Departing Koh Chang

Journey to Chiang Mai

Broken boats, Long beach

"I ordered you a healthy baguette to take away!" Do calls to me from the reception desk at Oasis. Her cheery dimples, coupled with her blonde curls give the impression of a very tall Dutch doll.  

The mini van is coming in fifteen minutes and I have just got out of the bungalow and still to find money to pay my bill. The van comes in ten and I clopp heavily down the hill with my giant breakfast sandwich to meet the wheels coming to take me away.

Rewind to six days before.

"I think you're going to enjoy it more than you realise" I say to Dad as the Songthaeuw takes us to Blue Lagoon cookery school.

"Hmmm, cooking is all work for me..."

"Yeah but you get to eat it today!"

Hawker, Khlong Prao

This is how I have stayed on Koh Chang for three weeks. One week getting to know expats, ten days concentrated dose of estranged parent and five more for my birthday party/hangover languor. Seriously, this place is magnetic and it's not just the parties. For those of you who don't know about Elephant Island, it's the second biggest in Thailand, has served as a station in wars during the twentieth century and has only become a traveller outpost in the last twenty years.

Like the monkeys that cling to it's jungle fringed hills, backpackers come from all over and do. not. leave! I nearly became one of them, and could have quite easily if certain factors of reality weren't pulling me back from a self inflicted reverential malaise. Read: too many hangovers to be bothered to book a ticket and deal with twelve hours of travel. Sound familiar?

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 As I stand on the ferry, watching the 'Welcome to Koh Chang' sign grow smaller while I rip in to the enormous ham, egg and cheese focaccia, complete with Dutch mustard mayo; I recall some factors other than drink that pull you back to this island. The sense of community among long-termers paired with some fantastically energetic Thais working in the bars night after night. The people organising beach clean ups who truly care about the island. Then the elephants that want your help or the divers that show you how to dive without disturbance, the tattoo you WILL get because let's face it, you're on Koh Chang, or the myriad of Western, Asian and Thai restaurants to keep you excited. And not forgetting beach sunsets where clouds

turn a blue sky to a pink purple and orange fluffed up sheen.

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Sunset, Lonely Beach

We speed away from the port in the packed van, a decent portion of me wants to go back to the place so easy to belong to. I hope I make the flight, but I know someone back on Koh Chang who hopes I don't and come back, which is nice. 

My grumpiness over leaving is compounded by a desire to avoid the usual small talk and not throw the remains of baguette at the maniacal driver. Ahem, "My name is Lucy, I come from England, I'm 28  and here is a list of all the countries I've been to. Go!" How many best friends are you really going to make on a mini van to Bangkok? And this is strange for me to say because of how many times I've had the conversation about being friendly to people. 

"You never know the opportunity you will miss".

children on swings, Koh Chang East

The Blind date format of making friends gets tiring really quickly. Information exchange on the road is inevitable: names, ages and passport stamps, but does it have to happen immediately? Whatever happened to natural conversation?

I digress. 

 With every swerve in to a blind corner whilst overtaking a truck, my  enormous breakfast sits a little less pretty. I officially hate the driver. On the other hand, Northern Thailand finally awaits and I know I'm going to kick myself for leaving it so late. Don't get quagmired in Koh Chang, everybody does.

 I finally make it to the plane, after being dropped at the wrong airport, being shown the sights of Suvarnabhumi airport (by the way it’s actually pronounced 'Serwanaphoon' to keep you on your toes Ferang!) on the free shuttle bus and a cross city tour of Bangkok to make it to Dong Muang with an hour to spare. She pushes back to the runway so I may trade new friends for old ones at my next destination and my thirst for flights is satiated once more as the sun sets a powder blue in to whipped cream clouds. I am genuinely sad to go, but I must, for dear reader, I have crap to do. A blog to write and start making money off, a course to finish, some waterfalls to conquer and bucket lists to tick off. And a liver to de-bloat.

Pier, Long Beach, Koh Chang