Love You Long Time

Having fallen in love with Koh Phangan last year, I was keen to return. So in April (2011) last year, KatieB and I flew out to Thailand. Now contrary to the blog’s name, I guess you could say this was more like a hop, a skip, and a jump. The whole journey process was almost too easy and within 24 hours of leaving Doha, we were walking off the ferry in Thongsala. The only hiccup to finding our wonderful resort on Leela Beach was the mini trek over rough ground in the dark each carrying a handle of KatieB’s slightly impractical, but very pretty, pink suitcase. Luckily both of us were delirious from lack of sleep and found the whole event rather amusing. 

On the boat over to Koh Phangan, Thailand

Despite having an impossible name to pronounce, Sarikantang (the resort) couldn’t have been any nicer. Especially as when we arrived, we discovered we’d been upgraded. Our room had become some sort of honeymoon deluxe suite complete with swan shaped towels, glass bathroom walls (which thankfully also had blinds), and romantic built-for-two balcony sofa. Located just a 7min walk away from the hedonistic mess that is Had Rin, we were perfectly located for any Full Moon antics. We spent the days suntanning – KatieB’s ultimate aim in life is to be permanently tanned and was determined to go back to the UK black – and the evenings in Hat Rin on the beach drinking buckets, dancing on tables, and attempting a multitude of gymnastics moves (attempting being the key word in that sentence). We also rediscovered our love for Friends (the show seemed a hit with the locals and played on a loop). We sparked up a great friendship between a bucket-seller/toilet-paper keeper, Jolie and her two-year old daughter, Bindy. Quite frankly, a win-win situation! She supplied the alcohol (plus jewellery, albeit plastic) and toilet paper all for one discounted price! We met a rather strange assortment of people – DJ Talent, Billy Elliot, Talk to Frank, Nelson (Mandela), Aston from JLS, and Eminem - who we definitely impressed with our 'brap brap brap' skills - to name just a few.

View from our room, Koh Phangan

At one point, we ventured out on a moped. I was designated driver as whilst KatieB is talented at a great many things, driving scooters and parking are not two of them. The death-defying mountains (hills really) in and out of Had Rin combined with my shaky biking skills meant we didn’t get much further than the port. We conceded to wondering around Thongsala and called it our ‘cultural’ day. I wasn’t too bothered about not gallivanting around the island as I had already done it the year previous. KatieB proved to be a great backseat passenger, entertaining me with various choruses from Rihanna and for some odd reason, 'Jingle Bell Rock'.

Painted up for Full Moon, Had Rin

We had a spectacular time and I was beyond devastated to leave. So much so that as soon as I returned home, I promptly sent my CV out to a multitude of language schools in the hope of moving. Whilst it was my desire to up and leave immediately, common sense has prevailed, so I sit writing this post from the comfort of my room in Doha. P'haps next year. 

LA

As we stepped off the plane in LA we realised we were officially entering he final leg of our trip. Bitter-sweet; as although we were both excited to head back to the UK, it did mean that our travels were officially coming to an end. Despite having literally no money left – apparently budgeting is not my forte – we wanted to make the most of it. Especially as it was my first time in the States.

The first thing we noticed about the people in LA is how friendly they were! Rocking up to a bus station from the airport, we had zero change on us. But the bus driver welcomed us aboard, waving away the fact we couldn’t pay. Had that been London, we would have had the door unceremoniously shut in our faces! Then a delightful man asked us where we were headed and proceeded to give us very explicit directions. Ah-mazing!

Very Baywatch-esque, Hermosa Beach, LA

Our first hostel – Surf City Hostel – was located right on Hermosa Beach, a stone’s throw away from the sea. Cool, but run by an old, slightly hippy, surfer dude who seemed it his life mission to make inappropriate sex comments that made for very awkward conversation!

Universal Studios, LA



Hollywood Walk of Fame, LA

Dodgers Game, LA

Tourist’ing-it-up to the max, we visited all the standard attractions: Universal Studios, a Dodgers match where we got our first taste of the anthem “Take Me Out to the Ball Game,” the Hollywood Walk of Fame, Grauman’s Chinese Theatre as well as a tour around celebrity houses (much to my disgust and HT’s joy!).
  

As we had failed to take my own advice of booking well in advance for accommodation, we had only secured two nights at our first hostel, so had to move. Hoisting on the now quite worn backpacks, we trekked across town to Venice Beach (Venice Beach Hostel). Attempting to be adventurous, we rented out bikes from the friendly English owner, which soon became known as the “Bikes of Death” (appropriately named by HT). Halfway down to the main road, heading to the beach, we realized that HT’s brakes did not work. At all. In hindsight, we realized it probably would’ve been a good idea to head back and exchange them, but obviously common sense failed us and we didn’t do that. Instead we cycled all the way up to Santa Monica pier. We had to adopt some sort of system that involved me yelling to warn her when I was stopping and her using her feet/various body parts to stop the beast. This worked well until on the way back, I unfortunately made the mistake of taking us via a highway. In the dark. Of course our lights didn’t work either. Brilliant.

Whilst snorers had plagued as throughout the trip, nothing compared to our last night at Venice Beach Hostel. I kid you not, it sounded like a train was ripping right through the room. The bastard in question’s bed was right next to mine. I started to get more annoyed at each passing noise and eventually worked up the courage to start shaking his bed. It seemed to work initially, but then he would just start up again. Even louder. At one point, HT and I burst out laughing the middle of the night out of pure desperation. Classic laughing to stop the crying. Nearing the edge of desperation, I grabbed my pillow and smacked him across the body. Hard. He woke with a jump as I ducked under the covers. The five minute respite combined with my iPod gave me enough time to finally fall asleep.

Beyond sad that we were at the end of our travels. The only silver lining was that I still had Ibiza to look forward to!

BULA!

The capital of Fiji is Nadi (pronounced Nan-di). We decided to only spend a day or two either side of island hopping on the mainland. So armed with our Bula passes, we boarded the ferry and headed off to Beachcomber, dubbed the “party” island, wet weather and a lack of funds meant we attempted to have a quiet night of cards. Obviously that is not how it ended. We joined a group that had been on the islands for a while and I was introduced to the drinking game 'F*** the Dealer'. I won’t say much more, but the one thing I learnt from that night is to steer well clear of Fijian rum.

Considering there wasn’t much to do on the island, we left the next day, hopped back on the ferry and headed north to Kuata. A very authentic island, the dorms were pretty basic. Considering the previous nights’ antics, I spent most of the day lying on the beach in the shade passing in and out of various states of consciousness. HT was far more productive and went on a village trip to a neighbouring island. That night we witnessed our first of many “Bula Experiences” which consisted of semi-naked men coated in oil dancing about in straw skirts throwing fire about. Interesting to say the least!

Poi, Fiji

The following day we made a move over to the opposite island of Wayalailai. The water was pretty choppy and the boats pretty small. Once we’d made the crossing, we had to turn back as another boat had broken down. We then had to attempt some sort of rescue mission of manoeuvering the passengers on the other boat into our rickety one. A little perilous, it was touch and go for a while.

Island Hopping, Fiji

Island Hopping, Fiji

After Wayalailai our next stop was Octopus. Considering we’d been homeless backpacking bums for the past three something months, to us, it was a vision of paradise. Luxuries included, a pool, sunbeds, proper dorms, towels … (the list was endless). That night we experienced out first Kava ceremony. We all sat round in a circle – girls with their legs to the side, boys cross-legged. A surprisingly complicated ritual as it required lots of shouting and clapping.

Skydiving, Fiji

Arriving back in Nadi after our final island, Korovou, I made a decision. After my failed attempt at skydiving in New Zealand, I massively manned up and jumped out of a plane (for a second time) at 14,000ft in Fiji. A lot higher than my first jump in Slovenia a few years ago, but quite frankly I don’t think it makes much of a difference in terms of scariness – 9,000 or 14,000, doesn’t really matter when you’re perched on the edge of a plane with your feet dangling into thin air! The most frightening part of the experience was when the pilot attempted a mini nosedive to scare us. It worked. As my butt lifted off the floor of the tiny plane, my heart dropped into my stomach. Little words can describe the feeling of freefalling through the air, so I won’t even try. What I will say is that the one regret I have from my travelling experience is that I didn’t skydive in New Zealand.

After spending two glorious weeks in Fiji, we headed off to our last and final stop in LA.