Koh Chang : Thailand : Travel
I didn’t really know what to expect from my first trip to Thailand. At the time I was single & no boyfriend to holiday with. All the girl friends I’d normally go with were all besotted and madly in love at this stage, so I had a choice; no holiday or to holiday alone. Hmmmmn, solo trip it was then!! I aged my mum by about 10 years and gave her a near on panic attack by telling her not only was I going on my first ever holiday on my own, but that the destination was to be Thailand. “But, but, but, you could get lost, raped, kidnapped and end up in a sex traffic gang, or in a Thai prison once someone plots to export drugs by stuffing them in your backpack!!!!”
After hearing it all, headstrong daughter me went and booked my flights and my first 2 nights in Bangkok, and was to wing it from there for the rest of the trip.
Checking the weather forecast whilst in Bangkok, and my intentions of heading down south flattened by thunderstorms, I booked the next coach to Koh Chang where the sun was shining hard. Nervously I got off the ferry the other side, absolutely no idea where I was heading, so jumped off the pick up when the fellow looking traveller types got off. Now, the thing with Koh Chang is that you are not able to pre-book a bungalow (beach hut) before you arrive on the island. Having arrived late afternoon, most were already full by the time I got there. Getting my sweat on whilst traipsing around from site to site with my oversized backpack, I managed to find one over priced bungalow about a 10 minute walk from the beach. Not quite what I had in mind. So, my revised plan was to spend one night there, get up first thing in the morning, and change bungalows to a cute little on located directly on the pure white sand. Sorted.
Yeah, well that was the plan pre Sang Som.
So, having dumped my bag and getting some much needed food, I headed back to my bungalow with a deserved Chang beer. I get stopped on the way by 2 Norwegian guys staying in the bungalow next to mine, asking me if I was going to the beach party later. No idea of what party they were talking, there seemed only one reply – “of course!”. “Cool, do you want to join us for a beer before we go?” “Sure!” And master plan of move bungalow from boring inland location to the gorgeous sandy beach starts to crash and burn. After loosing count of the amount of Chang consumed, we head to the beach party where bucket (yes BUCKET) after bucket of Sang Som & Red Bull are swiftly ordered and drank and the night is danced away until the early hours. You really haven’t partied until you’ve spent the night dancing on the beach, under the stars in bear feet and little more than your bikini with the drinks flowing freely and the music turned up LOUD…
The end of the night draws in and we head stumble back. I crash on the bed wearing the same clothes and I’m a goner.
As the sun starts to poke it’s head up, the morning is upon me. Oooooooooooooooh fuck. Fuck fuck FUCK. My head is literally about to implode. I am going to die. No really, I’m about to die. Want to or not, I physically cannot move. This somewhat raises a problem when you’re due to be kicked out for check out in less than an hour. Fuck. NEED water. I try to raise my head and fail utterly and miserably. Fuck. I’m at the bottom of the resort and the reception has very inconsiderately located itself right at the top on the road front. I may as well just die now and end my super dehydrated, unimaginably hot, beyond hungover existence.
Now, don’t ask me how, but 11.55am, just 5 minutes before I’m due to leave, I muster JUST enough movement to scrap myself off the bed, don sunglasses in a pathetic attempt to retain some form of dignity, pull some foreign currency form my purse and drag my sorry derrière to reception. I literally crawl my way there. I slam my 500 baht on the desk and manage “just one more night, pleeeease”. Before I take my sorry state back to bed, down as much water my stomach can physically contain, and switch on the rickety, no way would it pass any UK electrical reg’s testing fan, in a lame attempt get me back to some form of human state.
An hour or so later, I manage enough effort to get breakfast lunch, where I loosely begin to feel I’m at least in the human race. Ideal. I’ll take myself to the beach for the rest of the day, and tomorrow I’ll get myself that beach bungalow. Sorted.
Ha, yeah right. I soon learn there’s a party every night on the island. And well, it would be rude not to go for a couple of hours, I am on holiday after all. Four mornings on the trot the exact same excuse for an existence/slam money on reception desk for “one more night” routine continues. By morning 5 I’ve given up. Screw it, I’m going to save myself the agony and I pay for the rest of my stay.
I have honestly NEVER felt as ill/unhuman/UUURRRRRGGHHHHHHH as I felt on those mornings, however I literally had one of, if not THE best holiday I’ve ever had. An epic holiday most certainly deserves an epic boozed up night (or two.. or three…) I’m sure there’s a safety warning in there somewhere, and I’m sure if my mum did find out about my drunken mess(es) she’d have an actual heart attack, but oh, the good times I had I will NEVER forget.
The photos above are mainly of Treehouse at Lonely Beach, which housed my most fond memories, and a place I dearly loved both day and night. This has been THE best bar I have visited anywhere in the world, mainly for it’s wonderful atmosphere and the great people I met there. When I returned in a coupe years later, not only did I find the island had changed (it’s becoming more and more developed), but also that Treehouse is no more. If you visited in it’s prime, I’m sure you’ll understand how saddened I was this place no longer exists. It saddens me that I’ll never be able to return to a place I hold so dear, and I know I’m not the only traveller who’ll miss this place as you can see here!