Travel Diaries: Thailand Revisited
It’s about time I introduced a new character. However, this character does not have a name. They do not have a face, a body, a soul, or feelings. They don’t own clothes, have a political allegiance, a gender, or a job. I don’t even know if they exist, but by laws of elimination, they must do.
I suspect this character of three things; what they are, where they live, and their purpose. They are a parasite, who resides in my body, and whose purpose is to cause relentless damage to my bowels and arsehole. If they did align with a political philosophy, it would be fascism, for their aim is to cause nothing but destruction to my innocent insides.
Fear not - I’m not going to go off on a tangent about my loose stool again, no one wants to read about that, but I think it’s important to highlight how detrimental it’s been to how much fun I’ve been having. Soundtracked by “Ring of Fire” by Johnny Cash, I’ve been bed bound for a couple of days, and had time to reflect on what it could possibly be, and it must be a parasite. Perhaps I’m wrong (I hope I am), but all I know is that the floodgates have been well and truly opened.
On the topic of floodgates being opened, I was met with an abundance of shoutout requests after giving our John a mention a couple of entries ago. Therefore, this one is dedicated to the following people: my great Auntie Lindsey (not my “great auntie,” but my auntie who happens to be great), my sister-in-law, Lucy (who is also great), and my Mum’s friend, Kryssie (who I’ve heard is great, though I’ve never actually met her).
Our first night back in Thailand was uneventful. We’d booked a fourteen-bed dorm room in Phuket, where we’d spent about twelve hours, before making our way towards the island of Koh Samui.
Bright and early the next day, we got a fifteen-minute taxi to the bus station, followed by a five-hour bus to the Donsak pier, where we jumped on a two-hour ferry, before hopping into a twenty-minute tuk-tuk to the Bad Monkey hostel, where we lugged our bags up a flight of stairs and checked in. We’d booked three nights there, which would unfortunately be the last we’d spend with Helena, Tanya and Matt… in Asia, at least, anyway.
Now is probably a good time to stress how brilliant our journey with the Aussies has been. They’d sporadically been with us for eight weeks, and our trip would have been very different had Eden not asked them to play cards on that muggy night in Chiang Mai. It was a friendship that was sparked instantly, and isn’t going to burn out any time soon. One really gets to know someone when they spend every minute of every day with them, and I’m sure Mia and Eden would agree with me when I say I’m honoured to know them as well as I do. It’s going to be a very different last couple of weeks travelling without them, and we can’t wait to pick up where we left off once we arrive in Brisbane.
Downstairs from the hostel reception stood a flashy pool bar and restaurant named Hustlers, recently renovated, which offered a 50% discount on all items for guests staying at Bad Monkey. We definitely got our money’s worth throughout the three days, given that Mia couldn’t venture too far away from an adequate bathroom facility, as she was still well and truly a shitty arse.
I got chatting to one of the staff members, Jean, a sixty-plus Swedish man who was seemingly running the show. He informed me he’d been hired by the company that owned the bar as a “consultant”, which meant he could do anything and everything, regardless of a work permit. I told him about my kitchen background and he offered me a job on the spot. His offer was retracted, however, when I told him I’d only be able to commit to about four weeks of work. He probably dodged a bullet anyway…
Just a short walk from the hostel stood one of many 7-Elevens - the heavenly convenience store that can be found all throughout Thailand. As far as convenience stores go, they are so convenient. Cold food, hot food, cold drinks, hot drinks, ice cold ice creams and room temperature cigarettes are just a few of the items available for purchase. I must’ve visited the same branch thrice a day during my time on the island, but encountered an unusual obstacle every time I made the journey. Unlike the parasite, this obstacle did in fact have a face, a body, a soul and feelings. Similarly to the parasite, though, this obstacle’s gender was ambiguous… this obstacle was a ladyboy.
Every time I innocently wandered past these “masseuses” I would play a little game with myself and see how it long it would take for the advances and catcalls to start. Thirty seconds was the average.
“Hello Mr. Handsome!” Exclaimed one.
“I give you special discount!” Shouted another.
“No thanks,” I replied, smirking, secretly loving the attention.
It was funny, because they wouldn’t approach me as long as I was with either Mia or Eden. I’d love to know how much of the Thai economy is made up of sex work, although the majority of it won’t be declared. I could probably Google it, but I can’t be bothered.
On one of the occasions I was walking to 7-Eleven, I was physically groped by one of the ladyboys. The worst part was, after I’d rejected their advances and bought whatever I needed from the shop, I then had to walk back past them and go through it all over again. In this instance, on my walk back I purposely crossed the road to get away from them. I was harassed verbally from across the street, and as I waved them away with a cheeky smile on my face, strutting back to the hostel as if I was King of the World, I lost my footing on the kerb and went over on my ankle. This sent the ladyboys into hysterics, but, although embarrassed, it filled me with immense pride that if I couldn’t fill their desires sexually (or let’s be honest, financially), I could at least provide them with some entertainment.
We spent half a day on the beach and the other half at a day-club which was the temporary home to a number of Instagram models and chavs who had been plucked off one of the Balearic Islands. Later that evening, we found ourselves in a bar showing the football; live Premier League and Spanish La Liga matches. Whilst watching the enthralling contest between Villarreal and Celta Vigo, there was a VAR review for a potential foul in the box. I muttered under my breath, “never a penalty in a million years.” I use the term “muttered”, but I must’ve said it loudly enough for a chap beside me to hear, and he expressed his agreement before sparking a conversation.
He was a middle-aged Man Utd fan from Nottinghamshire, who’s name I can’t remember, so we’ll refer to him as Rob (Robin Hood). It wasn’t love at first sight by any means - he came across as a bit of a show off, explaining how he and his Thai wife had bought a few plots of land both on the island and the mainland, and how he can run his UK car park business from his laptop. However, my impression of him was turned on it’s head when he bought our table a round of drinks, about ten minutes after I’d said goodbye to him. In the toilet of the same bar, I got chatting to a retired Welshman named Nigel who now lives in Tunbridge Wells, and who’s son was doing a similar route to us. He was full of unsolicited and unwanted advice, which I inattentively absorbed.
The beaches in our immediate area on the island were a bit underwhelming. They had very short coastlines, were crowded and dirty, and were well below our expectations (considering we’d recently been on the tropical paradise of Koh Rong). Our last day, however, was spent on a much nicer beach which was, although still busy, much cleaner. That evening, we bode a tearful farewell to our Aussie counterparts, and had an early night before our early morning departure for the next island - Koh Tao, where we’d be meeting back up with Josh, Dylan and James.
Koh Tao is much smaller in size compared to the likes of Koh Samui and Koh Pha-Ngan, but has a day and nightlife scene just as bustling and eventful. It was on the ferry there that I received a message from Binh’h, who had texted to tell me he’d come off his bike, damaging both the moped and himself. His injuries included a dislocated arm and some cuts and bruises, but all in all he was going to be fine and was still in good spirits.
Being as small as the island is, it feels quite cramped in the pedestrianised areas (which aren’t actually pedestrianised, as scooters beep and weave their way through the crowds of people). The atmosphere was also different to what we’d anticipated. We were expecting a similar vibe to Pai, in North Thailand; laid back, hippy-vibe, relatively undiscovered, full of characters and rum shacks. But, in reality, it was full of tourists, families and backpackers alike, and a large number of them being Spanish.
As soon as we’d arrived on the island, I felt compelled to upgrade my RSA membership to the Platinum Pro option, as my body began to reject everything from chicken fried rice to water. This, in turn, meant I would have a quiet couple of days in store, giving me plenty of time to have a mental breakdown about the prospect of moving to Australia in a matter of weeks with no home, no job, and no solid pooing routine lined up.
It had come around so fast, and we didn’t have anything planned. The fear of the unknown and impending homelessness and unemployment didn’t do my stomach any good. The thought of it was nerve-wracking and I was shitting myself (both metaphorically and physically), but it was time to pull my crocs up and get some logistics organised. I’ll go into more detail in the next entry, but in fairness, through relentless networking, we think we might’ve managed to put some of our worries at bay.
In terms of my physical health, I must admit bed bound is probably an exaggeration. I managed to make it out of bed to consume some as-plain-as-possible sustenance. Plain omelette, plain rice, a bit of soy sauce, washed down with water… that was about as interesting as it got.
After draining 7-Eleven’s stock levels of water on the second day, I got chatting to a couple of Spanish lads outside the shop, whilst the girls were buying some items containing excessive amounts of sugar. Not knowing the boys’ nationality, I’d asked to use their lighter, which sparked one of them to make a remark about the Valencia football shirt I was wearing. He told me Los Che were his team, and that he hailed from the city, so I took the opportunity to reel off the auto-pilot sentence I blurt out whenever I meet a Spaniard:
“Vivía en la Communitat Valenciana para siete años cuando ser un niño.”
They were impressed that I knew the language and had some sentimental reasoning for wearing the shirt, instead of just wearing it for a laugh. But, before I had the chance to explain that my Spanish accent is completely unrepresentative of my memory of the vocabulary, the gentleman went off on a monologue which seemed to last forever. Chopping and changing between proper Spanish (Castilian) and Valencian (local dialect), he must’ve asked me four different questions in one breath, and seemed perplexed when I just smiled and nodded in response.
The girls appeared out of nowhere with a medley of sweet treats, and saved me from the awkward encounter. Great timing, because I was about to shit my pants and I don’t know how to explain that politely in Spanish.
Mia and Eden had also bought a few cans of Chang for us to drink in the room of the guesthouse we were staying in, in preparation for the “Secret Jungle Rave” we’d promised to attend that evening. Timekeeping and traffic is something that Thai people haven’t quite managed to master yet, and it would seem secrecy is also something they’re yet to grasp, given that there were signs for the Secret Jungle Rave all over the island.
It got to about nine o’clock, I’d been to the toilet thirteen times and counting, and really wasn’t feeling up for raving. I’d tried sinking a tin of Chang, but it was just causing Catherine wheels to spin in my stomach, so I regrettably announced that I wouldn’t be attending, and instead opted to watch educational Spanish videos to ensure that what happened earlier that day would never happen again. To my delight, Mia stayed with me, and to my dejection, Eden didn’t, and so off she went with Josh and Dylan to the rave, after saying “buenas noches.”