TRAVEL: SOUTHEAST ASIA 18 - KOH CHANG

03/02/03: Minibus to Koh Chang, stopping off at motorway services along the way, with L, ‘A’ and F – Welsh L & K to follow. Book into the last bungalows in town, eat at Thor’s, and drink on the beach with F.

Koh Chang feels a bit like Au Nang but with less traffic. They are building actual hotels. The intended prey is the 30-something holiday maker away for a few weeks’ peace and quiet. There are ‘travellers’ but not the sort you generally find in Koh Samui or Koh Phangan. They could be taking time out in-between a stint on the nearby islands of Koh Kut and Koh Samet, perhaps after returning from a tour of Vietnam and Cambodia, or maybe fleeing the licentiousness of Pattaya, which is not far away. Or, like us, they’ve pretty much finished with Thailand and fancy a week or so relaxing before exploring Cambodia’s hinterland.

The beach at White Sands is shallow but just large enough for games. An emaciated man practises yoga in a modest hut overlooking the beach. His extensive collection of new-age paraphernalia suggests that he’s put up home here.

L is coming to Koh Chang with us, and ‘A’ and F are coming too. It is said that Welsh L & K and K’s brother, G, plan on doing the same, although nobody has seen them since we arrived in Bangkok more than two days ago. Apparently O might join us but we can't be sure. Koh Chang isn’t far and L has booked us on a minibus to take us there. It’s an early start, but not too early: favourable terms.

Minibuses haven’t featured very heavily on my travels up until now; we’ve used just the one, on our journey from Chumphon to Surat Thani. This is also a good opportunity to bask in the magnitude of Bangkok’s sheer scale. As with any megacity, it takes some time to exit its inner circle, the first hour or so spent negotiating gridlocked traffic under and over the many flyovers that weave in and out of each other. Bangkok’s suburbs give an indication as to the impact of the 1997/98 Asian Currency Crisis. In the run up to this financial calamity, Thailand had been regarded as a Tiger Economy and did much to open itself up to foreign trade. And then things went all wrong and financial institutions crumbled, businesses went bankrupt and people became unemployed. As a testament to this, redundant concrete brackets strike out into the countryside, like giant H’s, intended to support flyovers that will never be built. (Probably irreparable but too expensive to pull down, many of these stanchions remain in place to this day.)

The journey to Koh Chang is long enough to justify a pause at a roadside service station. I like service stations immensely, although it would be mistake to assume that they’re the same the world over. Here they comprise of little more than a petrol garage, a 7-Eleven type establishment and a forecourt with a few stone benches. But it is a service station none the less, and I am glad we stop there.

Our transport bypasses the town of Trat and takes us directly to the ferry terminal. We’ve just missed one, so we’ll have to wait a while; more coffee. As it was when we sailed to Thailand’s southern islands, there appears to be a variety of boats servicing a number of destinations, but we need one to take us to Hat Sai Khao (White Sands Beach) on the island’s west coast. There is no pier there, so the quickest route is by way of a weathered fishing vessel, taking about an hour, capable of anchoring within wading distance of the shore. Fish are caught along the way – big fish – and many of the travellers on board wince at the sight of them being clubbed to death. I wonder to myself whether these same travellers intend on eating any during their stay on Koh Chang.

White Sands Beach is deceptively calm. The beach huts are all booked up, there are hotels shooting up along the main drag, and swanky villas beyond. Struggling to find accommodation, we split up and broaden our search, until L reports back that she’s found somewhere with room to spare. We had it pretty good in Laos, renting reasonable rooms in solidly built hotels, but it looks like we’ll have to slum it again. The hut on offer is not small but the bed looks like it’s about ready for retirement, and I reckon I could punch my fist through the dividing wall without too much bother. We have a front porch but that’s on the verge of collapse, and in front of that there’s a rockery of rubble. It occurs to me, what with the construction going on up the road, that White Sands is probably in the process of gentrifying itself and these dilapidated bungalows have probably been slated for redevelopment in the not too distant future, so why invest in maintaining them?

No matter: L knows a lovely place to eat called Thor’s, which serves the best red curry I’ve had thus far. Thor’s establishment is located at the end of the beach, where the sand segues into rocks, with an unobstructed view west over the Gulf of Thailand. It’s nice to be on the coast again.

04/02/03: Cookies for breakfast with L, F and ‘A’. Hang out on beach. Welsh L & K, G and O arrive. Thor’s again with all; get drunk on buckets.

05/02/03: Very hungover. Cookies with partner, random bar, plus L and ‘A’, to play cards, Thor’s and 15 Palms with all except O and F. Drinks at guesthouse with L and G.

Koh Chang was just what I needed without having realised it. Beaches aren’t my thing generally – I’m too easily bored – but I do like being beside the sea, listening to the water and studying the horizon. And I could put up with our ramshackle hut, to whose inventory I could now add bedbugs, rats, seawater and a large lizard. It took a while to be sure about the bedbugs, but then little red dots started appearing about my person, and on my partner’s too. I dealt with this by covering my bed with a dramatic flourish of DEET, which seemed to put a stop to the little red dots appearing about my person.

The scurrying about in the loft I assumed to be nesting birds, but what birds? Other than the gallinaceous kind, I’d not noticed much in the way of wild fowl anywhere in Thailand, and the birds I had observed were too spindly in leg to produce this racket. Must be rats, so I sprayed more DEET into every point of access anywhere in the room that I could find.

It took a while to discern that what I was washing in was not fresh water but something more brackish. Whether it came directly from the sea or the tide backed up into the water supply I could not tell, but I didn’t at any point taste the salt. What alerted me to its presence was the absence of soapsuds, although it took two showers for me to notice.

And on top of all that was a large lizard, although not as large as the one that S suffered in Haad Rin. It was a welcome addition anyway: a sort of sentry to guard against the insects and rats.

Our first full day on Koh Chang sees the arrival of Welsh L & K and K’s brother, G. I like the way these people are so spontaneous in their travels. It always takes me at least a day to update my itinerary, and when I do get around to it I’ll then normally book something for the day after that. This held true even when we were using public transport, where booking in advance is not normally required.

Welsh L & K and K’s brother, G, have arrived and they are in good spirits. They apologise for not meeting up with us in Bangkok but they’d high-end accommodation to enjoy. They’d also wanted to show G some of the sights, and the Khao San Road wasn’t among them. I could have done with them around in Bangkok, if I’m honest. Or failing that, I could have done without L and her Welsh friend B being around.

So Welsh L & K and K’s brother, G, have arrived, and O’s on his way too. L’s looks a little put out by that last snatch of information. Turns out that she’s not so keen on O. You would have thought that she’d like another American among the rank and file, but no, she thinks that O’s a ‘bit weird’. She’s not ingratiating herself towards me with statements like that, as she didn’t when she turned on M (Mk.2) in Luang Prabang.

Welsh L, K and K’s brother, G, are up for a few drinks tonight, and so is O now that he’s arrived. It’s great to hear L advocating a return to Thor’s because it really is the perfect place to make merry. There are global flags hanging from the rafters, wooden picnic-bench style seating, reasonably priced drinks, a toilet embellished with (gay) porn, and Thor plays good music. [Saint Etienne’s Heart Failed (in the Back of a Taxi) is a highlight, featuring on some ambient compilation that plays on rotation.]

After dinner, we work our way along the beach in search of watering holes. The thing with Koh Chang is that the entertainment isn’t as concentrated as it is on other beaches – it’s not that sort of place. None of the bars are particularly busy, but there are people drinking and there are plenty of bars to choose from. And to hit the point home, some bright spark goes and buys a Bucket of Joy, and then somebody else buys another after that – maybe even me.

Thor's

It’s not surprising that I’m hungover the next day and nor is it surprising that I’m not the only one. What’s slightly more confounding – only slightly – is that the following evening offers up a repeat performance of the one before. O and F aren’t involved this time around, the latter on account of the nasty headaches he’s been experiencing from the anti-malarial drugs he’s been taking [Larium]. I’m not sure what O’s excuse is.

Come the end of the night, it’s me, Welsh L and G battling it out for supremacy back at The Meeting Place – our guesthouse’s sorry excuse for a bar. We’re joined by two English lads who have just completed a two week tour of Cambodia, where they paid money to liberate ammunition from an AK-47 selective-fire assault rifle. Good fun, you would think, and if/when we end up in Cambodia then I might have a go myself, but one of the guys is traumatised by the experience. Sounding genuinely disturbed, he tells how delicate he now realises life really is, an epiphany that dawned on him the moment he squeezed the trigger and fired the rifle. The rest of us find this hilarious, but he stands firm and assures us that his life has been irrevocably changed.

06/02/03: 15 Palms for breakfast. Stroll about town, back to 15 Palms for coffee with L and ‘A’, dinner at Cookies – barbequed fish on the beach. Drink and a game of cards at Pens with all – a rather subdued evening.

07/02/03: 15 Palms for breakfast, beach, Pens for a small drink with F, G, Welsh L & K, dinner at Tonsai with L and ‘A’. Oodies to see a band with L, ‘A’, F and O, and drinks on the beach.

08/02/03: 15 Palms for breakfast; post postcards – getting very hot now. Thor’s for tea with L and O. Oodies plus Welsh L, K and G, drink on beach with Welsh and G, and make man-trap.

09/02/03: 15 Palms for breakfast. L departs. Tonsai for tea with partner, play cards back at Welsh L & K’s bungalow, with F too.

I have found an establishment that can cater for my hangovers. Up until now I have been ignoring L when she knocks on our door at 10:00, pausing for 10 minutes or so and then moping off to the local store and for crisps and Gatorade (or my partner has – we’ve been taking it in turns). Then I’ve been taking a cold shower, and, finally, I’ve been going to Cookies and battling with an American Breakfast. But even the mighty American Breakfast has been coming up short of late. I must have seen something at 15 Palms last night I liked, or maybe I just can’t be bothered to walk any further, but that’s where I find myself seeking succour today.

My new breakfast is this: 1 bacon and egg roll, 1 serving of fries (with chilli sauce to taste), 1 lime and mint shake, 1 cup of coffee. If I can get the egg and bacon roll down my throat before my gag reflex kicks in then I’m home and dry (fries are never a problem, and the chilli sauce merely adds flavour). Solids ingested, I get to work on the lime and mint shake. I’ve been drinking these shakes regularly since I chanced upon them in Bangkok. Made from crushed ice and real fruit juice, they’re a great form of rehydration and hugely refreshing. Some folk prefer a Lassi, which adds yoghurt to the mix, but I don't them them to be as rejuvenating. Then I finish off with the coffee at my leisure.

Like some sort of bonus feature, 15 Palms also plays Mezzanine by Massive Attack and Once in a Lifetime – The Best of Talking Heads without fail, and sometimes on the bounce. This will ensure that from now on I will take breakfast here every day regardless of my physical state of being. [Incidentally, O’s parents were/are friends of Tina Weymouth and Chris Frantz – the bass player and drummer from Talking Heads respectively – and O has met them. The music in 15 Palms, and my fondness for it, enables him to reveal this fact to me with a gratifyingly insouciant air.]

After those first two nights of intense revelry things began to settle down a bit. As a group we’d be pretty fragmented by day. Welsh L, K and her brother, G, hired a motorbike at one point and ventured off to explore the island’s interior. My partner and I attempted a long walk but found nothing of particular note, so spent most of the time reading or playing cards with whoever was about. I recall that I struggled with dinner at a place called Tonsai but quite enjoyed the barbequed fish at one of the pop-up restaurants on the beach, and was very glad when we made one last trip back to Thor’s place – especially so when it prompted a final night of heavy drinking and the construction of man-traps with an inebriated Welsh L and G.

And then, on our sixth full day on the island, L parted company having finally realised than the rest of us had our hearts set on travelling to Cambodia. The skirmishes on the border had abated, but there was no time now to launch an offensive into Vietnam. I was relieved that she was gone if only because her presence seemed to scare off Welsh L & K, and I very much wanted for them to accompany us to Cambodia – at least until I got a handle on the place.

But was it as simple as that, now that L was out of the way, so to speak? We made it clear to our friends that we were ready to leave and that it was to Cambodia that we would be travelling, and we’d probably be catching the earliest ferry back to the mainland the next day. Yet no invitations were extended and no plans were shared. Maybe it wasn’t L who was the problem after all?