Aussies in Ang Thong

Picture of the sea taken by Meddie on our way back to Koh Samui, will add more pictures to this post when I can download them off my camera

Our Secret Garden was so beautiful, our beach so restful and secluded, that it was hard to work up the energy to leave it, but we (and by we I mean Lei our wonderful travel agent) booked a day trip to the Angthon National Marine Park. This cluster of 42 islands is about 90 minutes and a world away from Koh Samui, and just about one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen.

We took an early boat with our tour operator, which was staffed by a host of real characters who handed out breakfast and sea sickness tablets. Evie did not take this as a good sign and so she took her pill and we headed for the upper deck. Thanks to my Dad I was brought up on boats and so am pretty much immune to sea sickness and have me some good, strong sea legs, and so while others lurched and groaned, I dangled my feet over the side and smiled into the sea breeze.

On the upper deck we found ourselves sharing a sun mattress with a pair of Aussies. Now we had already been made aware that the world was ridiculously small - the night before we had met some Northern English lads and discovered one lived around the corner from me in Earlsfield, and the other had recently visited SA to see family in Amanzimtoti (Evie's home town) - but nothing had prepared us for this. Our mattress mates were good naturedly mocking our accents while telling us typical things said by their token SA work mate, Bryce. They were recounting some ridiculous Bryce-isms when I said 'Hang on, Bryce McNamara?' and the said 'YES!' Ah! I know about one person in the whole of Oz and the know him too! And so it is that the universe ordained tht we should meet these insane Aussie beetches and so it was. So I introduce to Maddie and Louise, our island sistas sent to make everything doubly as funny, ridiculous and inappropriate. Maddie (or Meddie) can only be described as the love child of Madonna (Medonna) and DeeDee from Dexter's lab. The godesses blessed her with the most brilliant sense of humour, but to pay for this she was not granted a social filter, and therefore 3 hours with Meddie can be a little like reading a rather intimate medical history or love letter. She had us sharing horror stories in no time. Louise is a land lover. As soon as we were off the boat her green hue receded to reveal Greecian skin and black curls (damn her). Little did we know then, but this glamazon is a man eater of epic proportions. Phangan partiers didnt stand a chance (but this shall be revealed in good time). She also has the most contagious laugh in the world that rippled right across the water, reaching Evie and I in our kayaks.

That's right - kayaks! I haven't been in a kayak since a Spirit of Adventure camp in matric, but here we were maneouvering a giant green beastie about the water. But just in case you thought kayaking was a spot of fun - you are mistaken! Not with Herr Evie at the helm. Urged on by our German guide ('Do not use paddles as veapons') the usually placid Evie took on fuhrer proportions as she barked 'LEFT! RIGHT! LEFT! RIGHT! RIGHT!' and insisted we 'win' - no medals, no trophies, no one noticing, but we won anyway.

It was exhilirating though, and when I fell out of the boat, legs and arms like jelly, I was glad to have done it. After collapsing on the beach for a while we made the trek up a set of treacherous MacGuiver type stairs for ten minutes to reach an amazing view point over looking the island and a gorgeous lagoon. I am a city dweller, and living surrounded by my towers of concrete and wondering at man's Art and Architecture, its so easy to forget that nature had that ability first - the ability to take our breath away. And so we contemplated and marvelled and then headed back to the boat for a simple Thai lunch and a little cruise to our final beach.

The four of us collapsed on the beach for the afternoon, three of us lost in the swaying palm trees, Meddie just fearful of death by coconut. It was an afternoon of laughter and plotting for the reunion and madness that would happen on Koh Phangan...

Kicking back in Koh Samui

To attempt to formulate some sort of narrative out of our time in Koh Samui would be madness. It was too varied and full, and attempting to impose a story structure on it would make it into the blog equivalent of showing someone your holiday snaps - boring! (I will be doing this to some of you when I get home though)

Koh Samui was my first real taste of Thailand, and what a way to start. Evie says it is by far the friendliest island she has been on, and really everyone we met was lovely and helpful. The Secret Garden was on the quietest stretch of beach, fringed by coconut palms leading onto white sandy beaches and blue waters. Our room was simple with a balcony where we could sit and enjoy the sea breeze, and chat away the hours. Our first full day there we swam and sunbathed all morning - the first time I had done that in years. My poor pasty skin got a bit of a shock at the sight of the sun and all my little, long forgotten freckles appeared one by one, like stars in the sky.

We found the most wonderful travel agent lady called Lei, who booked our passage to Koh Phangan and our accommodation there as well (we procrastinators left it to the least minute and thought we might be speed boating to and from the NYE Full Moon Party) which meant we could relax about where to next. SHe also organised us a trip to Angthong National Marine Park - more about that later...

One of the highlights of my time on Koh Samui was our visit to an incredible spa (I will remember the name of it later, but right now the brain is fried). Having heard of the wonders of Thai massage (no happy endings thanks) I was keen to get one, but Evie refused to let me first experience of this wonderful art be from some woman who sat on her stoep screaming 'mahsaaaaase' and who would then continue watching TV and chatting to her friends while you attempted to reach your zen state. So, we choose a fancy shmancy spa, which sent an air conditioned taxi to fetch us, and from the moment we set foot in there we were queens. After choosing our oils (a forest blend) we were led upstairs where our feet were washed in beautiful scented water and we changed into wraps. Our massages took place under a wooden gazabo draped with mosquito netting a few feet from the sea. The massage was a combination of swedish aromatherapy and traditional Thai massage and after the week's travelling toils was precisely what I needed. The setting was so restful and the sound of the waves so calming that I felt everything slip away. It lasted 2 hours and cost 2300B (approximately 50 quid) - well worth it.

And so while the main point of our Samui stay was relaxation and rejuventation, we did have one night of total, debaucherous indulgence. We ventured out from our sheltered beach paradise into the fray of the Samui night life. Chaweng is the hedonistic heart beat of Samui. Picturesque white beaches are lined with tourist filled bars. Music beats and blasts out of each one, blending to create a cacophany added to by the shouts of stall holders and lady boys. The lady boys strut their wears up and down crowded streets, hollering at tourists. The young ones are dresses ala Pretty WOman in tight mini skirts and thigh high boots, but as they age they add head dresses, sequins and sparkles. The older the face the bigger the head dress. The calls melt into the haggling and bartering sounds of the market. We follow a strand of good music, through the thumping base into an Aussie bar called Bondi, where an all Thai band were playing incredible rock covers. Island Rock played everything from Led Zeplin to ACDC, and they played it well. We bopped along for a few hours drinking ice cold Singhas and meeting a rather strange selection of people, until the bar shut ans we were turfed out into the night once more, so sad to leave our new favourite band.

Now if we had been smart at this point we would have headed home with a good night out behind us, but oh no! We poured out of Bondi and into the Chaweng night, keen to keep the party going. This led us to follow the crowd of drunken sheep to the entrance of Sound Club. The beats and lounge furniture outside did nothing to prepare us for what we would find inside - a heaving, sweating beast of a trance party. I was totally floored by the mix of crazy dancing, bumping and grinding, and the hook ups taking place everywhere. There was a host of pretty Thai girls, and an equal number of horny tourists. By this point we were off our faces and trying to aclimatise to the electro thumping out of everywhere, but I am still pretty sure I could figure out what was going on here.

But we closed our eyes and let the beats take us somewhere primal. Perhaps all in preparation for the carnal carnage of Koh Phangan...

One way ticket to Hell and back

Scenery rushing past our train window

I lie awake thinking of Christmas nights passed. In SOuth Africa they are spent floating in a cool swimming pool, drinking with family and friends.In London spent in the warm indoors playing charades and cards, laughing over mulled wine. This Thai one was spent in a 1930s train with the noises of 40 other poor, unfortunate passengers in various states of sleep.

This was not what we had envisaged - we were promised a first class sleeper cabin, know we knew to take this with a pinch of salt but no one had mentioned industrial air con and flourescent lighting, the uncanny resemblance of our bunks to prison cells or the long drop toilet that probably had its last clean when Thailand was still Siam. We were not lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the locomotive, but prevented from it in a cruel form of torture which included screeching, grinding and frequent sudden stops. And so it came to pass that we spent Christmas night eating nachos and haribos, anti bacterialing everything and laughing hysterically at our own misfortune.

In my prison bunk

After finally nodding off in the early hours we were unceremoniously pulled from slumber with shouts of wake up wake upand made aware that we were running 2 hours late... And so we had more time with the cackling staff who were having a party in the seats next to ours.

By the time we got off we were eagerly anticipating our Samui hideaway, the ocean and some clean sheets. But our limbo was to continue for a further 3 hours: Bus, Ferry, Minibus. And so ended the intermeniable journey, with a happy ending like all good fairy tales. Secret Garden is a paradise - palm trees, white sand, a gently rolling ocean. The gardens are humming with butterflies and secret buddahs sit around cool ponds choked with water lilies. We ordered our first real meal since Christmas, a couple of cocktails and everything else dissapeared. Sometimes life is about the destination and you have to do your damndest to forget the journey.

And so later, as we wallowed in the wonderful sea water, our hair spread out about us like mermaids, we saw a plane landing in the distance... Why the fuck didn't we fly?!