woods," at 8 in the morning. The girls jumped in on the way and we were off on a genuine adventure.
I'd been buzzing with excitement the whole night before about this trip because it felt like the first unique experience we were going to have in Thailand so far. Tiger drove a group of us out to the bay, where we hopped on his speedboat and jetted and bounced across the sea towards Ang Thong. The park itself is a collection of rocky mountains that jut out from the sea; they have been specially preserved to the extent that it's almost impossible to stay there for more than a day at a time. We approached at around 10a.m. and were greeted by spectacular, spiky hills, again dense with trees and the sounds of birds calling. We moored on an empty beach and our guide led us towards the beginning of a hill-trek - 500 metres into the jungle top. There were viewing points at each hundred metres upward, and the trek became more and more precarious as we went. Both on the way up and the way down we crossed paths with a small family of black monkeys who took the time to check us out from the canopy, before skipping off in to the jungle. At the summit, we had to climb by hand and foot over some jagged rocks and once we made it and i'd rolled myself a congratulatory cigarette, we stood in awe at the beauty of the park. The sea barely moved and shone back up at us, whilst each island-ette contained a thick dusting of trees on all sides.
Back down, back on the speedboat, and off to the Emerald Lake. Tiger said that if we didn't visit the Emerald Lake whilst we were here, "then no point in coming you fool!" It didn't disappoint. From a viewing point about 100 metres up the land-locked seawater lake glistened blue and green and was evidently untouched. "No-one knows what fish are inside," Tiger said.
After a hearty Thai lunch with rice on yet another empty, perfect beach, Arun and I jumped in a two-man kayak and proceeded to fly around about a quarter of the Marine Park in an hour. Despite neither of us being the fittest, we're no kayak-slouches and the size of the place only really hit home at this point. Exhausted and with the sun beating down, we were grateful to hop back on the boat and zip around the corner to a snorkeling location. Tiger chucked some bread in the water and immediately more fish than I've ever seen in my life jumped out of the water, fighting over the crumbs. We jumped straight in and snorkeled for around an hour, barely lifting our heads out of the water, fascinated to watch dozens of varieties of fish swimming right in front of us above a wonderfully preserved sea bed. After this, Tiger's speedboat bounced us home across rough sea waters.
It seems that for me, the reputations of the two islands we've visited were reversed. Having partied on Ko Tao and not much else (and then gotten ill), i felt down about the trip as a whole and longed for some adventure to complement my Bacardi buckets. On Ko Pha-Ngang, we found it. Tonight we sleep back at jungle-seclusion of Boom's Bungalows, tomorrow we head south, to Krabi on the mainland.
Thursday
[Ta, Koh Tao, and ta-ta for now}
The last week of the trip has been more revealing than we, or at least I, could have expected at this stage.
It began at the end of our Bangkok experience. Emerging early to finally check out of the god-awful MarcoPolo hostel, we dropped our bags with the lovely Giftzy and decided to take a similar, slow trek to the previous day, this time heading for the famous Grand Palace. As we arrived at the huge complex, it became apparent that we were in a strict area; I had to replace my long-shorts with some novel trousers which, according to Arun, I just pulled off. Admittedly, after a few hours wandering around the assorted buildings of the palace we were a little non-plussed. The decadence of every single building, all clad in tiny shards of gold, seemed completely at odds with everything else in Bangkok, including the beautifully intricate Wat Arun which we'd visited the day before. It makes Buckingham Palace seem like some kind of office-block. Whilst everything was impressive enough, any semblence of atmopshere was almost ruined by the ridiculousness of it all. For us, the real redeeming part was the 'Temple of the Emerald Buddha' which houses, believe it or not, a small emerald statue of the Buddha and is a place of great reverence for the monks. We sat in here for 30 minutes or more, our toes pointed away from the statue, and it was an uplifting experience.
After a long, slow trek home we decided to treat ourselves to a very Western pizza lunch in a very Western pizza house. We were killing time before our night-bus to Chumphon, which would drop us off at the boat to Koh Tao. We kicked our heels along Khao San Road one more time, played some pool, and before we knew it we were waiting with a girl named Carrie for the bus. She was 'super-excited' about getting to Koh Tao, as the tiny island in the south of Thailand is the diving capital of the world. Carrie was about to complete her diving-instructor course and begin living on the island for an indefinite time, a hobbie we discovered is extremely common on Tao.
Once we'd helped carry Carrie's bags on to the bus, we sat and were grateful to Giftzy for setting us up with awesome seats at the front of the bus. We chatted to Jessie, a lady who owned a bar on the island, and this got us both excited about the place. As Star Trek played in front of us, we both got limited amounts of sleep (Arun more than I, shockingly) and only really woke up for a quick stop in a town called Hua Hin. Here we met a guy who we'd eventually befriend on Koh Tao - Joeirie the Dutch dude who'd, as he put it, "gotten the Rasta" and had dreds put into his hair. We took his number but were amused to discover that he'd accidentally booked accomodation in Phuket.
We eventually reached the island after a fairly rough catamaran ride aboard the legendary Lomprayah; conditions were sketchy on the islands but over the coming days we'd largely get away with it. As we departed the boat we broke into hilarity as Joerie texted us saying, "Hey guys, i decided to go to Koh Pha-Ngang instead, wanna have a drink?" We gently let him down, saying that he'd again gotten the wrong island.
We immediately sensed the beauty of this place; all rolling, lush hills and secluded beach bungalows. The accomodation that Giftzy had recommended didn't disappoint either. Most of the activity on the island, and the location for our next few days, happens right along one side on the awesome Sairee beach. Bars and restaurants abound, and each would become steadily busier during our stay. We decided that we'd have a quiet drink at Jessie's bar on our first night, which she kindly gave us for free. Exhausted after the trip, we lounged here with our free beer, soaking up the sunset. At this point, Arun asked a flippant question that was, for me at least, to become more and more relevant over the next few days. "Why are we on Koh Tao?" he said, not sounding pessimistic but more genuinely inquisitive. Ostensibly, we wanted to relax after Bangkok. But the question still stood. By the end, each of us would have our reason.
I got some dinner alone as Arun napped, and bought myself a bottle to drink on our balcony. The next day, we lugged our stuff up the Sairee beach in order to be in the middle of the action. We settled on some basic clay bungalows which were very reasonble, so we got one room each. Later on we met up with Carrie and her friend and enjoyed some beers, but here the limits of Koh Tao began to appear. As a completely dive-centric island, we both pondered how we'd spend our time here, other than nursing a beer. Again, we did not want to seem pessimistic or ungrateful; we were more curious than anything.
We took in a film over dinner at a cool little Mexican bar, then headed up to the beach party we'd been invited to by Jessie. It was an 'F' party, so i decided i was 'The Fool' and Arun was 'The Foreigner.' This sufficed. I lived up to my moniker by dancing my feet raw until 6 a.m. The party was nice but it felt a little underwhelming with only a couple of dozen joining us there and few friends made.
The next day, the two week mark of our trip, was spent in recovery mode. Whilst the party had been merely okay, the consumption had been spectacular. We wandered Sairee in much the same manner as we'd wandered Khao San Road, except in this place we had a beautiful beach waiting for us any time we needed our eyes to escape into the horizon. We finished the day in the little Mexican place watching Adam Sandler in 'Grown Ups,' a film so "nice" that we calmly drifted back to our bungalows and to sleep.
Joerie texted us early the next morning, letting us know that he'd finally be able to join us on Koh Tao. So we waited for him at the pier at around 2, like he'd said, except he was late and we were at the wrong pier. Finally, we found him, and caught ourselves a taxi up to the huts. Another beach party beckoned tonight, so the three of us got to kow one another over dinner and generally had a laugh, a credit to Joerie's English. As we slowly headed to the party and got some drinks there (in "bucket" form, as desribed earlier) it became apparent that tonight's vibe was much more to our tastes, so we truly got funky. The nght was going fine when i decided to take a seat on a log on the beach, and was promptly happy-slapped by some geezer who got off quickly. This, in my state, quite upset me and the question of "Why are we on Koh Tao?" arose for me as i contemplated the difference between this, and a night out in Bournemouth. Arun talked me round, and we danced til dawn.
I was pissed off the next morning, and i attributed only half of this to my hangover. "Why are we on Koh Tao?" i asked myself, thinking that even without the sour note of the party last night, I'd aimed for more than parties on this trip. Whilst Joerie and Arun chilled in the sea, braving it through another recovery day, i delved into my book and sat on the beach.
Joerie wanted to check out a bar he'd managed to get a DJ slot at, and after dinner he did just that. Whilst my mood was not at its best and Arun was still feeling the night before, we joined him for support and were genuinely not disappointed. He played some awesome hip-hop tunes as we filmed him getting on down. Unfortunately, the bar was a little dead and the atmosphere didn't quite match his set. Little did Arun and I know, but what followed was going to be a genuine treat. A few young Brits had rocked up ; apparently one of them was the only dubstep DJ on the island and he was up next. So, as we high-fived Joerie on his performance, this kid from London got up on the decks and proceeded to smash it for the next 4 hours. We didn't leave for a second, and hung out with the young Brits, Sarah, Jack and Naomi, forming a 5-person rave. Joerie decided to give a little culture clash to the night and threw down some fairly awesome dutch lyrics over the top. At the end of this night I felt better in general, presuming that hair-of-the-dog and some decent tunes had lifted me.
At half-8 the next morning, I got up and ran to the bathroom. This was the end of my next couple of days, as evidently the chicken-stick i'd bought last night had given me food poisoning. I spent the morning waiting for Arun and Joerie to wake and save me, lying face down on my bed in between bouts of bathroom-emergency. Whilst the boys were angels and fixed me up with medicine, the rest of my day, i knew, was a write-off. For hours i stared at my fan going back and forth. "Why am I on Koh Tao?" i thought. I'd experienced little Thai culture, as the island complexes are half-owned by Brits and Aussies. I'd had enough of beers, of bars, of beaches. And after about three hours reading i'd finished my book. At times, "The Man in the High Tower" by Philip K. Dick was inspirational - my feverish delirium only adding to this experience. But, "Why am I on Koh Tao?" I could read at home. Arun and Joerie had apparently had a wonderful day, snorkelling and playing chess on the beach. I'd have loved those things, but in my humid, bright, pink bedroom-come-asylum any thought of travelling-type experiences seemed miles away. I didn't eat all day, save a packet of Maltesers i'd managed to muster the energy to buy.
Whilst some would say that not eating is a bad idea, I say it was a great idea this once, as, thanks to the medicine, I woke up the next day with a genuine appetite. Gingerly i made it down to breakfast, admirably joined by Arun who'd raved through another party (this one a slight disappointment again, but again full of drinks). He'd slept about 3 hours, and I'd barely slept more than 20 minutes at a time, but still we both checked out on time. As we sat and ate on the beach, i opened up to him my fears about the trip. "Why are we here?" I asked, wondering if i could hack any more partying, knowing that we were headed for party-centric Koh Pha-Ngang that day. He calmly reassured me, but my mood got the better of me and i was blinded to any future hope for the trip. This, you'll be glad to know, was rock-bottom.
Once Joerie rose, and my mood was everso slightly raised, the three of us headed to another bar to grab a light second-breakfast, which my gut was grateful for, and here we met Ben, a genuinely interesting Aussie fella who i chatted to about work and Wikileaks. We both love Assange.
Arun had booked our ticket on the Lomprayah the day before, and we due to leave at 2. So, luggage heavily in tow, we bid a fond farewell to Joerie, who'd been exactly the kind of friend you want to make out here, although at the time my mood again clouded my perspective, and i was simply glad to be heading to a new place. As we boarded the boat, a viscious little monsoon spat down on us. Arun and I, either too lazy to move or too tired to really feel it, sat through the storm outside, both blasting tunes into our ears above the loud drone of the catamaran. We were dried by the blazing afternoon sun on the way, and I truly loved the ride across the Koh Pha-Ngang. It blew all the cobwebs away, and i realised that if i was going to enjoy anything about travelling, it might be the travelling itself. Whilst i've gotten better at flying (the flight to Bangkok caused no panic whatsoever for me), travelling by boat has always been my favourite. It's like one, long tracking-shot in a movie; everything rolls by steadily. Flying has always felt like cheating to me, cheating gravity, cheating death, but on a boat you can really feel yourself moving round the world.
As we docked on our next island, Arun was evidently exhausted but valiantly striding on. I'd spotted a decent resort in our Lonely Planet, so we headed around the ridiculous bumps and curves of the Pha-Ngang roads towards the place. When we arrived, it was an expensive resort with all the budget rooms booked out. They directed us around the corner to 'Leela Beach Bungalows,' and, both now knackered, we settled on the first 500baht (10 pounds) shared room we found. If we hadn't experienced MarcoPolo in Bangkok, i'd have thought this the worst place imaginable. The toilet door didn't close even slightly, which was not great in my current condition. We were also joined by dozens of small flies who'd made their way in through the gaping great holes in the walls.
Arun napped, and i decided to go walking in order to curb my increasing mardiness. I walked round the hill to Had Rin, the main resort on Koh Pha-Ngang and home to the infamous Full-Moon Party. As i looked for a book and some internet, i saw a road-resort which, though empty, resembled Khao San Road in every other respect. My heart sank. I was not prepared for more partying of this sort - the very British, very stupid, very loud kind. I wondered what everyone saw in this place that they couldn't get back home. Faced with the choice of this or our rough room, I wandered, getting more and more lonely. At this point i settled in an internet cafe to type out my worries, and I owe it all to Cherry back home for turning me round. Whilst still a little dismayed, after some email exchanges with her I was dtermined to let time pass, to wait for a good time.
She was right, as I truly didn't have to wait long. Today, Day 19, the 3rd of February, it all became slowly apparent. We took a look at the Lonely Planet, and tactically headed off the beaten path. We got a taxi towards our next room, stationed a couple of miles along the beach from the "Black Moon Party," the main reason we were on the island. Until today, this party had barely crossed my mind, but now it feels like it could be great. We had clearly taken a risk when we arrived at the tiny resort of "Boom Cafe," as it was down an incredibly steep slope which takes about 20 minutes to walk back up, and they only had one room left. After initially saying 'no thanks,' we turned, and faced with the prospect of going back up the hill, we decided to take the room. Good decision . It is beautiful, and the resort we're staying on is totally secluded by huge black rocks, enjoying its own tiny little bit of beach which stares out at the sunset. We took turns on our balcony hammock; we took comfotable showers; we had some lunch at the restaurant and met Nok the owner, the sweetest Thai lady we're yet to meet. When my Noodles arrived covered in nuts, she took the trouble to write out "Please don't feed me nuts, i am allergic, thankyou" in Thai on a slip of paper for my wallet.
We've decided to stay in this resort for four nights now. Tonight is the party and then we're going to kick back in paradise for a few days, maybe taking in a little kayaking at the Ang Thong National Marine Park.
So the last week was more revealing than we ever could have expected. I experienced a true low, but thanks to a few special people and a spot of secluded beauty, i do know why i'm here.
It began at the end of our Bangkok experience. Emerging early to finally check out of the god-awful MarcoPolo hostel, we dropped our bags with the lovely Giftzy and decided to take a similar, slow trek to the previous day, this time heading for the famous Grand Palace. As we arrived at the huge complex, it became apparent that we were in a strict area; I had to replace my long-shorts with some novel trousers which, according to Arun, I just pulled off. Admittedly, after a few hours wandering around the assorted buildings of the palace we were a little non-plussed. The decadence of every single building, all clad in tiny shards of gold, seemed completely at odds with everything else in Bangkok, including the beautifully intricate Wat Arun which we'd visited the day before. It makes Buckingham Palace seem like some kind of office-block. Whilst everything was impressive enough, any semblence of atmopshere was almost ruined by the ridiculousness of it all. For us, the real redeeming part was the 'Temple of the Emerald Buddha' which houses, believe it or not, a small emerald statue of the Buddha and is a place of great reverence for the monks. We sat in here for 30 minutes or more, our toes pointed away from the statue, and it was an uplifting experience.
After a long, slow trek home we decided to treat ourselves to a very Western pizza lunch in a very Western pizza house. We were killing time before our night-bus to Chumphon, which would drop us off at the boat to Koh Tao. We kicked our heels along Khao San Road one more time, played some pool, and before we knew it we were waiting with a girl named Carrie for the bus. She was 'super-excited' about getting to Koh Tao, as the tiny island in the south of Thailand is the diving capital of the world. Carrie was about to complete her diving-instructor course and begin living on the island for an indefinite time, a hobbie we discovered is extremely common on Tao.
Once we'd helped carry Carrie's bags on to the bus, we sat and were grateful to Giftzy for setting us up with awesome seats at the front of the bus. We chatted to Jessie, a lady who owned a bar on the island, and this got us both excited about the place. As Star Trek played in front of us, we both got limited amounts of sleep (Arun more than I, shockingly) and only really woke up for a quick stop in a town called Hua Hin. Here we met a guy who we'd eventually befriend on Koh Tao - Joeirie the Dutch dude who'd, as he put it, "gotten the Rasta" and had dreds put into his hair. We took his number but were amused to discover that he'd accidentally booked accomodation in Phuket.
We eventually reached the island after a fairly rough catamaran ride aboard the legendary Lomprayah; conditions were sketchy on the islands but over the coming days we'd largely get away with it. As we departed the boat we broke into hilarity as Joerie texted us saying, "Hey guys, i decided to go to Koh Pha-Ngang instead, wanna have a drink?" We gently let him down, saying that he'd again gotten the wrong island.
We immediately sensed the beauty of this place; all rolling, lush hills and secluded beach bungalows. The accomodation that Giftzy had recommended didn't disappoint either. Most of the activity on the island, and the location for our next few days, happens right along one side on the awesome Sairee beach. Bars and restaurants abound, and each would become steadily busier during our stay. We decided that we'd have a quiet drink at Jessie's bar on our first night, which she kindly gave us for free. Exhausted after the trip, we lounged here with our free beer, soaking up the sunset. At this point, Arun asked a flippant question that was, for me at least, to become more and more relevant over the next few days. "Why are we on Koh Tao?" he said, not sounding pessimistic but more genuinely inquisitive. Ostensibly, we wanted to relax after Bangkok. But the question still stood. By the end, each of us would have our reason.
I got some dinner alone as Arun napped, and bought myself a bottle to drink on our balcony. The next day, we lugged our stuff up the Sairee beach in order to be in the middle of the action. We settled on some basic clay bungalows which were very reasonble, so we got one room each. Later on we met up with Carrie and her friend and enjoyed some beers, but here the limits of Koh Tao began to appear. As a completely dive-centric island, we both pondered how we'd spend our time here, other than nursing a beer. Again, we did not want to seem pessimistic or ungrateful; we were more curious than anything.
We took in a film over dinner at a cool little Mexican bar, then headed up to the beach party we'd been invited to by Jessie. It was an 'F' party, so i decided i was 'The Fool' and Arun was 'The Foreigner.' This sufficed. I lived up to my moniker by dancing my feet raw until 6 a.m. The party was nice but it felt a little underwhelming with only a couple of dozen joining us there and few friends made.
The next day, the two week mark of our trip, was spent in recovery mode. Whilst the party had been merely okay, the consumption had been spectacular. We wandered Sairee in much the same manner as we'd wandered Khao San Road, except in this place we had a beautiful beach waiting for us any time we needed our eyes to escape into the horizon. We finished the day in the little Mexican place watching Adam Sandler in 'Grown Ups,' a film so "nice" that we calmly drifted back to our bungalows and to sleep.
Joerie texted us early the next morning, letting us know that he'd finally be able to join us on Koh Tao. So we waited for him at the pier at around 2, like he'd said, except he was late and we were at the wrong pier. Finally, we found him, and caught ourselves a taxi up to the huts. Another beach party beckoned tonight, so the three of us got to kow one another over dinner and generally had a laugh, a credit to Joerie's English. As we slowly headed to the party and got some drinks there (in "bucket" form, as desribed earlier) it became apparent that tonight's vibe was much more to our tastes, so we truly got funky. The nght was going fine when i decided to take a seat on a log on the beach, and was promptly happy-slapped by some geezer who got off quickly. This, in my state, quite upset me and the question of "Why are we on Koh Tao?" arose for me as i contemplated the difference between this, and a night out in Bournemouth. Arun talked me round, and we danced til dawn.
I was pissed off the next morning, and i attributed only half of this to my hangover. "Why are we on Koh Tao?" i asked myself, thinking that even without the sour note of the party last night, I'd aimed for more than parties on this trip. Whilst Joerie and Arun chilled in the sea, braving it through another recovery day, i delved into my book and sat on the beach.
Joerie wanted to check out a bar he'd managed to get a DJ slot at, and after dinner he did just that. Whilst my mood was not at its best and Arun was still feeling the night before, we joined him for support and were genuinely not disappointed. He played some awesome hip-hop tunes as we filmed him getting on down. Unfortunately, the bar was a little dead and the atmosphere didn't quite match his set. Little did Arun and I know, but what followed was going to be a genuine treat. A few young Brits had rocked up ; apparently one of them was the only dubstep DJ on the island and he was up next. So, as we high-fived Joerie on his performance, this kid from London got up on the decks and proceeded to smash it for the next 4 hours. We didn't leave for a second, and hung out with the young Brits, Sarah, Jack and Naomi, forming a 5-person rave. Joerie decided to give a little culture clash to the night and threw down some fairly awesome dutch lyrics over the top. At the end of this night I felt better in general, presuming that hair-of-the-dog and some decent tunes had lifted me.
At half-8 the next morning, I got up and ran to the bathroom. This was the end of my next couple of days, as evidently the chicken-stick i'd bought last night had given me food poisoning. I spent the morning waiting for Arun and Joerie to wake and save me, lying face down on my bed in between bouts of bathroom-emergency. Whilst the boys were angels and fixed me up with medicine, the rest of my day, i knew, was a write-off. For hours i stared at my fan going back and forth. "Why am I on Koh Tao?" i thought. I'd experienced little Thai culture, as the island complexes are half-owned by Brits and Aussies. I'd had enough of beers, of bars, of beaches. And after about three hours reading i'd finished my book. At times, "The Man in the High Tower" by Philip K. Dick was inspirational - my feverish delirium only adding to this experience. But, "Why am I on Koh Tao?" I could read at home. Arun and Joerie had apparently had a wonderful day, snorkelling and playing chess on the beach. I'd have loved those things, but in my humid, bright, pink bedroom-come-asylum any thought of travelling-type experiences seemed miles away. I didn't eat all day, save a packet of Maltesers i'd managed to muster the energy to buy.
Whilst some would say that not eating is a bad idea, I say it was a great idea this once, as, thanks to the medicine, I woke up the next day with a genuine appetite. Gingerly i made it down to breakfast, admirably joined by Arun who'd raved through another party (this one a slight disappointment again, but again full of drinks). He'd slept about 3 hours, and I'd barely slept more than 20 minutes at a time, but still we both checked out on time. As we sat and ate on the beach, i opened up to him my fears about the trip. "Why are we here?" I asked, wondering if i could hack any more partying, knowing that we were headed for party-centric Koh Pha-Ngang that day. He calmly reassured me, but my mood got the better of me and i was blinded to any future hope for the trip. This, you'll be glad to know, was rock-bottom.
Once Joerie rose, and my mood was everso slightly raised, the three of us headed to another bar to grab a light second-breakfast, which my gut was grateful for, and here we met Ben, a genuinely interesting Aussie fella who i chatted to about work and Wikileaks. We both love Assange.
Arun had booked our ticket on the Lomprayah the day before, and we due to leave at 2. So, luggage heavily in tow, we bid a fond farewell to Joerie, who'd been exactly the kind of friend you want to make out here, although at the time my mood again clouded my perspective, and i was simply glad to be heading to a new place. As we boarded the boat, a viscious little monsoon spat down on us. Arun and I, either too lazy to move or too tired to really feel it, sat through the storm outside, both blasting tunes into our ears above the loud drone of the catamaran. We were dried by the blazing afternoon sun on the way, and I truly loved the ride across the Koh Pha-Ngang. It blew all the cobwebs away, and i realised that if i was going to enjoy anything about travelling, it might be the travelling itself. Whilst i've gotten better at flying (the flight to Bangkok caused no panic whatsoever for me), travelling by boat has always been my favourite. It's like one, long tracking-shot in a movie; everything rolls by steadily. Flying has always felt like cheating to me, cheating gravity, cheating death, but on a boat you can really feel yourself moving round the world.
As we docked on our next island, Arun was evidently exhausted but valiantly striding on. I'd spotted a decent resort in our Lonely Planet, so we headed around the ridiculous bumps and curves of the Pha-Ngang roads towards the place. When we arrived, it was an expensive resort with all the budget rooms booked out. They directed us around the corner to 'Leela Beach Bungalows,' and, both now knackered, we settled on the first 500baht (10 pounds) shared room we found. If we hadn't experienced MarcoPolo in Bangkok, i'd have thought this the worst place imaginable. The toilet door didn't close even slightly, which was not great in my current condition. We were also joined by dozens of small flies who'd made their way in through the gaping great holes in the walls.
Arun napped, and i decided to go walking in order to curb my increasing mardiness. I walked round the hill to Had Rin, the main resort on Koh Pha-Ngang and home to the infamous Full-Moon Party. As i looked for a book and some internet, i saw a road-resort which, though empty, resembled Khao San Road in every other respect. My heart sank. I was not prepared for more partying of this sort - the very British, very stupid, very loud kind. I wondered what everyone saw in this place that they couldn't get back home. Faced with the choice of this or our rough room, I wandered, getting more and more lonely. At this point i settled in an internet cafe to type out my worries, and I owe it all to Cherry back home for turning me round. Whilst still a little dismayed, after some email exchanges with her I was dtermined to let time pass, to wait for a good time.
She was right, as I truly didn't have to wait long. Today, Day 19, the 3rd of February, it all became slowly apparent. We took a look at the Lonely Planet, and tactically headed off the beaten path. We got a taxi towards our next room, stationed a couple of miles along the beach from the "Black Moon Party," the main reason we were on the island. Until today, this party had barely crossed my mind, but now it feels like it could be great. We had clearly taken a risk when we arrived at the tiny resort of "Boom Cafe," as it was down an incredibly steep slope which takes about 20 minutes to walk back up, and they only had one room left. After initially saying 'no thanks,' we turned, and faced with the prospect of going back up the hill, we decided to take the room. Good decision . It is beautiful, and the resort we're staying on is totally secluded by huge black rocks, enjoying its own tiny little bit of beach which stares out at the sunset. We took turns on our balcony hammock; we took comfotable showers; we had some lunch at the restaurant and met Nok the owner, the sweetest Thai lady we're yet to meet. When my Noodles arrived covered in nuts, she took the trouble to write out "Please don't feed me nuts, i am allergic, thankyou" in Thai on a slip of paper for my wallet.
We've decided to stay in this resort for four nights now. Tonight is the party and then we're going to kick back in paradise for a few days, maybe taking in a little kayaking at the Ang Thong National Marine Park.
So the last week was more revealing than we ever could have expected. I experienced a true low, but thanks to a few special people and a spot of secluded beauty, i do know why i'm here.
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