Samui

After much deliberation, “epic” is the descriptor I’ve chosen, yet it still falls short of the mark. Holiday didn’t start out quite that promising however . . .
Had a lovely dinner out with Joy, one of the Thai women I work with – and her name really does do justice to her bubbling affability and smiley demeanour – before heading home at 11pm, ready to hit the hay. Had a quick (and as it turned out very fortuitous) FB browse and saw a message from Matt saying that he was setting down in Bangkok Airport at midnight. Panic struck - I’d only gone and gotten his arrival date wrong! And since I was due to meet him personally at the airport, and he had neither my address nor any means to contact me, I had to act fast.
Bolted out my apartment, flagged down a cab, sped toward Suvarnabhumi Airport posthaste. Got there just as his flight landed. Walked around, seemingly aimless, thinking that with a terminal this size we were in a needle/haystack situation. Lady Luck was watching out for us however, and a “Fuck me! There he is!” bellow from my estranged best buddy set all (apart from more than a few faces of disapproval) to rights.
A few brews at the airport and straight back to mine to crash out.
Had a few lessons the next day, then took on the mantle of tour guide. We hit Sukhumvit, Bangkok’s aorta, the road on which I’d taken a tentative first step two months earlier. My stride was more confident now, and we went straight to my local pool joint. “Can’t serve alcohol”, said the Landlord. “It’s the last day of Buddhist Lent and every bar in the country is bound by royal decree not to serve booze until midnight.”
We were lost for words. How was this possible? How could our first night in the Big Mango be a sober one? But then I thought, ‘This is Thailand’ – a dictum acronymically know as TIT (and an unintended pun to boot) – and I knew there had to be a way to slake our thirst.
Epiphany struck, not the most respectable this blogger hastens to add, but with logic that proved sound. Prostitution is technically illegal in Thailand, yet it’s widely available and often endorsed by corrupt authorities. So if the red-light districts can get away with the aforementioned, then surely a swift pint or two on a day such as this wouldn’t be out of the question?
Thus we saw ourselves saying “Cheers!” with a couple of Heineken-filled coffee cups under the dimly-lit overheads in a bar situated within one of these rather insalubrious areas. This was not by choice, but necessity. For we were British.
Midnight struck, Bangkok responded, and we spent the night painting it red.

The next night I recall like a badly cut nineteen-twenties film reel, but the snippets lead me to believe it followed a similar premise: booze, music, party. No drugs however. Heaven forbid! They are a damn side less tolerant about them over here, and one could easily find oneself holidaying in an abode with metal-barred windows for a lengthy stretch if one felt inclined to partake. Of course, if one had a few thousand bribery baht to hand, one would probably be okay: TIT.
Friday morning, we drag our lifeless corpses out of my apartment and fall into the nearest airport-bound cab, trying to keep our alcohol-induced nausea at bay. Only one of us managed.
A one hour domestic flight to Koh Samui soon saw us in tropical island paradise, and any aftereffects we might’ve had from the Thai capital were soon dispersed - lush beeches lapped by warm, clear waves; salty sea breeze, fresh and uncorrupted by pollutants; forest-clad mountains sawing at a brilliant blue sky. Yeah, this now felt like a real holiday and not just a protracted piss-up.
We checked in at The Ark Bar on Chaweng Beech, a resort that’s world famous for its beech parties. Lost no time in splashing down into the Bar Pool (one of three swimming pools in the resort) and swam over for some cocktails which we could drink whilst admiring the seascape beyond. Never done that before!
Figuring that it would be unexpedient not to do something touristy/cultural at some point during our holiday, we called it an early night and regrouped in the morning for a full day safari around Samui.
Our tour guide was a dreadlocked, hippified Thai, who, once we’d all been collected from our respective hotels, proceeded to temp us with his large sack of magic mushrooms. Quite why shrooms are completely legal when there are pretty serious consequences for messing around with far less harmful drugs is beyond me, and none of us took him up on his offer. He shrugged and munched a few himself for good measure. It was comforting to know that we had a separate driver.
A summary of our itinerary: saw some very suggestive rock formations; watched a monkey scale a palm tree, throw down some coconuts, before photo-posing on each of our shoulders; hugged a fairly docile adult leopard whilst Matt tried to feed a recalcitrant infant tiger; got my crotch massaged by an adult elephant (was always on my bucket list); went for a stomp on the back of the aforementioned animal; frolicked under picturesque waterfalls; ate a traditional Thai meal at a restaurant on the Samui summit (have never witnessed such epic views whilst chowing down); sat roof-top on our safari buggy over the mountains (a trip that had us holding on for dear life every second; we weren’t driving over roads, but rutted, partially graveled, wholly unfinished, imitations of them); saw a tranquil Buddist garden on the mountain top; witnessed sap being bled from a rubber tree; descended from the mountain rooftop-style, with even more trepidation.
Eye-opening, awe-inspiring, and a shit load of fun. Back home the RSPCA would’ve had a field day, and I did feel a pang of sorrow for these animals, especially the circus elephant who was made to play football, do the hula with its trunk, and go tug-of-warring against 15 of us blokes, but that’s just the way it works out here so mai pen rai.
Got dropped off back at the resort in high spirits, ready to celebrate Halloween Ark-Bar style. Got zombied up with some holidaying Taiwanese girls we’d met before hitting the beech and partying hard. Booming bass boxes, cocktail buckets, awesome pyrotechnic performers stood on raised wooden platforms out past the waves, a sea of undead partygoers reveling on a moonlit beech, yeah it was all pretty damn cool.
All good things have to come to an end, however, and the next day, nursing hangovers from hell, we said goodbye to tropical island paradise and flew back to the Big Mango.
My first experience of Thailand outside of Bangkok was an unforgettable one, and this blogger thoroughly recommends Samui as a welcome excursion to the bustle of the big city. We’ll more than likely be going back next year, extending our trip to see the sister islands, as it’s an experience that one wants to relive time and again. There were some English Language schools in Samui, but I think it would be wishful thinking to imagine myself lucky enough to land a job in one of them – the waiting list of applicants is probably a long one!