Freewheelin’ in S.E.A - Day 40: Back to the future

18.11.12

After what felt like five minutes sleep, our 5 o’clock alarm rang. This would be the last time I wake in a bed that wasn’t my own, the last time I have to carry all of my possessions in a half-broken bag, on a half broken back, out of a half-broken hotel, the last blurry Bangkok morning I would witness through hazy eyes. I wasn’t ready. I could’ve stayed for at least a few months more, although I needed to stop living so I could catch up on my adventures. See, the life of a writer is a difficult balance between living and writing. If you're not out living the moments, you will have no experiences to draw from in your work, but if you're doing too much living you can scarcely find the time to get your experiences documented, and you end up with a back-log of life weighing you down as you get around. I'm searching for a happy medium, but think perhaps it can only be achieved with great discipline. I've always been a naughty boy. Exhaling the last of our smoke out of the window I went to get some water from the 7-Eleven. As I returned back down the narrow alleyway, I saw a Thai girl coming towards me, doing the walk of shame from our hotel. I assumed it was my brief neighbour, although it could have been one of many. I gave her a cheeky smile as she approached, one of those ‘I know what you’ve been up to’ grins, and she gave me a friendly little punch in the arm as she passed. I would miss this place.

God was waiting to wish us goodbye

After a few minutes our mini-van arrived and whisked us away from Four Sons Place. One thing I wasn’t going to miss was the crazy driving, as much as I enjoy the thrill of fearing for my life in near-death experiences, ten times a day was a bit too much. Still, the lunatic got us to the airport in good time, we checked in our dead weights and I felt like Atlas, with the weight of the world finally removed from his shoulders. I did a little boogaloo, moonwalk, and electric slide through passport control and boarded the sixth flight of my trip, which would be taking us back to India. I had hoped to spent this time like all the other spare time I’ve had, writing, but my mind was too tired to concentrate on such things and I spent it instead staring blankly at a screen which had some shit film or another  for me to doze along to. Sarah and I were both excited to land in Delhi, secretly hoping that a problem with the plane would mean we had to stay for the day, however, no such luck occurred. Still, we had a few hours in the airport which we’d gone home from a year before and we first visited a store which did free henna so that Sarah could get her hand done again. There was also a guy doing free palm readings, so I sat down with him on a tiny stool, offering my hands as reading material. He took them and then started explaining each line in detail. He said I had two head lines, which is very unique, but also meant that I over think. A running theme in my life, it seems. He said I had a long lifeline which has no breaks, meaning I won’t suffer any big illnesses along my journey. He told me that I’d be lucky up until the age of forty-five, and then I’d have to work harder to achieve what I want. He said that I had good karma, a good balance between hard work and luck, and good creative mercury, but I won’t be satisfied with my level of fame. He told me about the power of stones, telling me that I should try and get a 7 carat emerald on a silver ring and wear it on Wednesdays to improve my creative mercury and gave me a card, offering to guide me in more detail if I ever wished. That’s the second day in a row that I’d been pretty satisfied with fortunes for the future, and both were similar, so I must be doing something right.

Sarah had something on her phone which allowed us access into a fancy lounge where you could have a drink, eat and wait for your flight. Everything was my favourite price, free, so I filled my boots with a variety of different Indian dishes, snacks and a rum and coke, mixed extra strong on my request. Within an hour our flight number 111 was called and we swiftly boarded and got seated by the emergency exits, which is always a blessing for my long legs, thanks to a bit of pre-planning with my friend Johnny who works for Air India in London. Even though I’d just recently eaten, I had a good go on the Indian food that was served on-board, not wanting to miss out on another free meal, although this time I washed it down with a valium, and then edited some of my writing until my eyes grew heavy. I must’ve slept for around two hours and awoke to an announcement from one of the cabin crew asking for any doctors on-board to make themselves known. I felt sad upon hearing that, it was the first time I wished that I’d listened to my Dad when I was eight, and become a doctor. Still, I wrote that everything would be ok and it was written. No further alarm.

DUN-DUN-DUR-DUR JET! 

Our wheels bounced down on the ground of London town, nobody cheered as the pilot told us that the temperature was 2 degrees centigrade. I stepped off of the plane feeling positively buoyant, almost giddy, which could be put down to my lack of sleep, or the knowledge of the present I had left myself at home. No more expensive twigs, only the most darling of buds. We navigated our way through baggage collection, then customs, where I stopped at their ‘anything to declare’ section to declare that I love Sarah, before making our way onto the tube. I sent a message to my best friends to let them know their boy was back in town and was delighted to received a reply from Mike, reminding me that we had tickets to see The Dandy Warhols that Thursday at an underground club called Heaven, which to me sounds more like a cunning trick by the Devil to attract people to Hell. It was amusing to witness London’s tube culture after forty days away, until I ended up having to shout at two naughty teenage French boys for constantly trying to open the door of our moving train. ‘Ain’t nobody got time fo’ that’. We didn’t have time for anything other than getting back to Bethnal Green as quickly as possible, and everyone else smiled at me for telling them off. It was the first time in a long time that I’d acted like an adult. I didn’t like it.

It was freezing outside and we couldn’t face waiting for the bus with our bags, so we took a taxi from Bethnal to our Hackney home, which I managed to haggle, still in holiday mode, and arrived through the door of our expectedly messy manor to cheers from our housemates. Henry, Pete and Damien were gathered in the living room and welcomed us back with huge hugs, Henry throwing his stinky bag of skunk at me, which I immediately rolled into a homing missile and aimed directly towards my lungs. We spent an hour with our family of friends and then made our way upstairs where a big hot bath was waiting. We both climbed in together and lay in the heat watching steam hit the ceiling as the knowledge that we were no longer travellers with the world at our feet started to sink in. This automatically made mine itchy, but that’s to be expected, you cannot stay on the rollercoaster forever or you’ll never know what it’s like to queue, the anticipation of excitement is half the fun, and now was the time to anticipate the future. I knew that I had much to be getting along with, at least three books worth of material to release, music to finish working on and a script or two to finally write, once I’d transferred each days’ worth of memories from this trip onto page.

Although it could be looked upon as the end of an adventure, I still have a mountain to climb and with the support of my best friends, lover and all of my fellow Freewheelers, I’m certain I will overcome everything before me.

THE END. THE BEGINNING.

Freewheelin’ in S.E.A - Day 39: Sex, Shower, Spliff

17.11.12

We slowly rose at 10am, chucked on some clothes and headed straight to Milano the tailors to meet Sanjay. On the way there I was stopped by a plump Indian fellow who wore a blue turban and we started talking whilst Sarah was checking out some dresses at a market stall. He told me that he was a fortune teller and could see into my future. I’d wanted to see a fortune teller for quite some time now but had yet to get the chance, so I gave him a few minutes of my time and listened carefully to what he had to say, sceptically seeking signs of fraudulence. He first asked me to think of a colour and guessed blue correctly, probably quite easy to implant, if you know what you’re doing. He told me that December 21^st 2012 (the date of the supposed end of the world) would be lucky for me, and that my aura would be cleansed. He asked my date of birth and told me that I wasn’t born on a good day for me, but I’d live a long and healthy life until I’m eighty eight years old. Jesus. He told me various other things, like I’d soon have a new job, I’m a peaceful, happy man and I have a clear temple but I think too much. No shit. He told me that I have good karma and would become successful and famous. He was trying to get me to pay him about £20 for a full reading, however, my funds were all but spent and I doubted Sarah was willing to fund it and then wait, so I thanked the man and went to meet Sanjay. We walked in to see a maroon pair of trousers hanging there, in the same colour I’d chosen for in the jacket, however we’d asked for black trousers and this little error worried us slightly. Sanjay apologised and I ended up saying I’d take both colours as they looked nice and I got them cheaply. The jacket was dropped off shortly after, but I was in no rush, talking football with my new homie until it arrived. I tried it on and he marked out the exact fit and length I wanted, and then off we went to grab a quick bite before returning to our hotel for the beautifully alliterated combination of sex, shower and spliff.

We jumped into a cab full of creepy crawlies which took us back to Chatuchak market, where I’d been twice before, once with my hostel crew and once with Sarah. We spent a few hours running around, spotting so many things which we wanted for our imaginary future home and haggling our way around, getting lots of nice bits and pieces at knock-down prices. The pick of the litter was a carved wooden elephants head with a lamp light framed above it, which shines down upon the dark brown head and the elephants on either side. Sarah also bought a traditional puppet to go with the ones we’d bought in India and we also got more little gifts for friends and family. With our money now drastically disappearing and the night sky settling, we headed back to Khao San road, went into our room to try and pack everything we had into our bags, and sparked up a cannon as the Arsenal match kicked off on the TV. Tottenham scored within a few minutes, our former player and general scumbag Emmanuel Adebayor putting one in, but unlike last time, he didn’t run the whole length of the pitch to celebrate in front of his former clubs fans. In a fantastic turn of events, he was swiftly sent off after a horrendous tackle on our genial midfield man Santi Cazorla, and we got a goal back shortly after. Sarah and I had to go and meet Sanjay for the final fitting, so we made our way out and down in the elevator. As we walked along the alley there was a guy standing at the end, eyes closed and hands to the skies in a salute to whichever God he worshipped. I smiled at him as he came back to Earth and he looked up and said “Ping pong show?” I laughed at the contrast between his actions, and gratefully declined. He said “Are you London?” In a sporting mood I replied “Arsenal” and he said “Ahhh, 1-1” referencing the score which I was unsure how he was aware of.

Sanjay said the jacket was coming and took us to the outdoor bar nearby, ordering pints for the three of us. We sat chatting, watching the score-line increase as the ten men of our Tottenham rivals struggled to deal with the constant attacks, and then he shot off back to his shop, which was still open and attracting customers, leaving us there awaiting his return. The game finished 5-2, a perfectly happy ending to the trip on the footballing front, now all that was left was my suit. It was getting really late but I trusted Sanjay, and I was right to, because despite the delay, my tuxedo style maroon jacket with black lapels and black trousers both came back looking and fitting like a dream. He was a little more expensive than the original guy in Phuket, but worth every penny of the still minimal price for a tailor-made, bespoke suit. We both thanked our new friend and bid him farewell, returning to the gauntlet for one last stroll. Sarah’s remaining money was burning a hole in my pocket and when I came across another elephants head, this time a bejewelled version which had been painted red, I told her I had to have it. The salesman was deaf, but it didn’t stop him from whacking huge sums into his calculator, and me replying with low-ball amounts at the other end of the spectrum. I think I got it for around a quarter of what he started on, my final haggle of the holiday. We got a couple cheap shopping bags to take as hand luggage and returned to fill them with the last bits which our cases couldn’t take, and stuff for the flight home. Sarah fell asleep with ease as usual, but I struggled, it was too early for me. I rolled around on the bed trying to get comfortable and as the bottom sheet rode upwards I realised that it wasn’t just the pillow which was covered in a leathery feeling plastic, but the mattress too, which left me slightly puzzled. I heard footsteps in the hallway and the slam of the door next to ours, then within a few minutes strange noises. At first I thought it was a couple fighting, but a few moans and multiple pained groans later had me left with little doubt that there was some hardcore fucking going on. As furniture banged and screams rang out along the corridor, the purpose of the plastic pillow and bed finally made sense, the room was spunk proof, and the hotel was in all likeliness probably a low price haven for whore-mongers, who had no care where they sprayed their jizz, as long as it was being sprayed. The bed grew even less comfortable, but thankfully it didn’t last forever. Once my neighbour had seemingly stopped smashing his lady to pieces, I was happy to get a couple of hours shut-eye before our van to the airport arrived. I guess at least my day ended with a bang.

Freewheelin’ in S.E.A - Day 38: The beginning of the end, again

16.11.12

Peace be with you, and a side order of fries.

In every story, there comes a point which can be defined as the beginning of the end. This is that part, rolling slowly into Bangkok at 4.30am surrounded by smog and dark grey skies, which were slowly becoming lighter shades of the same dull tones. Gone were the beaches, gone was the sunshine, gone was the time, and we’d soon be following suit, getting gone, from here to there to still remain, in-part, everywhere. We’d planned to wind down over the next two days, do a bit of shopping and run a few last minute errands, but first, we needed a place to stay. We sleepily exited the bus and got straight into a taxi which took us to the Khao San road, where I’d spent an entertaining evening on my second night with the gang from the Lub D hostel. I went to find a decent place to spend our last nights, and after checking out two terrible looking joints I found one in a small hotel called Four Sons Place, which seemed clean and neat, bright white walls, black wardrobe and desk, flat-screen Tell Lie Vision and an en-suite wet-room, for roughly £13 a night. Done.

By the time we’d headed out for breakfast it was 8am and we sat in a big, quiet bar/restaurant, watching the last men standing from the night before, still boozing at a much busier pub across the road. There were a few Thai girls hanging around and we sat amused as a chubby, chavvy, bald dude practically begged one of them to come back with him, before getting into a small disagreement with some other leftover guy that she was making eyes at. I assumed he’d been buying her drinks there for hours, and now in the still light of morning, she just wanted to go home alone. You wouldn’t have blamed her. Before we did anything, we needed to snooze, broken bus sleep leaving us still shattered. We slept away the morning, swimming a bit more steadily into the afternoon. I’d found the name of a decent local tailor online and wanted to inquire into the possibility of having a new suit thrown together for me in the same style as the one which the tailor fucked up in Phuket. I walked in and was greeted by Sanjay, who assured me that despite the time constraints, it was definitely do-able. He measured me up again, as Sarah again gave clear instructions and we were again assured that it’d be fine. We told him of the last place and how they’d not listened and he promised all would be perfect. It turned out that Sanjay was a massive Arsenal fan, and I excitedly chatted with the first fellow follower I’d found in a while about current form and our oncoming derby against our arch-rivals Tottenham Hotspur. I asked him where it would be shown on TV and he said ‘everywhere’, but that he usually watches it at a nearby Irish owned bar. I said I’d probably join him there tomorrow and he told us to return at 10am the following morning for a first fitting. It turned out that Sanjay and his co-worker were Burmese, which automatically excited Sarah as she had set up and led an Amnesty International group at university and based her whole fashion collection on the Free Burma campaign. She asked if he would write something in Burmese which she’d wanted to get tattooed for a few years but didn’t know any Burmese people who could translate it, and after some deliberation he handed her back a piece of paper which apparently read ‘Freedom for all’ in his native script. I asked him if he knew of any areas or markets which were more Indian based as I wanted to search for some new princely robes, and he told us to go to the Phahurat market to find what we seek.

Damn WRITE!

It was nearing 5pm as we were dropped off by our tuk tuk Tony, and rushed into the market which would soon be closing on a mission to find their sexiest Sherwanis, which I get taken up and wear as shirts, and there seemed to be a good few planted around, but nothing perfect. We walked into an outdoor market section which all seemed to be packing away, and found a stall which had a few I quite liked after trying on. I opted for a black one, which had a tunic collar, a body of beads and fancy embroidery. I managed to haggle the tired looking Indian Mama down to the reasonable price of around £20. It would’ve been half that in India, just like everything else, but I had something nice to add to my collection of evening and stage wear. Obviously I don’t wear them to bed. We went back into the market and found another shop which had some in a display cabinet. I looked through loads and liked a few, but she was going crazy on the haggle front, starting me at something like £80 each. I opted just to buy one, explaining that my endless pot of imaginary money wasn’t so endless, or imaginary. She understood, but I had my heart set on a deep dark red one with a shimmering paisley print woven into the cloth, sporting a collar and embroidery that only a Prince could pull off, and I was rocking it royally. We managed to get her down to £40, and Sarah said that she’d treat me to it for Christmas, which was handy for the both of us, as good presents are often hard to come by and you rarely end up getting something you really want or need without asking. Happily skipping out and past some more shops along the outside Sarah saw a sign which said ‘Masala Dosa’ and nearly had a heart attack. A masala dosa is a south Indian crepe, traditionally filled with potatoes, onions and various spices, cooked to a crisp and served with Sambar, a curry-like side dish and coconut chutney. They are delicious, and pretty hard to come by. We rushed in with tummies turning in anticipation and were not disappointed, being shot straight back to New Delhi on first bite, our last night there, which was very similar to today. We thanked the owner, gave our compliments to the chef, placed a good tip with the pittance we’d paid and left them with love. Namaste.

Masala Dosa and a happy customer

Next stop was a loose end which needed tying up, so we headed to Silom, first taking Sarah around the night market, which is bang in the middle of the red light district, getting some odd bits and pieces to give as gifts to folks back home and somehow getting lost in the neon Jungle. I could’ve sworn I knew those streets like the back of my hand, but in all honesty I don’t know the back of my hand very well at all, and it showed. After walking for what seemed like an age in the night time humidity of this sweaty city, we came upon a place I remembered, and then the woe was over. I entered the building where my journey began, and greeted the guy on reception fondly. It was he who recommended the museum of the arts to Brady and I on my first proper day there, and he let me into the luggage storage room where I’d faithfully left my Mac jacket and Chelsea boots after swiftly realising that they were surplus to requirements. I dug them, safe and sound, from behind a load of cases on a shelf, signed it out and thanked the guys, wishing them many blessings.

Buggin' Out

Finally our days work was nearing an end, and we hopped into a tuk tuk so Tony 2 could drop our tired bodies back at the Khao San Road, unfortunately, he dropped us at the wrong entrance, meaning we had to walk all the way down to the other end through a gauntlet of tourists shopping the night markets, and boozed up revellers stumbling around, to get  back to our hotel room. Perfect. The noise pollution on this street was ridiculous, at any one standing spot you could probably sing along and dance to five different songs, with a football stadiums worth of chanting and shouting over the top. There were people everywhere on this street, where the seedy underworld entwined so flawlessly with the seemingly innocent, creating a vibrant mess of civilisation building itself up and knocking itself down simultaneously. I liked it. There was a good vibe. After twenty five minutes of fighting through various opponents, we reached our sanctuary. I started my ritualistic writing, and after another of my days immortalised on page I became hungry. It was the barbeque meats we’d walked by on the way back, they always get me. I hit the streets on a solo mission, up and down between stalls to score a Pad Thai with chicken and squid from one street vendor, and a pineapple shake from another, returning to my lady with some tasty eats for the equivalent of £2 in total. We scoffed the lot, Sarah passed out, and I continued with my consistently expanding memoirs until 4am, when I rested my head on what seemed to be a plastic covered pillow, which I recycled into a cloud and floated off on.

Gauntlet of goons

Freewheelin’ in S.E.A - Day 37: Dead and Breakfast

15.11.12

Our breakfast dining area

I jolted upright in our huge comfy bed and quickly jumped out. There are few things that can make a man act this way upon waking, one of which is an all you can eat breakfast, which is exactly what we had coming. I looked out from our balcony and heard talking, so I knew some of the others were already down in the poolside dining area. I shook Sarah like an excited kid does to his mother on Christmas morning, throwing clothes at her, then rushing downstairs to have my hung-over hunger satiated. James, Andrea and Taijahna were already seated at a round, rotating table which had a variety of cereals, croissants, pastries and juices. One of the staff on hand came straight over to take our order and we asked for the full works to help steady our heads. A few minutes later and we were delivered plates with sausage, eggs, bacon, hash browns, mushrooms and toast. Half way through I asked for more bacon and hash browns, which were cooked up swiftly and brought over as I continued to gouge away, adding various baked goods to my plate. Richard arrived looking slightly faded, with a fresh faced Aimi beside him, then the bride and groom arrived, wearing matching robes that had their names embroidered in the back, which the resort had made especially for them. We sat chatting and admiring our beautiful surroundings, wishing we could somehow stay there for longer, but we only had the place until 4pm so we returned to our suite to make the most of the big bath, and sat soaking, staring out across the sea in a state of bliss.

The view of Heaven  from down on Earth

As much as I enjoyed the comfort of staying in such lavish dwellings, where everything is taken care of and everything you need is to hand, I couldn’t help feeling slightly like an imposter, like a hobo that had drunkenly stumbled through a back door and somehow ended up being served dinner in Buckingham Palace. I’m sure most of this places guests didn’t stroll in with over-stuffed back packs and joints hanging out of their mouths, but what can I say, that’s how I roll, no need to put on any airs when you’re already flying. So fresh and so clean, clean, we fell together onto our bed and christened it as the most expensive bed we’d ever had the pleasure of making dirty, proudly rolling around and making the most of it, before our forthcoming evening spent trying to sleep in a bus seat all night. We packed most of our stuff, then returned to the poolside, where Alexa’s mum Karen and her brother Easton had joined us to swim and sunbathe for the afternoon. Sat in paradise, catching rays, is definitely not a bad way to waste a day. Unfortunately the sands of our hourglass had all but fallen, and a cab arrived to take Sarah and I to the bus station. We thanked Alexa and Hayden, wishing them all the best for their honeymoon and said goodbye to our temporary family of friends, whom we had both greatly grown to love. The doors closed, and we were on the road again. After forty-five minutes we reached the bus station, bought two tickets for the night bus to Bangkok, then waited an hour in a little cafe getting some cheap, local grub from a serve yourself buffet. Our bus was ready to depart at 5.30pm, and we boarded, leaving our bags stored below. We amused ourselves doing arrow word puzzles until it became too dark, then I spent an hour or two tapping away at my keyboard, still ascending the mountain which you’ve been reading, until I became tired around 9pm. I popped a valium and it knocked me out. I was shaken back to life around midnight, as the bus jolted me upright in my seat, so I popped my second helping and faded back to black. An off switch to life is a tempting thing to have, however I’d tend not to opt for such an easy way out if I wasn’t stuck between two narrow chairs for 12 hours. Either way, needs must, and they worked a charm. No harm.

Relaxing beside our own personal infinity pool

Freewheelin’ in S.E.A - Day 36: Love is in the air. The air is everywhere.

14.11.12

The sun rose in the east and planted a kiss upon the chest of the westerly moon which was stirring in the sky. I opened the curtains and space disappeared, making way for wedding bells to ring. We grabbed our growing sacks of crap and chucked them on our backs, marching in the boiling heat towards the bride’s hotel. The sun was shining for them and we were thankful that it had chosen a good day. We got to Alexa, who was chilling out in her room and seemed like she didn’t have a worry in the world. She had her wonderful husband to be, her friends and family, and we were all in a tropical paradise, so I suppose it makes sense that she was like that, however I thought I’d get to see some stereotype of a bride panicking about her hair or shoes, or cake, or veil, or dress, but no, nothing. She was cooler than an iPhone 6 wearing sunglasses and a BOY London baseball cap.

I went off to find a place where I could print the poems which I’d written for Alexa and Hayden, as they’d asked me to read them later on at the wedding. Once sorted I went up and down the roads trying to find the cheapest quote on bus tickets to Bangkok for the following day but had no joy and gave up, returning to the girls who were dancing around the room listening to a DJ playlist on my iPod called ‘Music to make girls dance’. Perfect. Our cab arrived and we were whisked away, bidding Patong beach farewell as we made our way out and up along the coastal road towards Phuket town. For their special day Hayden and Alexa had hired a five-star luxury villa at a place called Andara resorts, along the west coast of Phuket on Kamala beach. Just driving in was like entering another world, a palatial building with black marble floors and warm wooden walls, beautifully decorated and dripping with class. A vast step up from the wooden huts on the river that we’d enjoyed three days previously. The villa they originally wanted, number twenty-four, was unavailable, but the owner of another had agreed to let them rent his for the wedding. There were thirty villas which increased in both size and bedrooms as their numbers got higher. We were in number thirty. Pure swank. After thirty five days roughing it, and a whole life mostly void of the fancier things, I was looking forward to seeing ‘how the other half live’, as were Sarah and Alexa. From the moment we walked in, people were there on-hand for whatever was needed. I left my maid of honour with the mother of the bride to take care of Alexa, and carried my own backpack towards our suite, I always feel too bad to let one of the little locals carry it as I know how heavy it is and I’m bigger than them. We jumped in a little car/buggy hybrid and whizzed up a driveway which wound around to a big gate. The gate opened and I walked along the pathway, towards a staircase. I was led by a member of staff to a great wooden door which slid open to reveal a beautiful looking room with a king sized bed, which had two towels folded and twisted to resemble a pair of swans which together form a love heart sitting on top of its plump looking duvet, a huge flat screen TV, wooden floors, wardrobes and ceiling, a sliding door which led to a balcony, two sinks, a wet room and the biggest bath I’d ever seen, which I immediately started running. It had been five weeks without having one of my beloved baths I was ready to freshen up in style. I rolled myself a jazz cigarette and sat out on the balcony, looking across at the Andaman Sea in all of its deep, blue glory as the sun shone down upon it. The bath was taking a very long time to get full but luckily I had every goal from the most recent premier league football games being played back on the wall, which was an adequate distraction. I asked one of the workers for an ironing board and iron so I could smarten out my garm’s and did my first bit of ironing in three years. It was still a waste of time. I then called reception and asked them for the wireless password and was very surprised to discover it was ‘ZION8888’, leading me to believe I was in the holiday home of some powerful religious zealot.  I daren’t lay on the bed or mess up our pretty swans until Sarah had her chance to witness the room, before it gets Dionified with my upturned bag and general spreading of crap, but I waited for a good half an hour, making myself busy until the huge bath was finally run. When I got to it, the water was ten times hotter than it was when I’d left it, so I then had to start adding cold. Unfortunately time was running out, everyone was meant to be downstairs by 4.30pm and it was already 4, so I had to get into the boiling hot bath and have the shower head constantly cooling different bits of my burning body and slowly lowering the bath temperature. It was a disappointing situation to say the least, but I don’t think a wet Dion running over half way through the service smelling like bubble bath would’ve been a viable option, so I hopped out, had a cool blast with the shower then got dry and ready in a matter of minutes.

I left my towel by the sink, along with my hair stuff and a brush, then rushed downstairs to be greeted by James and his gorgeous little girl Taijahna, and Hayden’s brother Darryn, who is a professional photographer and was snapping pictures of them and some other guests, awaiting the arrival of the bride to be and her entourage. Within five seconds the heat took its toll, even in the late afternoon it was sweltering. They had the walkway set up so that it led onto the infinity pool, where Hayden and Richard were stood, having a quiet exchange with the minister. Hayden was in very good spirits, as ever the superstar Superman, but you could see a few nerves as he cracked jokes and paced around, waiting for the love of his life to arrive. I saw Aimi, and asked if I could join her, since both of our partners were on duty with the bride and groom, and we sat together getting increasingly excited at the beautiful scene. Then some movement started, people positioning themselves for the oncoming arrival of the bride and Darryn running towards the gate to get some snaps. Next came the music, and I looked down to see the bride making her way towards us, with my lover following behind smiling. They both looked gorgeous, tip toeing over scattered flowers until Alexa met Hayden above the pool and they looked at each other with such love, and readiness. The ceremony started and the Australian minister who was leading the service very casually started reeling off facts about  the meaning of love, Greek gods, and some other stuff that seemed to have everybody a bit lost as they sat admiring the brides stunning dress, she looked beautiful and he handsome, the perfect match for this fairytale. It came time for the vows, which they’d written themselves, and they did not disappoint, both making such heartfelt dedications to each other, promising the world in such a way that you’d have to believe they will receive it. It was too much for Aimi and I, sat there crying our eyes out at the lovely display.

If it wasn’t for this moment, so many moments would have been missed. My journey was only decided upon because Sarah and I were invited to witness these two spirits come together, and without that, none of the experiences I’ve had would have happened at the time that they did, and never in the same way again. I was grateful they’d given me the excuse to see some more of the world and escape London for an extended break, and this magnificent scene was the culmination of Everything.

They each had a glass of sand in a different colour and a larger empty chalice in-between them. They lifted their glasses, simultaneously pouring their sand into the new container, joining their separate lives together in matrimony as the sun lowered behind them. The groom kissed the bride, the bride kissed the groom, Aimi and I cried some more and our other halves signed the witness declaration, then returned to our loving arms, where we all gathered to throw flower petals at the newlyweds. After a half an hour of photographs with everybody, whilst knocking back constant glasses of champagne, it was now dark and we were loaded into two vans and driven out of our villa and down to the nearby beach. We were each given sky lanterns, which we lit, and let go after making wishes for the bride and groom, then watching them as they quickly rose, slowly disappearing from sight. Back at the villa, dinner was served, and it was out of this world, a buffet of numerous fancy dishes, of which everything tasted divine. Soft shell crab, fish, prawns, various meats, curries, the lot. Some of the best food I’d ever eaten. There was even somebody on hand at our table who kept filling Sarah’s glass of water every time she had more than a sip. To say we were well looked after would be an understatement. I popped back up to our suite quickly and was amazed to see that in the time I’d been away somebody had come in, replaced my wet towel and placed my hair stuff on a small towel, neatly by the sink. Blew my mind. If I’d known they were that good I would have jumped on the bed earlier, when I had time to burn waiting for my bath. Back downstairs it was time for speeches, Richard went first and nailed the best man speech with ease, lightening the already bright mood further with tales of his and Hayden’s past drunken adventures and saying some genuinely nice things about both bride and groom. Alexa’s Dad followed, seeming very happy and proud at his successful, lovely daughter and her new lovely husband, and Hayden’s father put in a good turn too, cracking everybody up just like you’d expect an Australian Dad to do. I was up next, and took a minute to explain how much of a powerful blessing it is to witness true love such as theirs, and how I knew they were on a good path for the future, because they have something very special between them. I then read the poem I’d written a few days earlier whilst on the long-tail boat in Khao Sok, followed by another which I’d written prior, which went:

'Something special here is found, four feet floating happily above the ground,
we gather celebrating the love they’ve made, which grows a little more from day to day.
With those two rings, you’ve become one, your love burns brighter than the sun,
together, safe when harsh winds blow, you’ll warm each other through the rain and snow.

We all know that whatever the weather, like birds of a feather you’ll stick together,
under each other’s wings you’ll fly, two souls becoming stars that light up the sky.
Live for one another, until the end, and cherish every day you spend,
be strong, united, forever stand, you can take on the world when you’re holding hands.

We’re here to witness true love combined, creating something that’s divine,
so kiss the bride and kiss the groom, let pride and happiness fill the room.
We’ll toast your future and your past, share this joy and raise a glass,
whilst you dedicate your hearts to each other’s lives, as Alexa’s husband, and Hayden’s wife.'

Believe it or not, in 35 days of travelling, this was the first time anybody had asked me to read something. Considering it’s what I do, I did find that a bit strange, and a bit of a shame for them, but I didn’t ask any office workers to send an email for me either, so it’s fair enough I suppose. It was an honour to have been asked to take part, and it went down perfectly. Two of my best friends had gotten married earlier in the year and they had the groom’s auntie read some horrible piece about doing the housework and shit, instead of getting me to write one for them, which I didn’t really get, but perhaps he was worried I was going to expose our history of mushrooms and weed to his unaware parents. Nevertheless, Alexa and Hayden followed me, thanking everybody for travelling across the world to join them and then BOOM out of nowhere the guitar and saxophone came out and they started doing a duet, Alexa’s delightfully strong singing voice accompanied by a backing track whilst Hayden strummed a few numbers and made his way around the saxophone in a virtuoso fashion as we all danced along and cheered them on. It was brilliant. After a few songs the P.A broke, so we switched over to a playlist for the rest of the evening. We were steadily getting through the drinks as we sat around chatting, and at 10pm Hayden informed me that he’d just had to pay a small fortune to hire the staff for an extra hour to continue serving us all the free drinks, and we had an hour to get our monies worth. Game on. Sarah and I repeatedly took it in turns to get each other glasses of vodka and orange, which we’d swiftly take in the elevator, one floor up, to the fridge in our room. By the time the hour was over, we had at least twelve glasses, as well a few beer bottles and ten shots of tequila, which I had one of the waiters measure out for me before they left. As our numbers depleted we were left with just those who were staying at the villa, Hayden and Alexa, Richard and Aimi, James and Andrea, Darryn, Sarah and I. Hayden pulled out his guitar and strummed away as we all sang along to ‘Killing me softly’ by the Fugees whilst Sarah rolled up some confetti, before getting into our swimsuits and diving into the pool for a late night swim. It was weird being in such a place after all the staff had left, the whole villa was truly our playground and we had a great time knocking back shots and hanging out together. The guys asked if I’d read them some other poems of mine and I delivered ‘The Ballad of James Tanner’ and ‘The World of the Day’ which they all admitted enjoying more than the lovey-dovey, family friendly pieces from earlier.

Musical matrimony

A well-stocked fridge

By this point it was 1am and we went into the games room. It was another huge space which had a pool table, a ping pong table, another huge flat screen television (a feature in every room) and its own kitchen, complete with popcorn machine. I excitedly tried to work out how to use it, and found a can of unpopped corn, as well as all the salt and boxes to put it in, the only thing I couldn’t find was a can opener. I looked all around for one but no joy. I refused to be defeated, looking at the can again, and then I realised that it wasn’t made of tin. I grabbed the only thing I could find, a biro pen, and came down upon it with a stab, like John Travolta in the overdose scene in ‘Pulp Fiction’, tearing a hole in the side of the can. I ripped it open and got the machine popping, and within a few minutes, we were all munching on some salty goodness as we shot pool and listened to The Beatles. Darryn was off on one and kept disappearing on solo missions, running around the huge empty villa and returned telling us how he’d done a few naked laps in the pool. Unfortunately on his way back he’d smashed his foot on a step, which had left his little toe sticking outwards away from the others, clearly broken. He seemed pretty confused by it, and said “Cool, I’ve never broken a bone before”. Sarah went off to get our first aid kit and I joined him in his room as he was feeling queasy at the thought of her bandaging it, and needed to be sick. I stood with him, and his vomiting made me need to do the same, so I emptied a ridiculous amount of sympathy sickness into the toilet bowl too, drastically lessening my forthcoming hangover, before joining him on the bed to be bandaged by Sarah. We returned to the others to find the bride laid out on the sofa, sleeping like an angel as the groom and best man noisily attempted to play ping pong in their inebriated states. As the clock struck 4, there could be no more, and we each made our way to our bedroom doors, wishing each other a good night’s sleep after an amazing day. Cupid stayed awake, watching over every room, feeling successful in his work.

Busted

Freewheelin’ in S.E.A - Day 35: Early rising and happy endings

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Freewheelin’ in S.E.A - Day 34: Underwater Angels & Jesus in Space

12.11.12
I was walking through a desolate city. Nobody else was there and the buildings were deserted and crumbling. Abandoned cars were scattered all along the low bridge that I was crossing, but there was a certain serenity to the chaotic scene. Everything was calm, like being out in the middle of a sea without waves. I peered over the side of the bridge to look into the water and saw my lover, laying in a shallow pool fifteen feet beneath me. I noticed her hands clenched around her throat, her legs kicking as she struggled and realised she was trying to kill herself. In an obvious panic, I immediately dived head-first into the water and arrived at a new day.

Now I don’t know about you, how realistic your dreams are, or whether you remember them at all, but for me, what I see is seen and often remembered as realistically as any other memory would be. Sometimes even realer than reality seems to be. Because of this, I could be excused for not really feeling the ‘vibe’ for anything other than getting over what I had witnessed. Despite this, Sarah and I headed to catch the final rays of an overcast day after waking up still drunk at 1pm, hitting Patong’s white sandy beach, a thriving spot for merchants who come by every few seconds doing their rounds to all the tourists, peddling everything from cans of 7up to wooden hands. There was nothing I wanted, except escapism, so I swam into the awaiting Andaman sea. The sea is where I want to end up. I know part of the sea is within me, just like Everything else, but I look forward to giving myself to it completely when I disappear, to remain still here. After some distance, I reached danger, as a bunch of loons riding jet-ski’s seemed to be heading incredibly near to where I’d set my target. I turned and hurriedly swam back to shallower waters, where I floated around with my arms stretched out, like a crucified Jesus in space, bringing my mind back to its positive centre.

I returned to Sarah and the ‘Steppenwolf’ and spent a couple of hours reading more about the books’ intriguing protagonist and his attempts to understand the world around his routine existence. Sarah decided that it was imperative that she got sausage and mash in order save her insides from creating a black hole, so we made our way back to the bar we’d had breakfast the previous day. On the way, we walked past a tailor’s which had a sign saying ‘2 suits for $79.99’. Always in the market for a bargain, I entered and we were swiftly sat down, our swimsuits dampening the owner’s red sofa as he loaded the table in-front of us with books featuring the collections of all the top designers. As always, Sarah’s skills in this field left me in good stead to get what I wanted made well and she explained everything in detail to the Indian owner, who assured us of how professional and experienced he was and how he guaranteed it would be great, whilst taking my measurements and talking to his colleague. Then came the pricing. What the sign didn’t say was that the advertised price only covers the making, and you still have to pay for the material on top. After a few ridiculous quotes and some subtracting of items, we agreed a good price of roughly £75 for the suit. Forty-five minutes later, with Sarah slowly fading away we left the tailor and got some grub, which replenished both body and mind with its simple homely Englishness.

After a few hours laid up in the comfort of our lovely Kamilla, entertaining each other as we always do, we then had to return to the tailors for the first fitting at 9pm. We needed the suit before we left for the forthcoming wedding, but they told us at the time that they have a very quick turnaround when needs be. After being sat waiting for around twenty minutes a tired Thai tailor arrived on a motorbike, chucked a strange looking rag of the maroon material I’d chosen over me, then chalked markers onto the shoulders before whipping it off of me and running away. The owner told us to return and collect the jacket the following evening, and then disappeared. We left and found an Egyptian restaurant, so stopped by for barbequed kebabs and hummus to finally rid us of the remaining poisons of the previous days. I was settled in the wake of the storm, and sat writing as Sarah slept. ‘300’ was on in the background, and as I rested my eyes I hoped that my Spartan compatriots would join me in my slumber, just in case the demons reawaken.