Full Moon Party #3

As most journeys in Thailand begin, mine started with getting robbed for $150 on our way from Chiang Rai to Bangkok. Our bus got into Bangkok at 6:00am. They woke us up, rushed us off, and only after the bus left I realized I was missing 3,000Baht and my iPhone. Well, if that's not a reason to go drinking I don't know what is. The girls and I headed straight to a bar and ordered a beer tower while we watched the sunrise over Khao San Road.

An hour later Becca and our friend Jemma went to check into a hotel while I stayed to keep an eye on our second beer tower and chatted up the table full of men behind us. Turns out one of them was from Oakland, California and had come to Bangkok 3 weeks before and never left Khao San!How absolutely pointless right? Luckily, though this man was a complete waste of time, he happened to be sitting with about 5 lads from various countries no where near America. One in particular was Welsh.

Unfortunately, my memory of the rest of this day is a bit hazy. I'm sure Becca would be able to give a more detailed report on the events that followed or how I came to end up on the island of Koh Samui the next morning (which is a 12 hour bus and 2 hour boat trip from Bangkok).  What I do remember is a lot more drinking, swimming in a pool, the Welshman telling me to come to the Full Moon party with him and his two friends, and waking up sitting on his lap because apparently the bus didn't have any more seats available. When we got to the port there was a discussion of why I had bought a ticket to the wrong island. I guess I missed the part where they told me we were spending two days on Koh Samui first. No worries, that could be fun right?
Turns out I walked into amateur hour. One of these guys got drunk at the lady boy bar, started running in circles at full speed, ran right into a cement bench, broke it completely in half and then proceeded to throw up all over himself. We started calling him Forrest Gump because the minute he had a drink in him he just kept running. The other guy just complained about how backwards and dirty everything was, and when he got drunk he would scream for us to find him a hooker. I'm pretty sure I saw him making out with a lady boy at some point, though he was adamant it was a girl. Don't get me wrong they were all really nice, but had it not been for my week of drunken romance with Wales I would have bailed when we got off the boat.

After a couple days we ended up on Koh Pha Ngan for the Full Moon party. The first night we were there I wandered off on my own and inevitably found myself chatting up 5 Irishmen. Big shocker I know! Once again I don't remember how exactly the conversation went, but something about going to Bali with them was brought up, and then 2 days later I'm booking Becca and I flights from Burma to Bali. Turns out I'm very easily persuaded.

One week of constant drinking, very little sleep, and even less food, done and I'm on my way back to Bangkok to meet Becca and sleep on the floor in the airport. The next morning we flew to Burma. [Side Note: This hangover comes in a close 2nd behind that time in Bangkok when we were trying to get to the Vietnam Consulate and I threw up all over the door of the cab. I could barely keep both eyes open at immigration.] After Burma we had to go back to Bangkok for a few days and I ended up running into 2 of the Irish guys. We never actually met up with them in Bali, but regardless it ended up being the highlight of our 8 months in SE Asia, and had those dirty fuckers on the bus to Bangkok not robbed me we may never have seen it.

Love, Paige

Questions To Ask Before Booking a Bus in SE Asia...

1. May I have a seat in the middle or front? I prefer to stay in my seat when we hit a bump.
2. How many stops will the bus make? If over 10, reconsider.
3. Will the fluorescent light panel above my seat be red, orange or yellow? If so, may I be moved under blue, green, or purple? Preferably black.
4. What time does the bus get in?
5. What time does the bus really get in? 
6.  Will people be smoking on the bus? If so, are there working windows or escape exits?
7. Will the bus drop me off at my intended destination or shall I just pay that hidden fee now?
8. Will the employees on said bus be searching my bags and taking what they please?

Enjoy your trip!

Love, Paige

Made It To KL. May 12th 2011

Our flight to Kaula Lumpar, Malaysia from Barcelona was at 5am on the 4th.  The only logical thing to do was sleep in the airport.  This is not the best airport to sleep in because it didn't have many stores before security, and most importantly and disturbingly, no bar. We got kicked out of the only bench we found that we could lay down in.  I ended up finding a nice padded desk chair in one of the corners to have a good rest.  Yet I couldn't sleep because this lady kept walking by and I am almost positive she was a gypsy after our bags... or our souls. Look I'm clearly not a Nazi or anything... but I hate gypsies.

After our flight we had a few hours to kill before we could check in so we went to the Central Market.  There, we stuck our feet in a pool of fishes who swarmed them and ate our flesh.  We paid for this service.  The room we got in China Town was in a hostel and had NO windows.  I have been after a three day bender with a total of 4 hours of sleep and still not slept in as late without even a slight stir to check the time or go to the bathroom.  Actually I usually wake up early for water because I'm beyond dehydrated due to massive amount of vodka sevens and shots of tequila.  That's besides the point.  We slept in till 5 pm on the 3rd or 4th day we were there with out a drop of alcohol in our system. I always thought a black-out room would be perfect for the weekends or a hangover, but they are not conducive to curing jet lag.  Our time in KL was spent laying awake for hours in the middle of the night, sleeping during the day, going to the mega malls for air con, and walking around seemingly endless outdoor markets in the evenings. One day we did manage to wake up early to go to a sacred Hindu site, the Batu Caves. Overall beautiful, infested with monkeys, ornate shrines, and one hundred and forty two steps to the top.

After KL we headed over to the east coast to a small beach town called Cherating.  Chilling out by the beach and cutting back on the spendage was certainly in order. Yes, I said "spendage". I also have taken up saying "stoked" a bit more than usual, but I think that is expected with the life I'm living. Wait, I have re-read that, and I also said "chilling out". The moment I start wearing those ubiquitous bracelets that all hippie backpackers hoard all over their wrists someone stop me. Just send a mercenary to Asia to cut off my hands. I'm already wearing a bright pink watch and feather earrings. I'm really close to going downhill.

 

Eww.

Love, Rebecca 

Spain, France, and Flashers

We met Claire in Figueres, Spain. Her parents moved to Spain from Armagh when they retired and I can only hope my parents will do the same so I can have an awesome place to crash when I need to save a bit of money. For Easter Sunday we stayed at her friend’s holiday home in the South of France. Twelve hours we sat in the living room and out on the patio eating, drinking, and talking. I have never been so entertained while doing nothing.

After about 4 days we figured we had overstayed our welcome and decided to head to Barcelona. We arrived at 10pm with no map or plans of a place to stay.  Only with a memory of a hostel in a plaza we had stayed in once before. Two hours later we booked a hostel and came to the realization we could not afford to spend the next week in Barcelona.  The next day we headed out to Callela. Luckily, this turned out to be quite the little discovery. Callela is a perfect little beach town  North of Barcelona with bars on the sand, strips of shops, and it’s not over run with tourists like us. We found the ApartHotel Safari on LateBookings.com for about 145 Euro for 5 nights. The room had a sitting area, kitchen, bedroom and bathroom. A perfect little home!

On Saturday we headed into Barcelona to meet Claire for dinner and drinks. After getting ripped off by an all you can eat tapas dinner (we should have known better than to eat on Las Ramblas), we realized that we had missed the last train back to Callela. No worries, we’ll just stay out till 6am when the train starts running. Four hours down, four over priced Vodka 7’s later we tried to get into the strip club next door; not for entertainment purposes but for somewhere to sit. At the door they told us it was 20 Euro per person but we could not get in without a man. Apparently a lesbian couple (not that we are one) cannot enjoy naked ladies without a man to escort us in. Ridiculous! The next day was dedicated to sleeping.  

Monday morning we headed out for a nice pleasant jog by the beach. Halfway down the trail we headed down some stairs to a little cove. After about 15 minutes we headed back towards the stairs.

Scene: Early 30’s Spanish man heading down stairs. Man gets to bottom of stairs, slowly unbuttons pants. Pulls pants down with boxers, lifts shirt up, stands with hands on hip and smug look of accomplishment.

Becca: “We’ve got a flasher on our hands.” Quick turn right and head down beach until he leaves.

End Scene.

One of Becca’s biggest fears is flashers. I have never been overly concerned with them until now. This is odd considering I’ve encountered my fair share of exhibitionists. I have walked past a man in the movie theatre hall pleasuring himself, driven up next to a man having his way with himself in his car, and a flasher stood next to Becca for a fair amount of time at Bay to Breakers before any of us noticed his dick was out. Not to mention we live in San Francisco and any festival or street fair you go to you are pretty much guaranteed to see a penis. This time however has scared me for life. Every time I see a man even adjust his belt now I am preparing for him to show me his junk. I just wish I had thought quick enough to laugh and say “Uno pequeno” and walk right past him up the stairs.

Love, Paige

Things I Miss About Ireland

Four months in Ireland can seem like an eternity. I had an amazing time there, don't get me wrong. I just understand now why there are more Irish living outside of the country rather than in it. This is partly my own fault. Instead of getting a job to fill my time I partied in every village/town I could get to and spent the rest of my time shopping, cooking, and staying in out of the cold. The following is a list Becca and I have composed of what we miss and don't miss about living on the Emerald Isle.

     I do NOT miss the weather. When it's sunny it's gorgeous but those days are few and far between. I do however miss always having a conversation topic. Especially after this past winter. Every conversation started with "It's never been this cold, we just aren't prepared." or "Enjoying the sun today are we? Soak it up, it won't last forever.".

     I do miss Irish butts. I don't know what it is but Irish men have the most perfect butt's. They fit those ridiculous jeans with the weird pockets so well. I do not miss however, the smell that comes out of them. It's gotta be all the Guinness and meat consumption, but that smell is fowl.

     I do miss Irish Mothers. They let you sleep in, don't mind if you were out drinking all night, and have a warmed plate of food just out of the oven and a cup of tea when you wake up. A few of them even folded and laid out our clothes to dry while we were out. There is nothing here I will not miss. Those women are lovely!

     I will miss being "the Yank". To be honest I find my accent to be lazy and boring, but the lads love it. It gets me everywhere. I will not miss having to use the line "Hi, I'm American" in order to start up a conversation with a lad. Someone please explain to me why Irish men will sit, stare, and wink from across the bar but not make a move until they are stumbling drunk?

     I do not miss the effort it takes to get ready at night. I'm from California. I've literally worn my pajamas into a bar before. I wear flip flops and sun dresses. On the occasion I do get all dolled up it's on a Saturday night and that's it. It took two weeks after I left the country to get back to normal and not feel like I needed to have full make up, big curly hair, and six inch heels on a Tuesday night just to keep up with the girls.

     I will miss rashers, dairy milk bars, and breakfast rolls. I will not miss black pudding. That shit is gross.

     I WILL miss my housemates and all the friends I've made there. You were all lovely and I felt more comfortable in your country than my own home town.

Luckily, though we will miss more things than not, whenever we go back to San Francisco we will have our perfect little blend of Irish, California. Until then we will do our best to make our own craic and keep ourselves entertained.

Love, Paige

On the Farm

 I am not sure if this was taken before or after Paige and I were called "lazy Americans" (7x) and instructed by the mother of the house to "get me an Irish woman".  I am also not sure if this picture was taken before or after I was sexually molested by one of her dogs.  I do know this picture was taken on a farm in Ballymac, Co. Kerry.

I know for sure I was not sexually abused by the retriever on the right.  He was a gentleman.  It was one of those cheeky curly haired  Irish bitches. Bending down to get something on the ground resulted in my bare bum peaking out of my jeans. One of these feisty large animals came right up and stuck her tongue, in its entirety, directly down my ass crack. I didn't know what to do.  I had no vodka soda to splash in his face and I wasn't sure if it would bite back if I gave it a slap across the cheek.  Instead we just kind of looked at each other.  I lazily said "no" out loud, knowing it made no difference in teaching a lesson. I only said it because if I stayed silent I would feel like such a whore bag.  Get me an Irish woman, she would have known what to say if some dagg tried to toss her salad...

 

A Wee Town Up North

After London, Paige and I went to Northern Ireland to see a friend.  We stayed in a small town called Hilltown in County Down. That night we went to the hotel bar on Main Street. It may be the only street in Hilltown.

 I have a fascination with small towns. I want to live in one, just for a bit.  I know I could not handle it long, but just enough to get the experience, maybe a month or so.  The reason the hotel bar was open later than normal was because the people who leased out the hotel were having a meeting upstairs with the owners to see if they could keep the place.  This was real deal Andy Griffith shit and I was there for it.  All the wives and mothers were down in the bar waiting to see if the small town folks would get their way with the big wigs.  Someone at the bar actually said I was about to witness one of the biggest historical moments in Hilltown.  The set up was spot on Little House on the Prarie and The Waltons material and I was loving every minute of it.  Well, only if Charles Ingles owned a bar not land and Mr. and Mrs. Walton were getting sauced every night after you heard "Goodnight Johnboy". An hour later the fellas came down.  An hour of waiting to see if the good people of Hilltown can keep their restraunt/bar/hotel where their heart and soul had been invested for years.  This hotel was part of Hilltown and should have been run by the people who live there...  Well fuck if I know any of this but its just what I gathered up from the locals and my imagination while taking back shots of whiskey.  Anyways, they got to keep the place! Fuck the man, up the locals and all that.  The owner had a lock in and a free bar and we all celebrated. Everything all works out, end scene, roll credits, and until next week.... I hear little Johnny falls in a well... but instead of a well it was the back alley of the bar while trying to have a slash.