Day 321 - Ko Pha Ngan

Ko Pha Ngan is probably the most revered of all the thai islands. Its small enough to have a single road running around its perimetre, its got great beaches and plenty of snorkelling sights, and its overrun with party animals every month, flocking here from all over the world to celebrate the Full Moon Party. How could it go so wrong?



So, after still-drunkenly leaving Ko Samui, we have what can only be described as one of the most amusing and soul-destroying short-journies of our lives. All 4 of us are hungover (I've hardley slept and still have redbull coursing through my veins) when we get picked up by a truck driver with a deathwish. Within 30 seconds of leaving the hotel, he's driven so fast around a corner that Tom's backpack flies 5 metres into the air and slams down on the road in front of the oncoming traffic. We reload it onto the roof, then we're off again at 90mph along dust tracks, sat unprotected in the back of this guys pickup truck. There's 10 of us crammed in. Sam's fearing for her life, banging on the driver's rear window to tell him to slow down. he doesn't. Before long, Sam's halfway between crying and being sick, so we stop the truck and get out.

demanding our ticket from the truck driver, who's promising to go slower now, sam's had enough, so we hop in a cab and take a leisurely journey to the port. Much nicer. That is until, after checking in to the port ready for our ferry ride to Ko Pha Ngan, we're told that we're at the wrong port. OUR ferry is about a mile down the road. We're flipping out. we've missed the ferry by 5 minutes and probably lost our 10quid ticket price. Sam's nearly crying again. I'm shouting for her to calm down. We wait 10 minutes for a cab, then travel 2 minutes down the road where our ferry is sat in the dock *waiting* for us to arrive.

Our mental truck driver is shouting at us to hurry, whilst we're lugging our massive bags onto our backs and walking down the wooden gangway. Its shameful. An entire open-topped ferry of people are staring at us - they've been forced to sweat it out in the blazing sun for 20minutes waiting for us to arrive. Its truly the walk of shame. But we make it on the ferry, which choppily crosses the straight in an hour and drops us off on the beachless shore of Haad Rin, party town on Ko Pha Ngan. Sam makes an immediate run for the toilet, projectile vomits and poisonously returns and sits in the shade, while Tom and I investigate the missing ferry pickup we were expecting. But soon enough, we're in a cab to our hotel (its just down the road, but the heats insane) and checking in.



And here's where the fun starts. Ping pong - the hotel's resident bar manager - welcomes us, leads me to reception, and offers me whatever drugs I want on the way. I nervously decline (the penalties for buying drugs in thailand are enough to scare the crap out of anyone, especially when he's brazen about it). We're then shown around - the common area is a huge expanse of wooden floorboards covered in cushions and adorned with about 30 shirtless beach bums laughing and drinking. The site has an internet cafe, well-stocked bar, a nice, albeit narrow, beach and a lush swimming pool - plenty deep enough and big enough for me to dive around like an idiot for days without disturbing the peace. And in case a swimming pool wasnt quite enough, the place is consumed in flesh - hot boys and girls, lounging around in barely enough clothes to be considered decent, showing off their buff bodies and trim stomachs. Its a bit grim, but kinda pretty at the same time. And since its so bloody hot, i grab my towel and spend the next 3 hours with Tom in the pool, chatting to some of the more interesting members of the congregation of young people.



An that's where the fun stops for me. That evening takes ages to arrive, and whenit does we're too tired to attend the hotel-hosted pool party. So after watching a DVD instead, I nip to the bar to see how things are going down and ITS HIDEOUS. Its actually like a Club 18-30s holiday - shed loads of completely wasted 20-year-olds dancing like monkeys, bumping into me, spitting on the floor. Girls with their tops off shaking their tits around while boys stare at their chests like they've never seen a pair before (I caught you Tom). People in the pool, wasted, holding their pint glasses above their heads so not to spill anything. Drunk girls in bikinis spiralling around and being pushed into the pool by equally wasted boys. I stayed for about 3 minutes. It was grim. Although I kinda wanted to stay just for the sights.

And in the morning, my beloved Pool Of Dreams was closed - for cleaning. A process which ultimtely took 3 whole days. A team of 6 thai guys with sieves crouch beside the pool sieving up the most revolting mixture of frothing beer, vomit and, i'm sure, other bodily emissions. The party went on til 6am, and is known for being heinously debaucherous. Great. No diving for me today.



So Sam, Eve and I head into town where we wander the single main high-street crowded with jewellery shops, 7-11 stores and swimwear shops. Within 10 minutes we arrive at the famous Sunrise Beach, site of the upcoming Full Moon Party, and we spend a couple of hours wandering the wide and lush beach, tapping our toes to the oversized sound-systems adorning each and every bar on the beachfront and dipping our feet in the cool water to cool off. The beach is overrun with the same crowds as the hotel - buff and trim 18-30s flexing their muscles during a game of volleyball or tanning their already stupidly dark skin further. Eve and I feel like the rank lard-arses of the beach, covering our shamefully un-toned stomachs and trying not to make too much eye-contact with the prettiest of the herds.



And its now that things go a bit messy for me. Walking along the beach heading home, a sudden shoot of headache cracks through my skull. Followed by a hint of shivering. Within 20 minutes I'm in bed, air-con cranked down to its lowest setting (18 degrees), wrapped in 3 towelling blankets to soak up the sweat. An hour later, I'm unable to sleep from the fever and moaning to myself constantly. Its tonsilitus - confirmed the next day when I sum up all the strength I have to get a cab to the island's doctor and recieve not just a course of anti-biotics, but my first ever INJECTION IN MY ARSE! (come on guys, no jokes please). Much to Sam's amusement, I'm laid out on a doctor's bed, white never-seen-the-light-of-day bum cheeks shining in the waiting room while a tiny nurse pokes my fleshy rear as deep as she can go, walks off with the needle still poking out, waggling with every move I make, and eventually injects the good stuff 5 minutes later and charges me 30 quid for the pleasure.

It was supposed to sort me out properly. But it didn't. The next morning, the holy day which marks the start of the Full Moon Party, I am still sick as a dog. The pool is still being seived. The weather's kinda rubbish, but i don't care because I still want to spend my life in bed. I'm devastated. Its looks like I'll miss the party after all. The only energy I have I waste on buying some water to drink. Ko Pha Ngan isn't working out as I had hoped. And our shitty bedroom has hardly any light and no TV, so I'm bored as well as miserable and lonely. And we were so excited about coming here and its so grim now. So I sit it out - reading my book, watching the walls, listening to the same music I've listened to for the last 10 months, and wishing I was feeling just slightly well enough to leave this pit of a room. But I can't.

And so I prepare to miss out on the Full Moon Party - its probably gonna be hideous anyway. Or will I....

Day 193 - my tonsilitus

How sick am I?



So, its saturday. I still need a job. what do I do? I GO TO THE BEACH, of course. yep, every saturday the hostel puts on a 'trip' down to Coogee Beach (not as big as bondi, but a bit more personal), where they buy as many budget sausages and burgers as they can and make use of the open-air free BBQ stands next to the beach. Its great. Its free, its hot and there's a shed load of fun people. No complaints.





The day progressed almost without incident. Unfortunately, whilst playing frisbee with a swedish dude, he managed to hit some guy in the face with the frisbee. Now, any other day of the year, the guy would have been a bit annoyed and shouted at us for playing on the pavement, but not today. Oh no. Instead, his 3 female friends started howling in shock and he's bent over almost to the floor clutching his nose. I run over, apologising (I didn't even throw the damn frisbee), to be told that he has (just yesterday) had NOSE SURGERY. And right they were - his nose is still bandaged up and he's in a severe amount of pain. I apologise again, run back to the BBQ to grab some serviettes to mop up the blood and run back, to find that he's "ok" although clearly in shock. I love how this stuff only ever happens to me. Swedish dude laughs it off and we decide to stop playing.





Much later Suzi and Minnie turn up, so when everyone else is going back to the hostel I decide to join them for a drink. And this is where is started. We're sat eating fish and chips, in the scorching 5pm sunshine, and I'm shivering like its a winter day. Suzi and Minnie are convinced - its sunstroke. I'm arguing that its not, but they know the signs and they're pretty convincing. I down 2 pints of water, but its making the shivering worse. I'm giddy. I have been drinking all day (of course I have), but its not that.



So, I make my excuses and head off towards home. On the bus I can't read my book or listen to my iPod - everything is weird. Someone asks if I'm ok, and I just shrug them off. My teeth are chattering and I'm delirious. And the bus journey is dragging on towards 35 minutes when I finally get off and trot to the hostel. I see Sam and Jason in reception, about to go out for some drinks in town, and explain that I'm proper ill, so they point me towards my bed and tell me they'll see me later. And I jump into bed, wrapping up nice and warm.

It seems I would be spending the next 4 days in my bed. This wasn't sunstroke. This was acute tonsilitus. I could go on for ages about how awful the next 36 hours were for me. But we've all been ill. I had those nightmares where you're tiny and the bed is massive, like an ocean, and you're being crushed by the weight of the duvet. I had this weird recurring thing where I was trying to find a skyscraper in the city. I could hear myself mumbling and making noises, in an 8-bed dorm, but couldn't control them.

And then Sam came home. drunk. and flipping out. She's throwing wet towels on me in my delirium. Apparently I'm burning up (my bed sheets are soaked with sweat, but I'm still shivering like mad). She's never felt a temperature like this. She's trying to phone an ambulance, but I'm telling her to wait til morning. Carmen is in the kitchen looking for phone numbers of call-out-doctors. The whole dorm is awake, and I'm so out-of-it all I can say is "please go to bed" over and over again.

She does. And I have a hideous night's sleep. I start vomiting at 4am. Then again at 8am (this time pure paracetamol and water - its still fizzing when it comes out). And then back to the nightmares. Its rubbish.



Sam's up early to reapply wet towels to my sweating skin and by midday she's got me up, dressed me and is bundling me into a cab to the doctors surgery (literally 3 blocks away). A 20 minute wait and 30 quid later I have a prescription for penicillin and a diagnosis of acute tonsilitus (there's a lot going around, apparently).



Not much to report from the next 48 hours. I spent the lot in bed. Too weak to leave the hostel. A trip to the supermarket nearly kills me, and drinking hot sweet tea in the tv room is my only respite from the suffocation of my 8-bed dorm room. But 48 hours pass, and the antibiotics kick in. And before long, I'm still whinging but feeling much better. Wednesday evening and we all get invited over to Ricky and Tracy's flat to watch some teen flick about a skater-girl who becomes a gynamstics star, and despite still being a little contagious, we cram 8 of us into a tiny living room and laugh solidly for 4 hours. i even manage to eat my first solids in 3 days in the form of some McDonalds chicken nuggets.

Sam and I have kinda fallen on our feet when it comes to friends in Sydney. There's a group of 8 kids who've been travelling together for ages, and we've all become mates at the same time. They're pretty special, and good fun to be around, so we're hanging out with them quite a bit. Its nice to have some solid friends, rather than the continual transit friendships that get made so easily. There's something more secure about these guys - they're here to stay. Its good.

Anyway, its Thursday, and I'm alive again. Everything's normal. The antibiotics are stong and make me go dizzy for about 10 minutes after taking them. but aside from that, I'm out and about, buying christmas presents (yeah, like I'm rich) from the market and cooking proper food for the first time in days. I'm not drinking a drop, but agree to go out with Sam tonight to Indie night (again!). She's been texting Rachael (one of her ex-colleague's best friends) who's just moved here and wants to go out tonight. And before long I'm rounding up dave, tom (from brasil) and jason and they're coming with us too. Before I know it, I'm drinking beer, getting drunk, destroying the healing effect of my antibiotics but having a lot of fun. And to cap it all, Dave is the perfect indie poser, pouting at the camera at every oppurtunity. sick.