On New Years morning, I should have been, like most of you, working on a hangover. Maybe still fast asleep or kicking an LB out of bed claiming that was the last LB due to a new resolution. I however, was heading to Koh Samui. I wasn’t quite sure why we needed a taxi, as Miss Tim assured me that Koh Samui was just at the end of soi 4. She lied.
After getting over the initial shock that I was no longer in soi 4, we scuttled through the airport without causing any arguments or fights, which is unusual for me. Maybe I have mellowed?
I am not sure how long the flight was, as we both fell asleep the moment we sat in our seats. I should have asked someone sitting near by, as there was not a hope in hell of any of them sleeping whilst we snored.
I’ll not give you all the details of the trip – just the highlights. I can’t have you changing your opinion of Miss Tim now can I?
Samui airport was not what I was expecting. Silly me to expect a conveyor belt that works, for luggage to make it from the plane to the belt in under an hour, for people to read the sign that stated DON’T PUT YOUR FUCKING TROLLEY right next to the luggage belt.
After some reassuring words from Miss Tim, promising naked relaxing situations, I soon calmed down enough to barge into only a handful of Arabs whilst swearing at them and trying to goad one into kicking off.
Following advice from the Information speaker, we headed to the Taxi counter. As did everyone else from the plane… and the following plane and another plane before that. Three plane loads of people wanting a taxi, that had no concept of queuing. If there is one thing that Brits are good at, it’s queuing up patiently. If there is one thing the rest of the world is not good at – it’s queuing. After lots elbowing, sighing and generally looking nasty, we made our way to the front, got a taxi sorted and were on our way within minutes. Pretty painless. The cab ride was only about 15 mins at a cost of 200bht.
We arrived at Samui Island resort. My 1st impressions were not good. I had set the bar at the Samui Resort as seen at the start of Hangover 2. I was in for a shock. For starters, I didn’t expect to have to need a 4×4 to get from the road to the hotel. The road had more holes than a Nigerian hookers tights. Our Kingsize bed turned out to be 2 separates and the sea view was only possible had I not stop growing when I was 14. Not a happy bunny.
I wanted to check out the pool, as the pic on the website looked pretty o.k to me. This was when Miss Tim told me to stop being such a fool to believe the internet. Having thought about it, it’s not often the truth is posted. Miss Tim told me that when she worked at a previous hotel, many of the customers would complain about the website showing a lovely pool. I asked if the pictures on the web were not quite the same in reality, to which she replied… ‘there was no pool’! Love it.
Anyways… the sky was overcast and the sea was choppy. All the ingredients needed to make a wonderful sight… well, not so wonderful. It was then I decided that we should find another hotel. But 1st, we should punish the hotel people and give them something to clean up – so we set about spreading my DNA all over the place.
We stayed in a placed called Chewingum or something sounding like that. Just down the road from Lamb-Eye – or something like that?. Once finished with the DNA spreading and we could walk once again, we headed into town for a little walk to find another hotel. This is where Miss Tim speaks the voice of reason to me. She reminded me, that apart from passing out in the room and waking up there, we were not actually planning on spending much time there – so what’s the point in moving hotel, especially as this one was already paid for? Fair point.
Plus, that would leave more spending money for essentials, like shoes, handbags and make-up. I could even buy Miss Tim something also.
So we stayed put at our hotel and set off with an open mind.
After 17 hours of walking, we came across a bar/restaurant called ‘Top 10’. I wondered why its was so named ‘Top Ten’ but after we drank the low alcoholic beverages and sampled the pathetic food portions, I have now placed it in my Top 10 of places never to visit again.
The food portions were so unbelievable, that we had to laugh. And laugh out loud. Prompting others nearby to laugh.. which lead to the staff laughing. After 3 spoonfulls of soup, my bowl (saucer) was clean. I made sure I didn’t leave any on the spoon as there was not enough to waste. We check-binned and left. That’s the 1st time we’d left a restaurant feeling hungrier than when we arrived.
Miss Tim likes fish. Well actually, as she is Thai.. she likes all food. But mainly fishy stuff. If you like fishy stuff, then you are gonna be happy. EVERY restaurant seemed to have a big fish on display out side much to Miss Tims approval when choosing an eating house for the night. I like a steak so we had to troll around a bit to find one that did both. Not too difficult.
One of my pals from NYC told me to get myself to the Best Western hotel for a spot of dinner one night. Amazing views and amazing steaks. Sounds good to me. Off we set one night for a bit of lomance.
The problem with eating at night.. is there is not much to see. Just darkness. Surprisingly, there were only 2 other diners that night. Anyway, as there was a little rain coming down, we sat inside and hit the red wine. Steak was ordered.
Not too sure from what animal the plate of meat came from, but it wasn’t what I call a steak. Roadkill would have been more descript.
We were not impressed. After a retreat to the bathroom to make room for more wine, I was horrified!!! The place was a mess. A urinal was full of piss and pubes, one of the sinks was full of dirty water (plug clogged up) and there was toilet paper on the floor next to the bin. Not what I was expecting from a Best Western. If this was the Best Western, then I’d hate to see an Average Western.
The bars –
The bars along chewinggum high-street were pretty packed out each night. I guess that’s where its all happening. We had a little trek up chewingums version of walking street and found many bars with no customers at all. Jeez, if you think the mango be quiet some nights.. it’s nothing compared to these places. Really.
One thing Miss Tim and I noticed, was that each time we had a shot or two (we like shots) they didn’t taste too strong. Now, I know there are a few things you can do to make a shot taste strong when it actually isn’t. At the Mango, we don’t employ those tactics, so we know how a B52 should taste. Samui had failed us!
Each bar we visited was full of holiday makers (and why not?). All sunburned, wearing vests, covered in tattoos and chugging on beer. And that was just the women. I can’t say that the over crowded bars full of farangs were a pleasant place to be.
It just so happens our old mucca Lomeo was in town with his Juliet. We called him up and met for a beer or two at a little beach bar called ‘The Bikini Bar’. It was done up in Rasta colors playing Jamaicans finest tunes. Not sure why they call it the bikini bar? Beers and spirits go down well in any establishments – especially at the beach. Same can’t be said about the food. Miss Tim and Juliet went halves on some bloody sea monster, Romeo had what looked like an Ostrich kebab which looked nice and I made the error of ordering the burger. It looked o.k, it was just the fat and grissle that that was inside it.
One night, after drinking a bottle of champagne, we thought we’d head out and see what the gogo situation has to offer. It was terrible. If the tourists that visit these, never visit Bangkok, then they will go away with a wrong image of what the gogo’s are about. The girls here were skanks. Overweight, ugly and none too friendly. As per the norm, Miss Tim and I took to the empty seats that were along side the stage. After a few minutes, we were joined by a bunch of tourists that were sitting on the back benches. They were getting brave. After a few minutes, a service troll came over to us with a basket of ping-pong balls and asked if we wanted to buy them. I told her to shove it up her arse (thinking this was patpong). The ‘tourists’ each bought a couple of baskets (between 6) and handed out a ball every now and then. They were treating the balls as 20bht notes and handing them out every now and then to a girl. It was painful to watch. But more painful was watching their faces. The guys would be looking anywhere in the bar – other than at the girls on stage. As they knew that their gf was watching where their eyes were watching. But neither of them thought the other was on to them. Sad.
Miss Tim purchased a basket of balls… and then chucked the basket up in the air and watched them all go mad. The tourists watched in dis-belief, but did’t take the hint. The place had no atmosphere so we check-binned the hell out.
We hit the beach one morning and took swim in the sea. The water was pretty clean but the beach was filthy with fat Arabs eating corn. Corn on the cob? Since when did that become a beach snack?
Just walking about in the sea, mucking around in waves was a work-out. We couldn’t keep still long enough to have sex without getting washed upto shore.
After hearing all those scary stories of jet-ski hire rip-offs and innocent people getting killed, we thought we’d have a go. 1000 for 20 mins or 1500 for 30 mins the sign said. Twenty should be enough. There isn’t that many people in the sea to run over. The jetski’s were a blast. If you’ve not ridden them upto 55mph and hit a wave and taken off and crash down crushing your ball sack then you’ve missed out.
At night, we had a romantic stroll along the beach. I say romantic, we wanted somewhere we could walk and fart without killing the people in the street. About 54 hours into our walk we came to a rather swish looking place called The Library, or The Page.. or the Book, or something related to books. It looked pretty nice and on the beach front bar they had set up some big bean bag type seats. Basically you sat on them, stared out to sea and got drunk. However, as it was pitch black, for all we knew, we were probably looking at a car park.
Boat and water stuff.
There was a boat trip advertised which we thought would be a bit of an adventure. 2500 each for the day. The bus picked us up at 8am, which meant we had to get up extra early to stuff our breakfast down our necks. Not enough time to dump it out as the bus arrived early. This was going to be a problem.
At the boat place we met the ‘team’ and headed to our boats. A light breakfast (orange juice and a 7/11 sandwich) was included in the package, although Miss Tim and I spent the quality time in the toilets getting rid of the previous breakfast. Tip… If you are in the crapper and there is no bog roll, don’t kid yourself into thinking there maybe some clean stuff in the bin next to the shitter. There never is.
A forty min speed boat ride saw us get to the snorkeling site. Along with 6 other boats. Nice. There were more swimmers than fish. Didn’t see many fish, but did manage to put my feet in several peoples face who swam into me. Too many people by far. They should at least stagger their times.
Off again on the boat to the National Park. Walked up some mountain and saw some truly breathtaking sites. One of which was a couple of Russian girls taking glamour shots of each other with the islands in the background.
Back to the boat and then headed for lunch and then the kayaks. Lunch was a Thai in the form of Green Curry and rice. And some other stuff that I didn’t know what it was. All the fat holiday makers tucked in like there was no tomorrow. Judging by the state of some of them, maybe they didn’t have a tomorrow.
I asked the only Thai person out of about 200 people what they thought of the Thai food. Miss Tim replied that it was shit.
Next up was Kayaking. We watched everyone else from the other boats get on their kayaks and fuck off. We asked one of the tour guides who looks like he is auditioning for Pirates of Samui but he just shouted at us all and pointed to nowhere. After 20 mins our tour guide appeared looking a little tired. My money is on him having had one off the wrist at the thought of the Russian girls.
After a few instructions, we all grabbed a boat. I told Miss Tim to stand back as I am a professional kayaker in my spare time and would show her how to embark the canoe. I leapt onto it, fucking over and falling out the other side and hurting my foot. I can still hear Miss Tim laughing.
Kayaking was fun, but bloody tiring. Especially as we were racing everyone we saw. Stupid. Everyone fucked off to some cave. We headed back to have a little swim and rummage through everyones belongings whilst they were in the cave.
By 4:30 we were back at the hotel – feeling like we’d been beaten up by Mike Tyson.
Being a biker – I was keen to get on two wheels. We choose one of the 400 bike hirers and got ourselves a nice little Honda Click. 250 per day and they wanted my passport. I offered up my advanced motorcycle license but they were not interested or impressed. I later found out that handing over my passport was probably not the smartest move, as most people don’t. This was worrying, especially as we had forgotten where the bike hirer was located 10 minutes after we sped away.
Biking is fun, other road users are mad and I find it highly amusing buying gasoline in a lemonade bottle. The bike was a life-saver for us – but I can see a life taker for others. Why was I the only one wearing a crash helmet?
After a few days, we decided that we would take a ride around the whole Island one afternoon so I grabbed the chance to upgrade the Click to a PCX that I had seen outside our hotel. We returned the Click and retrieved the passport. Not going to make that mistake again. If you plan on doing any riding in Samui, I’d recommend the PCX. Soooo much more comfy than those other nasty little bikes.
Riding round the island took about 3 hours. Mainly because we kept taking wrong turns and Miss Tim was wanting to eat fish and other monsters from the sea. The PCX was 400 per day, but worth every penny.. or baht.
The trek back
Now, as it was the 1st week in January, all flights were fully booked. Not good. The only way to get back to Bangkok by a certain time was to fly from Udon Thani. Or something sounding like that. This meant a taxi ride at 2pm to the ferry. Hop on the ferry to Thani. We then boarded a coach that Walters Grandfather used to ride when he went to school and then had to get in a pick-up truck for an hour to the airport. Amazing. Some people actually prefer this route to save a few baht, but we worked it out and it was no cheaper – and it takes up most of your day! Never again!
I found Samui to be absolutely beautiful looking AWAY from. Standing on the beach, looking out. Great.
We had a really fun time. But then, that might be due to us laughing at everything and anything.
Booze doesn’t seem as strong as in Bangkok, food is plentyful, but hit and miss if to find a good place. We chose to return to the restaurants that we found the food to be good.
Don’t go there looking to hook up with a girl. Take one with you.
Deffo go on an excursion on the boats… amazing views.
Would I recommend it? Yes. Would I go back? Not sure. Now that I know there is life outside soi 4, I’ll probably visit another island.