The Full Moon Party
Thailand
After studying in Bali, where we had done pretty much everything except study, two friends and I decided to see a bit of the rest of Asia. If you’re already on the other side of the globe, why not take advantage of it? Besides, we had heard so many stories about the infamous Full Moon Party on Koh Phangan that one thing was clear to us: we couldn’t return to Europe without adding our own.
The cheapest flight we found took us directly to Phuket. However, even buying the tickets turned out to be a test of patience. For weeks, the system wouldn’t let us choose three seats until we finally booked separately.
When we arrived in Phuket, we were standing unsuspectingly on the escalator when we suddenly heard loud cries of “stop” from below. The arrivals area was so crowded that the people on the escalator, including us, bumped quite roughly into the unfortunate people closest to it. No one could move. More and more people followed from above, and we were pressed painfully against each other.
Once the tangle of sweating travelers had managed to untangle itself to some extent, the next challenge was already waiting for us: passport control. Organized in a similarly ingenious way as the arrivals area, it only took two hours before it was our turn. The air conditioning had long since given up, and there wasn’t even a gentle breeze.
The person controlling the rows looked like we felt. He was in a very bad mood, and looked at the tired people waiting with red eyes. An elderly gentleman with a walking stick who showed a disabled pass was gruffly sent back to his waiting spot. No mercy was shown here.
After we finally got the stamp in our passports, we went outside to the cab ranks. Unfortunately, there was a yawning void. Too many of the arrivals had been quicker than us. We stared intently into the distance for a while until suddenly, accompanied by a soft clatter, an aging cab rolled up.
The driver, as antiquarian as his car, gruffly snatched her cell phone with the hotel address from Christa’s hand, held it close to his tightly squeezed eyes, only to then stretch it far away from him with an equally strained expression on his face and finally hold it just millimeters away from his eyes again. It took us a few minutes to realize what this strange action meant: the man was practically blind. The best prerequisites for becoming a cab driver!
But he didn’t let a little thing, like a lack of sight, stop him. He cheerfully announced that he knew the address, and as we just wanted to go to bed, we had no choice but to get into the rumbling cab with the blind driver and hope for the best. Of course, it was still pitch black, so even as a sighted person, it was difficult to see the way. He seemed to want to compensate for his lack of eyesight with speed, and so we drove along barely asphalted roads at breakneck speed. Although the stars were not favorable, we survived the hour-long journey unscathed.
The cab groaned reproachfully. “I’m stopping here. It’s too dangerous for me,” the man said unconcernedly, allowing three young girls laden with heavy luggage to get out on the road, which was too unsafe for him. We realized all too quickly why he hadn’t wanted to drive on. Gloomy, dilapidated buildings loomed over us. A neon sign flickered with an eerie buzz, and a visibly drunk man suddenly stumbled onto the sidewalk. A large rat jumped up in fright and ran into the night.
We suppressed the urge to do the same and heaved our bulky luggage towards the accommodation. The next lost soul was already lurking at the bottom of the hotel stairs. He waited until we had dragged ourselves past him. Then he scurried up the stairs after us, more or less inconspicuously.
In der kaum beleuchteten Lobby angekommen, feierten bereits drei grölende Jugendliche in Badehosen, die eindeutig zu tief in die Alkohol-Buckets geschaut hatten, eine kleine Privatparty. Einer von ihnen, der einen doch recht seltsamen Ausschlag am gesamten Körper aufwies, ließ es sich nicht nehmen, mich persönlich zu begrüßen, und wollte sich schwungvoll in meine Arme schmeißen. Vor Schreck machte ich einen Satz zurück und der Krätze-Mann fiel ins Leere. „Don’t touch her!“, rief Christa empört, und zog so den Unmut der anderen zwei Halbstarken auf sich.
Fast kam es zu einer gewalttätigen Auseinandersetzung, jedoch schaltete sich der Rezeptionist mit müder Stimme ein. “I will show you the room”. Erleichtert griffen wir bereits nach unserem Gepäck. Da schob sich auf einmal der Mann, der uns in das Hotel gefolgt war, vorbei und ließ sich das Zimmer zeigen. Verdutzt schauten wir uns an. Was geschah hier? Nachdem sie gemeinsam unsere Betten überprüft hatten, zog der Unbekannte mich verschwörerisch beiseite: “Do you wanna party with me tonight?” Ich wusste nicht, was verlockender war. Eine Umarmung vom Krätze-Mann oder eine Partynacht mit einem thailändischen Straßengangster.
“I have some nice friends as well”, fuhr er fort und zeigte auf Christa und Dana. Die beiden wirken jedoch nicht, als wollten sie seine netten Freunde kennenlernen, und so musste ich sein großzügiges Gebot dankend ablehnen. Im Hintergrund hatten die Jungs angefangen, sich gegenseitig Kopfnüsse zu verpassen, und hofften so, die Aufmerksamkeit wieder auf sich lenken zu können. Wir wollten jedoch nur noch eins: Schlafen. Der Rezeptionist ließ sich endlich dazu herab, auch uns das Zimmer zu zeigen, das aus zwei Hochbetten bestand. “No keys for the room. Cannot lock.” Da schlief es sich doch in Anbetracht der Klientel besonders gut.
Christa seufzte erleichtert und ließ ihre schwere Tasche auf den fleckigen Boden fallen. Sie öffnete den Reißverschluss, sprang aber mit einem lauten Schrei zurück. “Kakerlake!!” Für eine Sekunde wurde es dunkel um mich herum, in der nächsten befand ich mich auf der oberen Matratze des Hochbetts. Christa und Dana schauten mit offenem Mund zu mir herauf. “Wie bist du da einfach so heraufgesprungen?” Ich hatte es all die Jahre doch in mir gehabt. Allerdings blieb es bei dieser einmaligen körperlichen Meisterleistung. Danach versank ich wieder in den bedeutungslosen Tiefen der Unsportlichkeit. Hätten die Lehrer doch einmal Kakerlaken zum Unterricht mitgebracht.
Der Schreck war gerade einigermaßen verdaut, da machten wir uns auf die Suche nach dem Bad. Es erinnerte an die liebevolle Einrichtung eines Gefängnisses für Schwerverbrecher. Eine blutige Spritze lag dekorativ auf dem Boden und aus einer der kleinen Klokabinen drangen klägliche Würgegeräusche hervor. So langsam kamen uns die ersten Zweifel, ob es eine gute Entscheidung gewesen war, weniger als einen Euro für die Übernachtung auszugeben.
„Hier schlafe ich keine Sekunde“, verkündete Christa entsetzt. Aber was blieb uns schon anderes übrig? Augen zu und durch!
Wir verbrachten die Nacht in einem Dämmerzustand, rechneten jede Sekunde damit, die Krätze-Gang oder der Straßengangster würden uns Gesellschaft leisten.
Am frühen Morgen machten wir uns so schnell wie möglich im Gemeinschaftsbad fertig und platzieren uns gut sichtbar vor dem Hotel. Alles fuhr oder kroch an uns vorbei, nur kein Bus. Inzwischen leicht beunruhigt stieg ich die vielen Treppen wieder hinauf und erkundigte mich beim Rezeptionisten unseres Vertrauens nach dessen Verbleib. Jedoch wirkte er alles andere als begeistert über die Störung. “No worry. If bus not here in two hours, then worry”, murmelte er unwirsch. Das klang doch vielversprechend.
Glücklicherweise tauchte der Bus aber nach nur einer Stunde Verspätung auf. Bei einem Zwischenstopp nutzten wir die Gelegenheit, Tickets für die Fähre nach Koh Phangan zu kaufen. Leichter gesagt als getan. Zuerst wurde der Abfahrtshafen inkorrekt angegeben, dann der Ankunftsort und zum Schluss noch unsere Namen falsch geschrieben. Als sowohl unsere als auch die Nerven des Ticketverkäufers blank lagen, dachten wir, endlich würde alles passen. Nur ein Feld überprüften wir noch nicht einmal genauer: das Datum der Rückfahrt – ein schwerwiegender Fehler, wie sich später herausstellen sollte.
Gegen späten Nachmittag kamen wir am Hafen an und geduldig stellten wir uns an das Ende der Schlange, wurden aber sofort von vorbeihastenden Menschen unsanft beiseite geschubst. Überhaupt herrschte ein ruppiger Umgangston. Jeder versuchte, sich auf die Fähre zu quetschen. Mitleidig schauten wir auf die Rangeleien. Schließlich verfügten doch alle über Tickets für diese Fähre. Dass die anderen aber nicht unhöflicher, sondern einfach nur schlauer waren, bemerkten wir, als die Türen unter lauten Rufen geschlossen wurden: ”Full, full!” Panisch schauten wir uns an. Hatten wir doch Tickets für genau dieses Schiff gebucht.
Aber kein Grund zur Sorge, wurde uns versichert. In einer halben Stunde würde schon die nächste Fähre kommen. Diese musste aber unbemerkt an uns vorbeigefahren sein, denn erst nach anderthalb Stunden konnten wir endlich den überfüllten Hafen verlassen.
We arrived at Koh Phangan harbor in the dark. A man from the crew started throwing the luggage onto the pier. I watched him with admiration. After all, there was a good distance between him and the jetty. However, my enthusiasm turned out to be premature. “Aaaay”; shouted the man full of zeal. He eagerly grabbed the top piece of luggage, took a long swing, and with a loud clap, it sank into the dark depths of the ocean. I had never seen people run to their luggage so fast. Everyone was almost falling over each other, trying to save it from the arms of the crew.
As we left the ferry, we could still see a couple of men searching the water with a dim cell phone light that flickered hopelessly, half-heartedly throwing a line over and over in the direction where they thought the suitcase was. It remained missing. We could only hope that it mainly contained swimming gear.
Colorful pick-up trucks were already waiting for us, and before we could even give our address, they had already thrown our bags onto the loading area. In general, luggage seemed to be of little value here. Good thing I had left my laptop with a friend in Bali. Together with other travelers, we squeeze in next to the bags. Of course, we searched in vain for seat belts, so we bounced painfully up and down on the fast ride.
Luckily, our accommodation was in a prime location: right on the infamous Full Moon Party beach. The manager turned out to be much nicer than the Phuket receptionist and allowed us to use a two-person hut for three. At no extra charge.
The facilities in the hut were limited to the bare essentials anyway. There was a small bed, a bathroom sink, and a toilet without a flush, but with a bucket of water next to it. Of course, you weren’t allowed to flush the toilet paper, so the next morning, the waste-basket was already swarming with ants.
At the end of the eventful day, we sat down at a cozy table right by the water. Compared to Phuket, this was paradise. As in Bali, the waiters brought us our food at different times, and the first one was almost finished before the last one, strangely always the hungriest, got her portion.
We had expected a lot of hustle and bustle in the morning, but the beach still seemed relatively quiet. Perhaps most people were just saving their energy for the big party. We went for breakfast, and after only a short hour, Christa and Dana were served their food. When I asked for my banana pancakes, I received a scathing look. “You have to order first.” So that’s how it worked. Here, you actually ordered your food before it was served.
At one of the many small stores, we spontaneously decided to try on some shorts, which was normally a relatively safe undertaking, but not so on Koh Phangan. I had just slipped one leg into the shorts when the sales clerk suddenly banged furiously against the thin curtain that was hung in front of the mirror. His hand shot out towards me and tore the jeans from my grasp with unusual force. I almost toppled over and, clad only in my underpants, tore the curtain to the floor with me. “Get out!” he shouted in a rage. The man knew how to do business. We looked at each other, completely baffled. What had we done wrong?
In Bali, we were used to the vendors being eager to sell to us, but now the rules seemed to be different. We were simply ignored completely or fobbed off with snippy answers. “I am busy,” said one woman, pointing bossily to her empty store, where we were the only customers. We tried to negotiate a better price for three plastic flower wreaths, but this also met with a less than positive response. “You are ugly girls!” we were harshly told. We saw to it that we left the store as quickly as possible.
At least we weren’t too unattractive for neon tattoos, and two boys diligently painted creative ornaments on our bodies.
Although without shorts or flower wreaths, but shining in all neon colors, the next damper was already waiting for us. Instead of the 14th, our return tickets had been issued for the 16th. With a slightly quickened pulse, we set off in search of the nearest ticket counter. The employee simply grumbled that we could call the head office for some money. We replied that we wouldn’t pay money for the fact that someone else had made a mistake. He sighed: “Ok. I call boss,” and made an awkward call to the control center, only to put the phone in our hands a few minutes later. “Everything full,” a woman’s voice said. “But we need to get on this ferry! We already booked our flights and everything.” “I knooooow,” sighed the woman on the other end of the line, now suitably concerned. “Can you not give us tickets for the 14th?” “No have. I wanna speak to Thailand people.”
Panicked, we bombarded the poor man with requests to change the date. He nodded understandingly several times and talked to the woman on the phone. After a few agonizing minutes, our friend and helper nodded, now beaming: “Ok, all good. You can go on the 16th.” We looked at him, stunned. “No, not the 16th. We need to leave on the 14th.” “Aaaaah” the man shouted with fervor, and his determined look left no doubt that he had now fully understood what we wanted from him. We looked at each other with relief. He was now talking even faster to the sad boss. Our eyes turned hopefully to him as he hung up again and proudly announced, “It’s ok!” We laughed with relief. “You can go on the 16th.”
Silence. We heard a dog barking in the distance.
Defeated, we decided to give up and drown our sorrows in one of the many buckets that were decoratively laid out along the roadside and filled with high-quality alcohol. We hoped to meet more revelers on the beach, but only came across a few isolated vacationers sipping water and solving crossword puzzles. The whole thing was now so worrying that we were beginning to wonder whether we had even landed on the right island. We decided to simply drink enough to make up for the others.
Christa used the time to fill us in on the historical background of the party. Some time ago, a group of tourists had come to this very beach by chance—they had probably also been issued the wrong tickets—and thought that nowhere in the world did the moon shine more beautifully than here, where we were now devoutly drinking from plastic buckets. This was the start of the infamous party, which attracts between 10,000 and 30,000 people from all over the world every month. We wondered where those people where now.
But the more the sun went down, the more the beach filled up. “I forgot my condoms!” suddenly shouted a girl behind us, and together with her friends, she ran back to the hotel. It seemed we were more than unprepared.
The DJs must have fallen asleep at some point; the same gems of the music world, such as “YMCA” and “What makes you beautiful,” were playing on a continuous loop. However, this didn’t dampen the mood, as most people were looking too deep into their buckets to hear anything anyway. Young boys amazed everyone by performing the most incredible tricks with fire. The men immediately wanted to do the same and jumped more or less artfully through hoops of fire or simply let themselves fall into the flames.
We could hardly believe our eyes when we saw a huge rope of fire being swung a little further on, and the drunks found nothing more amusing than proving their courage by trying to jump over it. However, many did not quite manage the feat and often got caught in the rope. The hangover would be the least of their worries the next morning.
The World Cup final started at around three in the morning, and interest in the party waned noticeably. Unfortunately, the alcohol eventually had its effect on me—albeit not the hoped-for one—as I simply toppled off the plastic chair with a squeak. After that, I decided it was better to go to bed. On the way to our hut, I came across a couple who were engaged in a close embrace in the waves. The romantic atmosphere was further enhanced by the gentle splashing of urine from the men by their sides.
All in all, it had been an interesting experience. Unfortunately, we hadn’t seen the moon once in the sky.
A cab was supposed to pick us up at six in the morning. Quite optimistic of us, as we hadn’t gone to bed until five. However, we thought it would be advisable to be at the ferry as early as possible in order to somehow get a seat. Of course, the alarm clock didn’t ring (it’s possible that nobody heard it), but Dana miraculously woke up shortly after six. As quickly as possible, we threw our clothes in our bags and ran to the street. There we were only given a dirty look: “You late, you pay extra.”
We had to pay the equivalent of 30 euros more. We could have bought our own vehicle for that money. This fee made even less sense, as there were so many “cabs” around anyway. Although we refused to pay, one driver suddenly snatched our luggage out of our hands and slammed it onto the roof of his van. Worried about our belongings, as we had only just experienced on the ferry what a harsh fate could befall them, we asked if we could put them on our laps. In response, the driver spat out in front of us and shouted that nobody would drive people like us. To make matters worse, the vans were so overcrowded that we had to stand on narrow running boards that were loosely attached to the sides. We stared in disbelief, first at the device, then at the driver. He drove off without us. Fortunately, he threw our luggage onto the road first.
But there was still hope, as a new van soon appeared, in which we were even given a seat. We asked the visibly worried men on the running boards to check on our bags from time to time, as the driver was driving quite fast and they were sliding back and forth on the roof. As a result, the contents of all the side bags fell onto the road, and would now be vacationing on Koh Phangan forever. The others in the van looked as if they hadn’t been able to handle the bucket alcohol quite so well, and I inconspicuously tried to put as much space as possible between myself and my gagging seat neighbor, but was repeatedly pressed up against her in the numerous bends.
The atmosphere in the waiting hall was rather depressed, as people were writhing all over the bare floor, looking as if they wouldn’t be with us for much longer. To our great surprise, however, we did manage to get on the ferry. The ticket inspectors didn’t look at the date any more than we had done.
The next stop, Koh Tao, was like something out of a postcard and especially beautiful in the evening, when everything was illuminated by tiny lights and we could admire a fire show while lying on cushions. This time without any drunks falling into the flames.
The following day, I was finally able to cross something off my to-do list again when I went to a fish spa with Christa. At first, it really took some getting used to, with hundreds of little fish nibbling on our toes, but after a while, you hardly felt a thing.
After our feet felt as soft as velvet, we wanted to book our bus ticket from Bangkok to Siem Reap. However, the ticket sellers had no idea what we were talking about and looked at us as if we had asked them to organize an impromptu trip to the moon. “Don’t know. Have to call boss.” Were the employees just for decoration? At some point, however, we came across a competent-looking man who sold us an extremely cheap bus ticket. We would find out soon enough why it was so cheap.
We continued on to Bangkok by ferry and bus. We had been told that we would arrive at midnight, so we booked a hotel as a precaution. However, this turned out to be a bad investment. They had made a mistake with the arrival time. We didn’t arrive in Bangkok until 4 a.m. It was already too late to check in.
We stood helplessly next to our luggage, between huge piles of garbage. The street was deserted, with just a few cockroaches strolling around next to a fat rat. We decided to wait in the nearest McDonald’s for the bus to Cambodia. The air conditioning was doing its best to keep up in the race for the employee of the month award. Shivering, we pressed ourselves together.