After a lazy day and night of imitating fog, we were on the move again. Our final destination being the world famous Full Moon Party on the island of Koh Phangan, nearly 200km to the Northeast.
It seemed somewhat contradictory to be waking at 6am in a perfectly peaceful rainforest to make a mad cross-country dash by land and sea in order to attend an all-night dance party, but by this point, I'd long since learned not to question such things, and just go with it. So, one pickup truck ride, two pointless stops, a jammed minivan, a ferry crossing, a boat ride, and another pickup truck ride later, we arrived at our hostel where everything was, “no praablem.”
Night fell. Some food and a few beers later we made arrangements to get to the Full Moon Party. The hostel had a driver, but he would only take us as far as the pier—about half way—we would have to find our own transportation to the beach from there. Whatever. We grabbed a beer for the road and piled into the back of a pickup truck outfitted with benches and a rudimentary roof, along with the usual assortment of foreigners one finds in the back of such vehicles in SE Asia.
Nearly to the pier, our truck was delayed by a traffic stop, in which a police officer shone a flashlight in the back to ensure we all had open bottles of alcohol, then let us on our way. Once our driver would go no further, the four youngest travellers pounced on a taxi, leaving us to try to recruit two middle-aged guys to split the fare to the beach. “You guys heading to the Full Moon Party?” I asked. “The what?” (Was he serious?) “The Full Moon Party. Huge beach party. It's tonight. It's what this island is famous for.” “Ohh, nah. I think we're just going to try to find a bar around here.” “I'm pretty sure it's all just souvenir shops around here, we were here earlier.” “Yeah? Well, we heard there were a few bars somewhere around here.” “You sure?” “Yeah, we're just gonna' look around for those bars.” Suit yourselves, lamewads. We were heading to the giant fucking beach party.
The official Full Moon Party website boasts that the event draws between 10000 and 30000 people each month to the crescent-shaped beach of Haad Rin. I'd say (at least on December 21st, 2010) that a few thousand would be more accurate, but who's counting? However many people there were, they were happy: the alcohol was flowing, the was music thumping, and the night was young. Drinks here come in one form—buckets. The beach is lined with stalls run by unshy locals, each trying their best to outdo their neighbors in terms of lewd signage. I chose the stall I felt struck the finest balance between perversity and poor English, and got myself a bucket of booze. However, by this time, the beer I'd drank earlier was right ready to leave my system, so I gave Mia the bucket and went to find the nearest bathroom.
Upon returning—no more than 5 minutes later—I found Mia in the same spot, but the bucket half empty. That wasn't good. This was a girl that turned red after half a beer, and she'd just downed three double shots in as many minutes. “How do you feel?” I asked. But she was already curling up on the sand, trying to go to sleep.
One benefit of an early end to our Full Moon Party experience was a decided lack of hangover the next day (well, for me anyway). We walked a few back roads and beaches. Watched a man burning brush in a clearing cut into a patch of trees. Took it easy. I tried not to think about our trip coming to an end. Or about the flight back to Canada. Or job searching. I tried, also, not to think about how a lot of things could have gone better. Or about all the money I'd spent. Or disappointment. But that wasn't so easy.
Writing this now—one year later to the day—I find myself thinking back to some advice that Mia shared with me early on in our journey. A well-travelled friend of hers once told her that, when travelling, it's best to have no expectations. I think that's good advice. Very little of what I experienced over these sixty-two days lived up to the ideal that I'd created in my mind. But, even so, I like to believe there is value in even the most unpleasant of situations. At the very least, they are an exercise in endurance; a test of ones mettle. At best, they give me a wealth of memories and plenty to write about. The highs can't exist without the lows, after all, so why complain?
We returned to Haad Rin beach the night following the Full Moon Party, (we discovered there was no shortage of moon-themed parties on Koh Phangan: Full Moon, Half Moon, Black Moon, and why not? Did people really need much of an excuse to party on a tropical island?) and found things very nearly as lively as they'd been twenty-four hours ago. The energy, alcohol, and fire flowed here almost as constant as the tide.
Looking out down the beach, I felt a strange déjà vu: like I'd dreamt this place once, but had forgotten it until now. We walked alongside the revelry, letting the waves lap our feet, the almost-full moon pulling us towards home.
