Marky Mark (aka Josh) and I decided that this was to be our final party on Thailand's southern islands, which had, in spite of their paradise beaches, become slightly repetitive in their offerings, and immediately bought tickets to Chiang Mai where we hoped to see a different side to Thailand. Kaleem and Seapa opted for less travelling and more beaches and although they were not entirely happy to be deprived of their parent figures it was agreed that it was better for us all to get what we wanted out of the last week.

With our plans booked and paid for all that was left was to hit the full moon party hard. There were lots of warnings about possessions being stolen and as my camera had chosen this moment to stop functioning altogether I decided to leave it in the hostel and hope for the best - theft insurance. After kitting ourselves out in our tie dyed tshirts, luminous body paint and wooden bead necklaces (when in Rome...) we made our way to the beach, stopping on the way so that the local police could give us a little cuddle.

The easiest way to describe the party is a festival on a beach. Stalls selling buckets scream at passers by - each with their own innovative sales pitch ("Fuck Bucket" was my favourite) while the bars blast music out to sea. Everywhere thousands of people dance, drink, shout, fall over, sleep. As usual we befriended people by making fools of ourselves (pretending to be on drugs, challenging the most hardcore ravers to dance-offs, etc) and danced the night away in beer fuelled bliss. We bumped into a few familiar faces from Phi Phi and Ko Tao including Tim who, in fact, we had seen in a restaurant within five minutes of arriving (I don't know how he does it) and had some funny drunken reunions.

But beer and buckets can only take you so far and by 5am, like many others, we were feeling fatigued and in need of a lift. At the far end of the beach, where it was more quiet and the sand was littered with bodies (lying down for one reason or another, ahem) we found what we needed. Food.

We all know that drunk people are not the most discerning culinary enthusiasts - as far as I'm concerned a KFC at 3am takes some beating. However, on this occasion we found something that even the Colonel himself could not have outdone. A huge fish straight off a barbeque at 5am IS the most delicious thing ever. Revitalised by this wonderful, and slightly surreal, food, we headed back into the heart of the party and didn't stop dancing until well after the sun had come up.

As it rose, the sleeping masses rose like zombies from the sand and in the light of day the glowing wristbands and bodypaint (worn by blinking, squinting wrecks whose faces expressed something in between anger and confusion) became amusingly out of place. We eventually headed back to our bamboo youth centre and managed three hours of sleep before being woken up by the usual communal commotion.

After a day of recovery, playing Call of Duty on the Wii and looking around the shops, we boarded the ferry back to the mainland and bid a hurried farewell to Seapa and Kaleem as we were gestured immediately onto a coach continuing our journey. This time heading north.

written by  steve_stamp on May 12, 2009 from Ko Phangan, Thailand
from the travel blog: The art of being lost
tagged Bamboo, FullMoonParty and YouthCentre
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We had stopped at a shop along the way and in the excitement I had bought not only a cap with flaps but a camoflage t-shirt. I was ready for the jungle! Except I wasn't. Before long we were trekking through woody jungle, climbing over fallen trees and streams as required and even being attacked by a swarm of MASSIVE wasps which stung me three times! This was not what the pictures on the leaflet looked like! I thought we would be happily marching along a nice wide and well trodden path to a big rushing waterfall where we would all smile and splash around and take photos. Well, actually that came later.

We arrived at our camp tired and with burning, stabbing pains from bleeding wasp stings and were shown a waterfall which would be our shower. This was a lot of fun, the strong current taking one particularly adventurous northern lad on an inadvertent tour downstream while we all looked like a bunch of shivering twats auditioning for a Timotei advert. That night we were cooked a delicious feast of local food before sinking a Changs around the campfire and talking about the days adventures.

Non stop rain throughout the night meant that day two was inevitably going to be a challenge, particularly for those who had not invested in appropriate footwear. Obviously I had been organised enough to buy a nice sturdy pair of walking boots back in England; However, upon packing I realised there was no room for them in my bag and so it was that while my boots sat neglected in the quiet town of Lewes, I found myself scrambling up muddy banks in the Thai jungle - treading paths which due to the unfalteringly precipitous climate had become more like streams - in my trusty Converse All Stars.

The warm rain fell all morning and created a wet, misty jungle which was even more exciting and visually impressive than the day before. I was really enjoying the walk although it was not easy. We would trudge high into the hills and then skid back down again on the slippery paths. The hardest part was staying on your feet and despite my complete lack of grip I was one of the few who managed to avoid spectacular and hilarious slides down the hillsides. We left a trail of uprooted trees and there were skidmarks all round by the time we made it to our camp. We were to stay with a very friendly and sociable hill tribe, who I really enjoyed meeting.

I can not create an account of this trek withoutmentioning our two guides - a pair of brothers who were both (bizarrely) called Noi. Although I believe one was spelt Noy and had a slightly different intonation that only Thai people can hear. The eldest of the pair, Noy, was (and I will be careful to use politically correct language here in order to preserve my job) a midget (I lied) who had a very limited grasp of English but a great sense of humour. He frequently challenged the more boisterous members of the group to Mai Thai fights and encouraged drinking and smoking by setting an impressive example. He came to be known as Rambo and will probably be the part of the trip that most people will look back upon with the most fondness. The younger (but slightly less vertically challenged) Noi spoke excellent English, was well informed and spoke to me at length about his life in Chiang Mai and the positive impacts which he felt the tourist industry could bring to these remote mountain areas.

The final day was, on paper, to be the most exciting although I had a feeling that elephant trekking and bamboo rafting would be a bit of an anti-climax after such an amazing experience clambering through the jungle. It was actually better than I had imagined - our small circuit gave us enough time on the enourmous banana guzzling elephant and I was even afforded the privelage of climbing out of the litle seat on it's back and sitting on his rough prickly neck. Our guide was a twenty-four year old elephant trekking veteran andtook us swerving off away from the others for some off road Jungle Book style trampling. I sang the song accoringly. After 20 minutes , six bags of bananas and a short but worrying dip in the river, we were helped off and driven down to the bamboo rafts.

The group was divided into threes and fours and, each with their own captain, we raced down the river which after all the rain was high and fast enough to warrant life jackets. We were given a long pieve of bamboo which I assumed was to steer the boat and attack the other rafts - it was a good laugh. We were driven back to the hotel soggy and in need of a decent bed. Ot felt like we'd been gone a week and I found myself referring to the hostel as home- which freaked me out.

We'd met a couple during the trek (both attractive girls, much to the enjoyment of the northern lads although I had barely noticed) and when we got back we decided to visit the reggae bars one last time. We left the next day, exchanging sad farewells with the girls while we left Tim sleeping. We were actually glad to be leaving Tim who, after almost 5 days, was beginning to grate. On the plus side we did have a lot of fun mocking his white linen trousers and I can now do a very convincing impression of a socially ignorant Dutch guy.

We passed as uneventful a night as you can hope to have in Bangkok, this time staying on Koh San Road. It was better than where we had stayed before- we had a pool on our roof and I was given the opportunity to have dreadlock hair extensions - but I maintain is a charmless city and a mecca only to prostitutes and perverts. The next day we escaped to Sydney.

written by  steve_stamp on May 31, 2009 from Chiang Mai, Thailand
from the travel blog: The art of being lost
tagged Elephants, Jungle, Bamboo and Wasps
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