In Ipoh, the Malaysian businessmen gave us a lot of beer before our Thai-bound overnight journey. The VIP bus did not, however, contain a bathroom. Much to our dismay, the bus driver refused to stop for the first hour, whereupon our kidneys were screaming in pain like five-year-olds on a road trip. Fidgeting nonstop, it only took but a second for us to jump off the bus, semi-coherent, and relieve ourselves at the first bathroom break.

We proceeded to get swindled in Hat Yai, when buying our tickets to Koh Phangan. I left my ATM card in the machine following the ride, took a shower at the travel agency, and then we paid for an express ferry ticket that didn’t exist. Some other travel company shuttled us off to another location and put us on a four-hour long ferry that sucked the vivacity out of our tropical island destination. We were unaware of the ferry’s duration until I asked the lady selling snacks for 1000% markups. I lost about $10 for all that it was worth.

Upon arrival at “party island,” we actually managed to find a decent, cheap bungalow in under 20 minutes, record breaking time. Considering the overwhelming anxiety spewing from the mouths of fellow passengers on the ferry of getting a room, we soon realized it was all talk. Exhausted from transportation, I ate a large portion of chicken fried rice and fell asleep. The morning provided some interesting surprises.
Our bungalow, situated on Haad Rin West (Sunset Beach), lay in the heart of mini-Tel Aviv. Every single passerby was chatting away in Hebrew. This baffled me. Signs for restaurants, shops, and advertisements were written in Thai, Hebrew, then English. Eventually, some Israeli asking me a question simply mistook us for fellow countrymen. Embarrassed, he quickly realized his mistake, but I spurted back some Hebrew. This was great and we started hanging out for a little while. When he found out we were from America, he became ecstatic. And then he asked if we had ever been to North Carolina. Shocked, I struggled to explain that I was from Raleigh. He loves North Carolina, especially I-40, and he even knew some local radio stations. I don’t really like I-40 or the radio stations, but this was incredible. He worked as a driver for the Dead Sea Scrolls when they came last year, and knew the area perfectly. When I told him I went to UNC, he knew exit 273A. Small world.

We took off from the developed part of the island in the morning, arriving at Koh Ma, apparently the spot to snorkel. A bit skeptical at first simply because we wanted to go to Bottle Beach, which I had read was the best beach, we compromised on Koh Ma because it was about half the distance. Taking the advice of the cab driver turned out to be a fantastic decision. The beach was really nice, but there was good food, cheap snorkeling gear, and an incredible reef just a five-minute swim offshore. The contrast between the reefs on St. John in the US Virgin Islands and in Thailand was sharp. Spilling with life, my mind experienced a visual overload. Remarkable.

The Full Moon Party is basically this place where thousands of inebriated people dance on the beach.

After recovering from the party, we went to see the waterfalls of Koh Phangan. At the first waterfall, there was no water. We expected to find water at the larger, more prominent waterfall only to be greeted by a ranger smiling and confirming, mai mee nam, (there is no water). Using our imaginations of the steep sloped rock formations bursting at the seams with water, the waterfalls were fantastic.

Koh Phangan provided all sorts of entertainment, besides the island’s drunken stupor, only in Thailand could you wake up hearing Thai, Hebrew, get breakfast and get offered two menus: The Thai menu and Israeli menu.