Every day on Koh Samui is the same as the last, always ending with drinking cocktails because to quote my best friend Nat “there’s chuff all else to do” She has such a gentle way with words; on one occasion even describing her Grandmother as a gobshite.
I don’t know what pigeon-hole we fall into, We’re like a married couple in some ways; Mr and mistress perhaps? What’s the male equivalent of a mistress? We’re not boyfriend and girlfriend though sometimes it feels like it. When I arrive anywhere without her, everyone asks “Where your girlfriend?“ I’ve pretty much given up telling people that we’re not together, but when we do they give us a sly wink as if to say “Yeah, right” Then we explain some more but we always doth protest too much. We won’t end up together, that thought fills us both with horror… All I know is that she has become very dear to me.
I forget the order of events and days but one day we rode 20km on our bikes to a waterfall that wasn’t there, trekked over rocks for 20 minutes and sat on said rocks for another half hour. If it weren’t for the relentless heat making me sweat and Nat glow plus alien flora, fauna and noises they make we could have been at Lydford Gorge on Dartmoor, Tarr Steps on Exmoor or Kirkby Lonsdale in the Lake District. We tried to work out if the thing below our feet was a freshwater crab (unlikely) or some kind of armoured, venomous water spider (much more likely) Birds chirruped above, swifts swooped spectacularly for flying ants and all the while cicadas made a din reminiscent of a high-pitched pneumatic drill as they repaired their insect highway for two lanes of giant red ants to carry tree branches in their mandibles off into the distance. With Peak District girl leading the way, we hopped jumped, skipped, and precariously ventured around difficult rock formations, sliding back out of the forest until we sat down for a soda water on some steps before working out that there was a path leading to the waterfall. Although it was hotter than the sun, Nat galloped off up the path while I sat puffing Marlboro Menthol Lights… I watched the local children play hide and seek with a JCB digger as base. Then they played a game involving a kid (the fat one, naturally) being blindfolded by a group of older boys and having to feel the air around him to catch them. While he was stepping around cautiously, the other, more spritely kids hit him with ping-pong bats and sticks. Some things will never change; this is childhood, not PS3’s, texting and fingering.
At least I think it was playing, though thinking back, blindfolding a morbidly obese child and hitting him with sticks could have been the worst case of bullying I’d seen since we covered Heddwyn Aled “Taffy Wanker” Jones-Brown with dog poo and tied him to the top of that poplar tree in the fifth form, thus creating a shitty Welsh totem pole.
Like the opposite of an Edwardian child, the waterfall was heard but not seen. We turned round and headed home; the sun setting mercifully fast behind us and my bike’s back wheels sliding beneath me all the way home, deathtrap that it was.
Another night, in our fave bar we watched youtube videos of dogs wanking themselves off which wouldn’t normally make a boy and a girl horny, but this is Thailand and normal rules don’t apply… On tour and working away people state an oft used phrase, in this case it would be “What happens on Koh Samui stays on Koh Samui” but again, the rules don’t apply when you’re with a blog-posting comedy writer.
If you were to ask the best sites I’ve seen on my travels yet I would rank them like this:
Bronze, The reclining Buddah? No. The Emerald Buddah? Big Buddah?
No. The constant sight of a 22 year old girl looking so goddamned serene on her scooter in my left rear view mirror
Silver: The Grand Palace Bangkok? Nope. Guess again; The sight of a naked 22 year old girl bouncing up and down on my rooster inches from my face. Yes.
And in Gold place… well that’s for me to know and you to find out (your first guess was right, girl)
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