Thailand: Koh Pha Ngan and the Full Moon Party

Dear All

80 Kg of pure Gap Year Brit lay unconscious on Haad Rin beach. He is still holding his half finished Chiang Beer and surrounded by emptied small buckets which used to be filled with an evil brew of local Thai whisky, Red Bull and Coke- a blend capable of killing a large cow at 50 feet and blanking your memory from the last few years. Around this poor super party animal dances the hedonistic tribe of various European, Israeli and Canadian creatures that twist and turn to a blend of either RNB, house or Drum and Bass. The carnage left behind as the sun rises is a beach scattered with beer bottles and plastic buckets, newly made romances suck face as the alcohol convinces them that their temporary satisfaction is eternal and the lady-boys scrounge between the beach side clubs for the overdrunk to bring back home with them for a few hundred Baht and a typical night's work. As the sun creeps over the edge of the horizon that is intermittently blocked by taxi boats, the select few hard cores grab what plastic chairs remain unbroken from the night of dancing, drinking and shameless pick up to watch a yellow sun expose a world that never stops partying. I smile as my bones and muscles ache from dancing continuously and constantly for days which lead to it's climax for the Fill Moon - a legendary party with it's legendary chaos. How did I start in the "civility" of Bangkok and get here to the whirlwind of debauchery on Koh Pha Ngan? It all began with a hesitant decision to go to the Full Moon Party.

My new passport is being processed. I have to wait two weeks before I can get a new one as mine is full and with this time preventing me from leaving the country, the Full Moon Party seems like the most interactive choice to go to which then means returning for a second time to the Haad Rin Beach of Koh Pha Ngan. I don't like doubling back on places I have been before and there are many beaches I haven't seen yet but this one has one special feature - a well known Full Moon Party that has a world renowned reputation of being one of the best beach parties in the world. With itchy feet ready to rip up the dance floor, I made my way to my local cheap travel agent and bought my ticket.

I have forgotten how casual I have taken the process of getting around these days as the convenience of this tourist country makes getting around easier than passing a bowel movement after too much Indian curry. There are a few tricks to know to be a successful HOBO - budget traveller with more time than money. On Khao San, look for the agencies that advertise their prices on the street. These guys want you to now how cheap they are instead of hiding the amount they are trying to cheat you into. During low season, like now, you can buy your ticket the day of. I get it the day before just to cement the deal and not worry about not having space. This ticket is all inclusive from guest house to bus to ferry to island. No thinking please. Check out of your guest house and leave your stuff in one of several places that will hold your big bag for the day for free or for a few Baht charge. Here, many places offer a baggage storage for those that will be away for two weeks and don't need their whole bag and the fee can be as low as 5 Bhat per day (if you are a successful hobo and have found that perfect spot) At 6pm, the guest house round up the tourists like lost sheep in a diesel exhaust grassland. The group gets sticker ed the first of which is a pink one with the label of the guest house name and the destination - like a cattle branding. Those that go to Ko Samui are also on this bus as the boat ferry stops first in Ko Samui then to Ko Pha Ngan. Herded around and across a small stretch of highway we are relieved of the one thing that identifies and unifies us - our backpacks - and we climb onto a double decker bus. The top has a 2x2 seating arrangement with thin tissue-like blankets lay across the headrest to warm those that recognize that the air con offered as a bonus in the ad will actually cause near hypothermia if not properly monitored. The bus leaves late though some people, like the Finnish who were sitting next to me and who don't sleep in the Khao San area, have been waiting for hours until all of the dysfunctional backpackers have made their way to the grassy inter highway island where several buses wait. This bus had a bottom love shack - a circular table with a circular couch previously designed for rock stars to snort coke from but now simply offer awkward seating for an already overbooked bus. Though there is a toilet on board, the bus makes its first toilet break within the first hour of the trip. Those still not frozen stiff by the tundra like blast from the air con make their way down to the gas station snack bar and grab their assortment of heart disease related goods and the bus is off again. The TVs on the bus are placed so that a select few have the best view and the rest have this strained neck side angle that distorts the image but not enough to complain. The first movie is a light yet common Hollywood feel-good flick that made me laugh and made the rest of the bus laugh at me. The second movie, something that doesn't happen often during an overnight bus ride, was a bad b-rated psychological thriller and the Finnish family, one with a puking ten year old, kept saying "Eis gud entertienment" in a universally understood disgruntled tone. With the movie done and the Finnish finished their crossword, the lights go out so that we can sleep. Sleep is a temporary condition on these trips as if the bus driver and conductors feel that if they shouldn't sleep, we shouldn't sleep. A short two hours into REM, the bus lights come on, the clock strikes midnight and we are shuffled off the bus to a restaurant in the middle of nowhere that serves food at triple the normal rate. I have no idea where we are and are at the mercy of the bus drivers. Back on after an hour of waiting, ten minutes of which was spent eating dinner, and the bus light are off again, the air con replacing the light that once kept us in the illusion of warmth. Some people keep their lights on like on planes to read or write but soon the bus is roaring and we are snoring. Darkness still consumes the sky as the lights to the bus wake us when it reaches its destination after an uneasy 4 hours sleep where, at 5 am, we get resorted and replace one paper ticket for a green sticker which reconfirms our destination as if the first pink one wasn't convincing enough. We are in the evil death trap of Surat - the place where I got scammed the first time going to Khao Sok but instead of being in the bus station, we are at some travel agency and with the daylight comes the touts who have novels of hotel ads with unreasonable prices to hawk at us showing us pictures of rooms which most likely were taken when the hotel was first built. In the touts defence, if you do say you have a hotel, they do politely walk away and thank you for your time. They do this everyday and can read a budget hobo traveller the moment their stink pours off the night bus. Surat is a central point that takes most of it's white skinned sheep to the left or right towards the island of your choice. Once all the buses from all the companies have arrived, we are resorted again to a new bus to take us to the ferry. This is a short hour drive and we get to the ferry office gate who take a third ticket from us and puts a red sticker on us, this one with a picture of a boat on it and the words "joint ticket" as if it may imply some Rastafarian influence. Those going to Ko Samui get a blue sticker. Stickered up and still under the influence of Mother's Little Helper we board the ferry. The ferry takes a good two hours to get to Ko Samui. The inside of the ferry has the typical Thai super air con and a movie seen only by those close to the screen and audible only to those that have the super mutant power of distinguishing between engine roar and bad TV speaker fuzz. Two movies occupied the time from the ferries start, the time when the Ko Samui folk get off and the time the rest of us get to our final party island destination, Koh Pha Ngan. There are multiple beaches on this island. As you walk off the ferry, sweating from the 30 degree heat and blistering sun, the touts with signs of your beach of choice chase after you and shuffle you into a taxi cab fit for 8 but stuffed to ten for a unionized and non negotiable price of 50 Baht. There is a tout on board and, in this case, it was for the guest house I wanted anyways so I followed them to the place. The Paradise Guest Hose id where is all started - The original full moon party but when the tout brought me there the place was full but since arrived over a week early, I managed to find a beach side bungalow with ease. Between the boredom of the waiting for the destination and the frustration of arriving, the site of a bed to call my own for the next few days seems godsend. I opened my bag and officially began using the real purpose of this country - chill out.

The party beach of Haad Rin is set up for two reasons: to sun bathe and party. The first hot days of my arrival were met with empty restaurants and scattering of topless girls all ensuring their nipples are the same colour as the rest of their skin. I wandered the streets alone but not for long. Within hours I met Ravit, a sweet hearted girl that kept me company those first few days. That first night I got to experience the meaning of beach party.

The beach is set up with the clubs set a fair distance from the water and with beautiful white sand in between. As the night draws closer, the bar staff set up plastic chairs and floor mats with little tables and oil lamps dimly lighting the spaces between buzzing conversations. This early time is the most civil and the most beautiful as the light flicker of the oil lamps brings a new beauty to the beach. The tourists are a general blend of gap year Brits and Aussies, post army Israelis, and an offencive number of Canadians who knew that Canada Day conveniently landed on the night of the full moon. The first bar which appears as you walk off the road onto the beach is the Cactus which plays a brutal rotation of RNB, House and inappropriate guitar rock on some sort of three hour cycle. By midnight, the beach and the road that leads to the Chicken Corner - a 24 hour sandwich district - is full of braided hair Israelis and party-goers in their "Same Same but Different" T-shirts. The dancing goes on all night but in those early days, there were only two clubs, the Cactus and the Drop In which both play similar stuff. I danced non stop regardless of what kind of music elitist London has turned me into. Lining the streets and in the bars, sold by tailors and restaurants alike for those impatient to wait for inebriation is the Bucket of Joy.

The bucket of joy is probably the drinkers worst enemy and best friend all at the same time. It is a small bucket, which can hold about two litres of fluid, and is filled with a mickey of Sangsom whisky (the local Thai solvent), a bottle of red bull and a can of coke then, in typical Thai style, overfilled with ice. Add seven straws so that people don't have to share the same one - which is completely ignored anyways - and you have what people called A Bucket. For a little under US$4 or 150 Baht you can get completely shit faced to the point where you find the sand soft like kitten fur and ready for beddybye. Many victims of The Bucket were immobilized by its immense and sudden alcoholic strength so that they became exposed to the morning sun without realizing it. Inter spaced between the bodies that made the beach look like the D-Day attack on Normandy are the alcohol induced romances that added to the hedonism and debauchery. The Bucket made the ugly look like Brad Pitt and many couples were openly groping, fondling and making out in the openness of the Buddhist air. Holiday love has never had a greater impact than here and with some of the most beautiful people I have seen together on one beach, it makes sense that the sexual energy of the party, mixed with cheap alcohol and hot sweaty clubs would produce a world where free love is obviously expressed. As the sun rose in the morning, the silhouette of the taxi boats and their drivers became visible entities and the drunks and their drunk crossed lovers were sleeping like babies in each others arms and legs in what I felt was a beautiful site of true holiday romance. I managed to see the sun rise every day for the entire time I was there. Every morning I took my plastic white chair and sat and watched a sun run as my muscles relaxed. Those that shared these fantastic moments were some old friends and some new ones. Ana and Kristen, the most positive, well spirited and fun girls that I first met in Chiang Mai met me again on the dance floor of the Cactus. They were a wonderful surprise that blessed my time there. I couldn't have sweated it out hard enough without them. Then, a newcomer, Pete - a funky house fanatic who's voice of reason made a mushy night much more fun - something I would definitely repeat and was a highlight of my trip. Then, one of the most important characters in this movie is the poet Lucy who kept me company as the sun rose every morning and kept me entertained with her good humour and great personality. A partner in crime I have never had better and, like with all the crew I hung out with, we burned down the dance floor for days. But for all the fun and excitement of the party, for all the world that is lost for the moment, there is a darker side.

The clubs are filled with Thai hookers and some are lady-boys, the cross dressed pre-ops hoping to catch some drunken British hornball whose libido has been compromised by their alcoholism and better judgement floats away with the lowering tide. Between the clubs that started to open the closer you got to the Full Moon such as the Drum and Bass Orchid Club or my personal hangout, the funky house club of The Big Boom Bar, there would be many lady-boy hookers approaching and propositioning you for a quickie for a discount. Many girls that I hung out with told me that it was great that guys can finally realized what it is like to be a girl constantly harassed by guys like me trying to pick them up. These ladyboys were persistent and irritating to the point where I had to lose my Buddhist style patience and tell them to f-off. The Thai hookers that are really girls dance in the clubs alongside the stew of men who shamelessly try to get a shag for the night. I got an occasional crotch grab which I ignored - they are only doing their job. Many of those who got so drunk that they couldn't wake from their slumber on the beach got fleeced - picked dry of their wallets and possessions which the lady-boys specialize in and, in my opinion, make up a large amount of their income. Often, the drunk post teens would tell stories of how they can't remember how they lost their keys, money, wallet etc... The Thai that work on the beach are a twisted bunch as well and they do things that I wouldn't expect of normal Thai people such as be dangerously confrontational with some cases of two Brits getting smashed and cut up by beer bottles by twelve Thai or of a westerner working for a tour boat company who was doing so well for the business that the jealous Thai competition cut the rope that anchors the westerners tour boat and let it sail off into the night and off to sea. These Thai are different and sometimes they do bad things possibly because they see us living a life they can't have and some of us treating them in a way that is more like slavery than like service. Though the working staff do seem to suffer its the beach itself that suffer worst of all.

By morning, there would be an offensive amount of garbage on the beach which the staff of the bars would clean - scouring cigarette butts with rakes and picking up every bottle and lost sandal left behind in the drinking frenzy. By three pm the next day, the time I would eventually wake up and get my first meal, the beach would have returned to its spotless splendid cleanliness. That was until the big night.

I would usually wake around noon though I fell asleep around 7am. The heat of the noon day sun turned my bungalow into the inside of an electric stove coil and the pool of sweat mixed with the empty feeling in my stomach forced me to get out of bed and into the nearest restaurant. That morning of the Full Moon, the streets of Haad Rin were filled to capacity with the party-goers from the Ko Samui and the other parts of my island. The beach and restaurants give no rest to the wicked as the bucket prices double and the music stages set up for more clubs than usual on the beach and little space for the big space dancer. This is still low season but there is still a huge number of people on the beach - enough for there to lose your friends in the mess. I lost mine bit found some others. To be honest, the music wasn't;t as good as the nights leading up to the big Full Moon Party so I wasn't in full gear for the night but nonetheless, the party was fantastic and something that shouldn't be missed when coming to Thailand. Lights flash, people dance barefoot in the sand and a good time is had by all. This Full Moon was complimented by many wearing read and white to celebrate a Canada Day (Canada's day of Confederation) that can only be compared to the party that explodes from downtown Ottawa. The bodies of the drunk lay in their standard face down in the sand formation but in greater numbers. The music played longer than usual - until 10am then to the after party which went on for the rest of the day. The madness of the night was more than this old body could handle and I headed to bed early (ie 8am) as my bones were feeling the crush of dancing for days prior and for the litres of pure M-150 I drank to keep me awake. The Full Moon is a party of well deserved reputation.

I stayed on Koh Pha Ngan for three extra days though most left in a typical exodus. It was hard to go but my passport was ready days ago and Cambodia and Vietnam wait for me. I took a similar tour back with Yifat, an Israeli girl who kept me company while I was burned out from days of excess. I am now in Bangkok and I have discovered some interesting things. First of all, the visa for Laos is no longer available for 15 days and Canadians pay the most of any country for the available 30 day visa. This means that I will get my Cambodian visa here, my Vietnam visa in Cambodia and then I will have to decide if I should re-enter Cambodia or go to Laos - both choices for visas are very expensive. I sit in Bangkok now and then off to see Angkor Wat but there is a scam waiting for those taking the bus. This letter is too long as it is so I'll write about it later.

Be Well





Oren Jalon
World Traveller

This message is brought to you by all the enormous number sandals that are lost by drunk people dancing barefoot in the sand.