Hua Hin

Hua Hin is widely known as a popular destination for Thai vacationers, nestled on the coast east of Bangkok. Wealthy families own beach homes, the King has his summer palace, and Swedish retirees can enjoy cheap accommodation and a (non-Swedish) massage.

The town maintained a nice balance between the tourist attractions and the distinctly Thai street scene. We stayed on Poolsuk road, which was closed to traffic and lined with bars and restaurants, each spilling a unique brand of noise, light and scantily clad Thai women onto the street. We began to suspect that our accommodation, London Bar, was a whorehouse, since the head of the bar told us her name was “Yai” (which means “big”) because she “has many women.” I decided not to jump to the conclusion that Yai was a madame, since I had to sleep in the beds there.

Hua Hin offered less sleaze than many other vacation destinations, however, especially once we got outdoors a bit. We took a tuk tuk to Sam Roi Yod national park, where we did a boat tour of the local islands, and then cruised through a channel where there was a small fisherman’s village with kitschy painted boats bobbing in the water.



The best part of the park was Phrayanakorn Cave, a massive cavern nestled in the side of a mountain. The cave was hundreds of feet high, dripping with stalactites, sprouting a whole forest of trees, and illuminated by massive holes through which blinding light poured in. In the middle of the biggest room of the cave sat a lonely, shining temple.





Saturday night we went to a night market, and then I attended my first Muay Thai fight. About time, I know. I definitely respect the reflexes required to stave off blows from above and below, not to mention gauging when to kick, punch or plain ol’ body slam your opponent. The spectators were definitely a rousing bunch. When two young boys began boxing, what I assume were their family members screamed and gestured so wildly I couldn’t help paying more attention to them than what was happening in the ring.

This is my last week before break, which means a lot of finals to grade and some corny things to reflect on (wow, time has flown so quickly, I've faced so many challenges…. the usual). All I know is that I’m glad I’m staying. There’s still so much I want to do, scratch that, will do before I leave. I’m also finally starting to get into some sort of groove with my students and becoming more savvy as a traveler, now’s the time for me to operate like a pro.

… althouuuugh I’m going to have to put off living like a pro until my motorbike wounds heal. Yes, I got in a little motorbike accident. But before you judge, let me just say: if you spend a few months in Thailand, you will find yourself on a motorbike. It’s inevitable. It’s magnetism, fate, destiny. Just be careful on those turns.

Nakhon Sawan

This past weekend featured a series of rather confusing streets and even more confusing plans. Nakhon Sawan is not only a much larger province than I gave it credit for, it’s also a “non-tourist place,” as a woman in the temple on the hill put it. Even here in Amata I spot a westerner once every, oh, couple weeks. Nakhon Sawan proved to be completely empty of farangs, although it did house the highest Chinese immigrant population in the country.


Due to the lack of Western tourism, there was also a noticeable absence of rip-offs. A three-entree meal, including a pair of rice bowls and bottled waters, added up to 3 US dollars per person. A hotel room that included television, air conditioning and free breakfast was about 7 dollars per person. Even more significant, at least to me, were the demeanors of the people. The locals not only smiled, they reached out to us befuddled farangs, even when assistance it wasn’t requested (I guess our puzzled expressions said it all).

We visited a temple on the side of a mountain, and I put a coin in a prayer bowl for good luck. A recording of a monk began to play, and a golden display lit up in celebration of my donation. A Thai woman approached me and attempted to translate. “He’s blessing you with good luck,” she explained, listening to the monk murmur on, “but he’s telling it in very, very many words.” We laughed as the monotone monk droned on. She suggested that I look up what day of the week I was born, because this was quite significant to Buddhists. She then advised me about places to visit in Nakhon Sawan, and invited her mother over to make suggestions. Her little mother expressed a deep wish to be my guide because “she wanted so much for me have a pleasant time in her province.”

This woman was the first in a sequence of pure-hearted locals; later that day we were sitting, lost and sweaty on a dirty street corner, and a woman rolled up on her motorbike and offered to help us in any way she could. When I had trouble communicating with a tuk tuk driver, a local came over and offered to translate for me.

That evening, the first night in a week-long Chinese New Year festival, we wandered through a typical Thai-style street fair (food stands, cheap clothing and jewelry), then stumbled upon a nice light display. There were massive lanterns constructed of intricate wire frames and colorful cloth. There was also some sort of stage show whose plot I could hardly piece together, but which drew in a massive crowd of onlookers.



The next day we rode a tuk tuk pimped out with a karaoke machine to what looked like an enormous boat on the map we'd acquired, but turned out to be the local aquarium (built in the shape of a gigantic ark). The facility was actually very state-of-the-art, and featured tons of marine life (including the local species, the Tiger Fish), as well as a glass tunnel where you could observe rays and fishes the size of grown men. After that we had dinner at a floating restaurant on the shore, and I watched children play in the water. This weekend turned out to be the opposite of my last weekend in pretty much every way, but I liked both for their distinctions. I guess the ideal travel itinerary is one that combines the picturesque but overpriced tourist spots and the sometimes shabbier but more authentic local areas.

Full Moon Party

Last weekend I went to the Full Moon Party, an event which has been elevated to the status of legendary among backpacking circles in Thailand. I made it a three day endeavor, since the journey required hauling myself to an island far down south. Transportation to Ko Phagnan involved a van, a cab, an overnight sleeper train, a bus, a boat, and the back of a pick-up truck. Believe it or not, even more vehicles were involved on the way home. This phenomenon has become a classic feature of Thai travel, one that I’m learning to enjoy. On the sleeper train I got to read a lot, then slept through most of our journey.

Ko Phagnan was incredibly beautiful, and immediately washed away any of the travel fatigue that may have been lingering. I initially suspected that the island would be crowded with backpackers for the Full Moon, and it was, but our small cluster of beach bungalows (and the plucky Thai woman who owned them) were fairly isolated. The Chokana resort had food, a hammock, and blue water… I could die happy.


On Friday night we took a songtaew into Trong La, the closest main street, and I waited over an hour for a juicy and long overdue hamburger. I was struck by how many farangs there were, particularly Swedish people overwhelming my senses with their fair hair and azure eyes. Where was the jet-black hair? These past few months have definitely shifted my perception of “unusual” aesthetics.

On Saturday I made it my mission to lie on the beach and wade in the ocean all day. As a traveler expands their horizons, it can become hard to distinguish one tropical paradise from another, but the islands in Thailand breed a certain island lifestyle that blends seamlessly with the atmosphere of mai pen rai. We met a farang named Stevie who’d been lingering in Ko Phagnan for a couple months. He spent his days cruising around on his motorbike, lying on the beach and meeting as many people as he could. Stevie seemed to gain greater fulfillment from becoming intimately familiar with a small plot of land than he did in the big wide world.


That night, there was a full island blackout, and we clustered in the dining area with candles and Singha’s, wondering if the Full Moon Party was still going to proceed as planned. I kind of enjoyed sipping beers by candlelight in the warm night air. We were still laughing and telling stories: good company is all you really need to enjoy yourself. As we were refilling our glasses, power spontaneously returned and was greeted with luminous cheers.

We kicked off our colorful evening by meeting up with Stevie at a resort aptly called “Greenpeace,” where we prepared for the Full Moon party by painting one another with glow paint. My creative side has recently dried up in light of constant travel and teaching, but I got pretty fired up about painting multi-hued swirls and dots across my friends faces and arms.


We packed what must have been almost twenty people into the back of a truck, and the guys on the end clutched each other for dear life. Without being too inflammatory (dad, I know you’re reading this), I can safely say that every traveler in Thailand is forced make some concessions when it comes to their definition of safety. I wasn’t the one hovering at the edge of the trunk, but I was positive the guys whose legs were dangling above the road were flirting with death.


The Full Moon Party itself was as carnivalesque as I’d anticipated. The entire coast of Haad Rin beach was lined with clubs and bars where live DJ’s spinned a myriad of techno, drum and bass, and electronica. Tens of thousands of bodies, each covered in paint and other vibrant accessories, were swaying on stages and in the sand. Vendors were selling “buckets” of alcohol, and there were various structures along the beach bursting with (controlled) flames. I went down a slide from the roof of a two-story bar, and danced in a club built into the side of the mountain (aptly called “Mountain Bar”), then topped off my night with a slice of pizza—nothing ever tasted so good. I caught a songteaw home late into the evening, and thought about what I’d seen.


The evening was pretty fun and indescribable, but I’m not sure if I can handle such a touristy trip for a while. There were a lot of foreigners, therefore steeply escalated prices. While the European backpackers were mostly friendly, they also reeked of youthful entitlement. Haad Rin beach was absolutely covered in bottles and trash, and I can only imagine who had to clean up the mess. Otherwise, I’m never averse to an evening of covering myself in paint and dancing on an island beach with some of my best friends.


(some of these photos were snagged from my friend Kaitlyn—the ethics of journalism compel me to give credit)