Conny booked tickets for our onward travel to Koh Samui. She enlightened me as to the fact that the journey time would be 4, maybe 5 hours. She scoffed when I told her it was more like 12 in the things I had read on the interweb. So at 7.30 am we awaited our minivan pickup. Squeezed in with the others and packed t the rafters we headed to the mainland first via bridge then car ferry. This is where stuff starts to get strange. You see, travelling as a tourist here means, in general you are heavily reliant upon travel agents, now these want to sell you everything from scuba trips and day tours to taxi rides at your next destination or even accommodation. Of course, they don’t tell you but they are doing it at a premium and for a slice of the action, which is fair enough, everybody has to make a living. It is an odd place to be, the punter, the lost at land traveller trying to navigate a culture in which one cannot understand the alphabet, let alone the language. On one hand, essentially you have people shepherding you from one place to another, which is quite good, however the problem is there isn’t really and awful lot of information exchange regarding the finer points of the trip. For example, you ask the person with whom you book your original trip, they will say, with a smile and a happily dismissive wave of the hand “Yes, we pick you up, take you to bus then to ferry and Koh Samui”. Sounds simple doesn’t it? Well truth is they take you to a town. Where you go to another travel agent. She checks your ticket and gives you a sticker on your chest. If you are lucky it will have your destination clearly scrawled upon it. Then you are told to wait, and that you have time to buy some food or coffee before you depart, handily served in the same shop. Then your next van arrives. You are shoved and shouted, admittedly not aggressively, but also not exactly clear to the untrained ear. The result is somewhat confused western folk not knowing if they are coming or going, being steered like a flock of sheep into their appropriate van. A van which may take you for three hours until your next change on the other side of the country. Or as it did this time, three minutes, where we went to a different “travel agent”/cafe, where we informed we must all get off the van(luggage and all), sign in, get fresh stickers and that we had just enough time to purchase some food or a beverage. Then somewhat abruptly, we were all told we had to get on to the next van. When I say next van, I mean the exact same van that we had all just climbed off, that had been parked a whole 3 metres from where we sat, the entire time we sat there. So…onwards, to the next town, Lord knows where, and another cafe or “travel agency”. Again, dismount, change stickers, and individually register with the agent in your respective travel groups, one by one. The lady continues to tell us that we will need a taxi at Koh Samui, and to be fair we are wise to her game, but she tells us that the onward ferry we want is actually best taken from the other side of the island. So we were already thinking we’d stay somewhere near to there. Then she informs us that the taxi on the other end will cost x amount and take x amount of time, whereas she will organise a van for a similar x amount but it will be much more efficient and take us to our door. We concur that this would be a good idea and go ahead with the purchase. Knowing that she just wanted to sell us something but still, if it worked out in our favour, what’s the harm? We get on to the next bus and head to the ferry port, where we are dumped, told to go in a room. The boat is late, the whities amongst the crowd look tense, nervous, confused. Amongst the Thais, not an eyelid is batted. Trying to discern exactly what is happening is not easy, but Conny and I manage to figure out that our boat is on the dock and we can go and get on. Long story short, at 8pm we arrive at Koh Samui, then our van driver doesn’t know where the hotel is so he drops us off at one side of a market and says “go that way” and points at an alley.

The room at Castaways in Bophut was actually excellent. The owner wanted 800 or something Baht for a room with AC, but we just wanted a fan, so he showed us to a room for 650 Baht per night. It was clean, had a good bathroom, and strangely an AC unit. Better still, they had free chili and tacos in honour of Cinco de Mayo. Bonus. I would highly recommend anyone going to Koh Samui to go there, although I might not recommend Koh Samui itself. We did what you do on Koh Samui. Got a scooter, saw a Big Buddha. Had a mosey around the island. There’s nothing much of wonderous excitement to behold. Some nice beaches, a lot of very touristy pap. We went to one swanky beach bar as a treat, sat down and got the uno cards out as we waited for a waiter (of which there were many) to bring us a menu. We waited, and we watched as other guests did the same…only they got menus, and smiles and when they started to get drinks I began to see this as a test. How long before we could get served without saying something. Coming from the bar trade I tend to be of the belief that if the staff suck that much balls that they can’t see fit to serve us, they aren’t getting my money. Now, I get that I could have spoken up at any point, but really, it was mind blowing to see. About 40 minutes later, and about 5 tables served (and may I add served slowly) before us. We packed the uno away and went to the next place for dinner. A mind fuckingly expensive dinner relatively, but given what we had just saved on the cocktails, I wasn’t too bothered when the bill included an added service charge and a tax that wasn’t on the menu. Fuck it. At least they served us. It is odd to be in the expat haven kind of areas. It is something I grew accustomed to in Nice, but it is also something that pissed me right off about Nice. The Europeans and Americans complaining how shit the locals and their ways are, mean while they live there, refuse to speak the language and basically continue their former existence in the sun. If it’s that shit, don’t fucking move there, and if you do learn the language and stop moaning. It should also be noted that they do this normally while boasting on facebook or telling the same stories in the same pubs to the same expats of how they are able to “live the dream” in paradise and complaining about those damn immigrants back home who refuse to integrate.

I have lost track here somewhere…now where was I? Oh I remember, the expats. Safe to say, it was ok on Samui, but we were happy to move on to the next island. Oh, and remember that lady who told us to go to the other side of the island and such. Fucking liar. The boat went from where we landed. The taxi was next to nothing, and we even got it thrown in with our onward ticket. Mother fuckers. We had decided, here on out, whatever the agents want to sell us, no matter how good it seems, is not necessary.

Koh Tao is much more our scene. Much smaller, we stayed at the bottom end, a little village, with plenty of nice food available, a bar or two if we needed and the hostel the Moov Inn. The hostel itself a bit ramshackle, but the showers were clean and the beds cheap.

In our quest for some adventure, Conny and I decided this time we would opt for dorm sleeping. Save some money, and hopefully find it easier to meet folk. Erm, that didn’t work. Night one was plagued by a techno loving German who has never heard of earphones and a Chinese lady who loved the TV on her phone, again, without earphones, but this time also with a soundtrack of chuckles and even a skype call back home to China, at fucking midnight.

I know I’m a grumpy old man and all but fuck me sideways, these youngsters have no idea of common decency. Plus, they didn’t get out of bed before 2 pm. The best thing about the place was Coco. She was the hostess with the mostess. Originally from Poland, she has travelled a bit, and been at that hostel for two years. A lover of the body suit, including one that she had bought and was unsure if she would fit, Conny and I were obliged to help see how one looked, as it had come in a little more petite and a lot more sheer than she had expected when she ordered it online. She did indeed fit in it. It was nothing short of an eye opener to see such a lovely young thing squeeze in to such a tiny little thing, she did however have to cover up the bits as it was super see through. Disclaimer, I only took a peak when I had gotten the OK from Conny that all lady parts were covered. Hard as it is to believe, I am somewhat the gentleman.

For Coco, the important thing in a hostel is to make a nice feeling. She welcomed us, chatted warmly and was not short of helpful hints or a smile, even when she had just heard some devastating news about the death of a friend on the island. We rented a bike from them and they said up front that they are fair if there is a bit of a scratch or damage, no worries, things happen, it’s only if something silly happens there will be an issue. Unlike others they wouldn’t take our passport as deposit either, which for a traveller is definitely a worry when renting a bike. Coco really was the difference between making this a bog standard bed for the night and somewhere to go to.

Koh Tao

is known for its diving. Unfortunately given my ears hadn’t recovered from our discovery dive in Koh Lipe, I wasn’t able to go diving further. Doubly annoying was the abundance of whale sharks in the area at the time. One chap in the hostel had seen at least one a day all week and on his last dive encountered three at once. I would fucking love to see one of these magnificent creatures. Up to 15 metres of elegant cryll eating wonder gliding through the depths. That said we did go snorkelling. The reefs are magnificent. I don’t have much to compare it to, but it was beautiful. Full of colour and life. From the thousands of fish, nonchalently swimming just past your fingers to the giant golden coral orbs that appear to be bedecked with jewells of ruby, emerald and azure. The clams in their brilliance opening and closing as you wave by. Hoards of angel fish and brightly coloured goofy looking things, nipping at he coral giving exactly zero fucks about sharing their domain with us. There was one bay with a cliff like drop off into the deep blue, where I was hoping to see the silhouette of a big shark or something. Alas no big ones but we did see a shark, a tiddler really, but a shark all the same.

It does have its more backpacker and young party traveller kind of areas on Koh Tao, but really that wasn’t our thing. The beaches, as most have been are great sunset spots though.

Luckily for us, it was full moon time. This meant that the island would become a lot quieter a couple of days before and a couple after as the revellers would migrate to the neighbouring island of Koh Phangan. Conny and I, old and grumpy as we are, were not among them.

The day before we left, we were headed out to breakfast. I heard someone say something in German, then Conny saying “No way…”. I thought “oh a friend of Conny’s…no fucking way” as it dawned on me that this was not a friend of Conny’s, but a friend of ours, Elisabeth. She lived and worked in Gstaad and shared an employer with Conny and I. We sat down to breakfast then, from the back of the restaurant comes another face I remember, another former colleague. Christophe works alongside Elisabeth and as such also for our former employer. It was a little odd seeing them out of context but a real pleasure to see them both, even if Christophe didn’t recognise me, to be fair, compared to my working days, I have let myself go a bit (my former employer recently saw me and said “its not that your beard is long, or big that’s the problem David, it’s that it’s a bloody ISIS beard”) so I am somewhat in disguise. But as ever in these situations surprise hellos are always welcome and it’s always nice to see a familiar face. They however were headed to the full moon party on Koh Phangan, so we bid them adieu, and following Coco’s advice we had booked on to the over night boat the next evening.

Quite the experience, a big cargo ferry, with a large bunkhouse at the back, we are assigned beds and off we go. No fuss, no frills, nothing but the smell of engine grease and a blanket, but it was suitably pleasant. Upon disembarkation, the usual shenanigans ensue of people herding us and other tourists around. The one next to us on the bus has a French accent, turns out she is from the same town as where my parents live. Small world eh. 8 hours later, upon getting to a station called Bangkok, we are told that this is it and that there is a bus here to get to Bangkok, we climb down once more puzzled but armed with previous in this regard. We decide a taxi is the safest option and get to our next hostel. This time it is pod sleeping in the Bunny Burrow. It is from here that I am currently writing. To be honest, we wanted a double room but it sold out as we tried to book. The hostel is basic, but really modern. The showers are nice as are the loos, the beds not luxurious but clean, tidy and comfy, plus we had zero Chinese TV watchers.

Bangkok, I had assumed, would be dirty. I expected fully bonkers roads jam packed with crazy traffic. It is a bit of both, but nowhere near to the extent that KL was, it surprised me somewhat. We took a day or two moseying around. The temples are gorgeously ornate affairs. I wasn’t really expecting to see, as I went into the hall of the Reclining Buddha (a 46 metre long gold statue of Buddha lying down, evidently), the walls were one single giant artwork. Intricately painted, sometimes replicated patterns but interwoven with individual scenes. It looked at first like very intricate wallpaper, but opun close inspection you see that it was hand painted. The burial towers of the former kings are stunning in their tile work. To cap it off, we had a foot massage there. The massage is done by people from the nearby school of Thai massage. As I mentioned before, I love me some Thai massage. This was doubly awesome as we were brought in from the sweltering heat to an air conditioned room, with the smell of tiger balm on the air. It’s a smell that takes me back to my younger years, the smell of linament before a running race, or the deep heat in the changing rooms at Shotfields before a football game or, best of all, the smell of Vicks vaporub under Christmas tree lights (I love that so much I have been known to apply a little, cold or no, if I have stumbled upon it in someone’s bathroom or such).

We cruised up and down the river on the ferry. We walked along the flower, veg and spice markets. Ate street food in China town. It really is a nice place. Added bonus was Poe. An old school friend of mine that I haven’t seen for 12 years. To be fair Poe doesn’t change. He’s an oddball in an endearing way, much like myself I hope. Is exactly who he wants to be and good on him for it. We met him and a group of his old friends in a strange little bar called Pizzicato. Poe has lived in Thailand for a long time but recently moved back to the UK, and in essence this was a reunion kind of send off all at once for him and some his older Thai friends that he hasn’t seen in a while. To be honest, he was late, by a couple of hours. We weren’t, so we sat down and waited. Turns out the girl behind us was also waiting so we got to chatting, Then a couple more folk showed up, and basically last of all came Poe. I’d forgot he was so fucking tall when I went to give him a hug and nearly broke my own neck. The good thing was, this was not one of those chats of what we’ve been doing and such. I mentioned before those things tend to piss me off. It was more lets just chat shit. Talk about the music (which in that bar was fucking immense) or football or what a shithole we came from (I am split upon my feelings for Leek, equal parts ace/shithole). He bust out the brandy and he, Conny and the Thai folk set about the serious business of libation. Two and a bit bottles later, Conny was off chatting up the boys at the other end of the bar, while I was chatting to a girl about her current lesbianism, but she has doubts it will last as she actually loves a boy. There was lots of beverage, a wicked soundtrack and plenty of laughs to make for a great night. As we walk out of the door and the bar owner hails us a cab, two cars smash into each other across the road, and we are shuffled into the car and head home.

Today we are bound for Chang Mai. Tickets are booked on the night train and a double room is booked at our next hostel, I’ll let you know what happens when it’s happened!