Full Moon Party

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did attend the Full Moon Party at Haad Rin, Koh Phangan, Thailand, in November 2012. That day torrential rain had continued from the previous week, but I resolved that I may as well go, rather doubting I would ever return to Ko Samui, having suffered unending monsoons on the beach, mosquitos in my hut, powercuts in near-deserted nightclubs, and a pickpocketing of my mobile phone by a ladyboy, for some reason strolling the streets at 2am (after spotting it was missing, I returned to find her, lurking in the shadows, and she gave it back).

Slide

I had thought the party a large hippy assemblage, a bit like Glastonbury by the beach, though I myself naturally arrived by speedboat. Passing numerous sellers of buckets of cocktail, I selected one including (in the demonstration display) Jack Daniels and coke. But instead of adding a nice miniature of JD, the gentleman poured an unidentified liquid of similar colour. Since all cocktails taste much the same (except, of course, margarita and frozen martini), I did not complain.

The moon did actually look quite nice, as did the lights across the sea, and the beach had maybe a dozen sound systems playing dance music, and buffed or beautiful backpackers jollying up and down, in a luminescent ink. No hippy was to be seen, and the music varied from a fairly trancy pop to the full-out house. I am not a great specialist in this genre, but I had the impression that the sets were not particularly good, and I am puzzled how it was possible to dance for eight hours to it.

There was a bit of fire-walking, and some people did become drunk, though fewer than you might see in Leicester Square any night of the week.

At the far end of the beach I found a pleasing cabin, I think called the Elephant bar, where one could sit on cushions and drink peacefully, though suffering from drum and bass, possibly the least interesting music known to man, all suffused by the damp and a sweet smoke. After a further stroll across the bay, where I was frisked by another ladyboy, who was this time frustrated by my experience, I settled in a reggae beach bar, which served as a fine refuge for the torrential rain at 4am, when I wrapped myself in gagoul, waiting to return for the speedboat back at 6.

Back on Chaweng Beach, Ko Samui

This involved an hour or two's queue, in which fisticuffs between factions of impatient backpackers was narrowly averted, followed by about half an hour's wait at the other end on a leaking bus with a driver who was waiting for some drugs to take effect so she could sober up. But finally I did arrive safely home to my hut on another damp beach; and it is indeed not likely that I, Melachi, will return to Ko Phangan.