Ko Samui and Chaweng Thailand Gap Year Research Trip
I headed over to Ko Samui… Allow me to introduce Chaweng, Ko Samui’s seedy night life capital in the most flattering way possible. Disgusting.
An ugly town rife with prostitution, sex tourism and Go Go Bars. Arriving on the boat from Surat Thani, I was eager to learn what samui had to offer: A heavy dose of Chlamydia and Aids. This place is magaluf on steroids,. At dinner I witnessed 2 guys having dinner with 3 hookers, one of the guys was wearing a wedding ring….says it all. Hookers in every bar and people pestering the fuck out of you on the beach trying to sell you drugs…. Now I’m all for female attention and drugs, but not like this. I like my women to have vaginas for a start. No shit I was propositioned by a ladyboy last night….”I come with you for free baby”…. Eugh! Naturally I obliged and was rigorously bummed to with in an inch of my life.
The day time is not much better, I had checked my self into Mandalay bungalows in the town centre, right on the beach. The hotel was awesome, a bungalow with bar and bed deck for 800 baht a night – about £13. Eager to get some sun and do nothing I headed down to just chill out on the sun loungers and watch the world go by. I lasted about an hour before being chased off the beach by the constant hassling from Thai hawkers selling Bracelets, sarongs Ice creams, T-shirts and mainly drugs. Pushers everywhere. “Hey man want some dope?”; “Hey man where you from”, “Happy Hour for you!” – What this means I’m not sure but usually warrants a response “Well it will be when you get lost” or my least favourite approach Hey My friend!”. Erm Excuse me? I think I have a slightly more selective approach to selecting friends than irritating dope pushers on the beach with no teeth. These people are disgustingly irritating. To prove a point I set a stop watch. In One minute I had 3 different people come up to me and try and sell me stuff. I shit you not they virtually cue up for me to tell them, “no thanks”. Even if you are in a conversation they will but in. The mutherfuckers!
Now I realise that I’m being particularly negative about Chaweng, and I’m really trying to be a bit positive, but the truth is there is nothing that I can think of that is actually good here, well may be the clothes shopping. I went in to a tailor and had 2 linen shirts custom built which at £25 each turned out to be extremely cool.
In Chaweng I have been hanging around with a guy called Hamish from Putney and a gay guy called Rod from New Zealand. He was a bit sheepish at coming out at first, but I had my suspicions when he admitted over dinner that he owned a poodle – to which my response was “that’s not a very Manly dog Rod”. Then he kept referring to “his partner”. “You are Gay right?” I asked him.
“Yes I am he replied somewhat uncertain.”
“Excellent.” I have a new victim to rip for a few days I thought.
From that moment on I was constantly telling Rod to stop trying to Bum Hamish and take this piss pretty much as much as possible. For example:
“I’m confused” Rod said whilst looking at the menu in the restaurant.
“Ha! You have been confused since the age of 13 Rod!”. His plight was not helped when I discovered that he was carrying a day pack that said “Fairyland” on it. Still as gays go he was a nice gay, not a highly predatory bum seeker. I also met a couple of Dutch girls and A German girl called Caroline with her French Canadian friend Joelle. We all hung out for a few days and they were a good laugh.
The Arrival of Steve, Rob and Stew.
After 4 days of hanging around, my reason for being on Samui came to fruition. The arrival of my mates. I picked them up in the dodgiest jeep one could hire, a Suzuki vitara of sorts, with the turning circle of a supertanker. I will not go into detail about the goings on for the next ten days surfice to say we headed to Ko Tao, I got drunk, Stew was on a drip and Steve fucked a lesbian. They all learnt to dive, which I assisted on, a 4 day extravaganza of fucking about under water, playing poker at 18 metres, serious air guitar and me fighting trigger fish. We had a great week but like all good things it was soon over.
Oli’s Plans for the next few months. The bungalow pimp palace and The DMT.
After the guys left I managed to find myself this ridiculous place up the mountain in which to base myself for the next 6 weeks. Having decided to become a divemaster ( a qualification that allows you to work in the dive industry – not that that is of interest what is is the unlimited free dives whilst you train.) I needed a suitable abode. Imagine a wooden shack extended with 2 balconies, situated up the worlds dodgiest road, ridiculously steep, unlit and unpaved. The cabin is perfect. A huge French window gives way to the most incredible view, as I’m sat typing this, sat on a bean bag with my feet dangling out the window, I can see down to the sea through a jungle of palms. Out to sea the sea turns from turquoise to a deep deep blue, and every evening the sun sets directly in front of my window. Paradise. Inside the shack is a kitchen, with a fridge (full of beer), a bed deck with the worlds biggest bed – easily enough for 4 people – enclosed in a wrap around mosquito net. All of this for the princely sum of £95 a month.
I have inherited a few pets along with this place. Geckos. Fucking huge monsters. The size of large rats they live in the ceiling and behind wooden panelling, they tend to come out at night, scurrying around waiting for bugs to eat. My favourite thing about these guys is that they occasionally let out a mating call. A shrill sounding alarm that builds up to a Gecko sound. “Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…. Ecko….Ecko…Ecko…urrrr. The last bit sounds like they have just had a little gecko orgasm.
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