Mr.BJ would you like to hear about the night I picked up 2 "Oscars" ? (and I'm talking about the genuine, true blue, ridgy-didge authentic Film Awards)

It was a bit embarassing as I forgot to thank my Mum & Dad..

Mr.BJ would you like to hear about the night I picked up 2 "Oscars" ? (and I'm talking about the genuine, true blue, ridgy-didge authentic Film Awards)

It was a bit embarassing as I forgot to thank my Mum & Dad..

I most certainly would, like to hear about it LK

I got deported from England once.

I got ejected from my own 21st B/day party!

I was in a train wreck in Mexico once.

I got kicked out of the Cub Scouts, but became an Eagle Scout anyway

In high school I was part of the student gov't....I was the Chief Justice of Traffic Court. I appointed some of my friends as Justices. We were the most corrupt court in the entire history of the school. Out of about 5,000 infractions issued we only processed three!!! I was asked to resign about midway through the year so I did but I remembered the combination for the lock on the box where infraction slips were submitted so when my friends got reported I just unlocked the box and threw away the tickets!!!!

Chownah

I tried my hand at making silver jewelry. A hippy had a rock he had found and polished and he wanted a pendant made from it...it was an irregular shape....I told him I could do it for ten dollars. I spent time every day for over a month figuring out how to best mount it on a silver backing and then executing the design....I charged him the agreed upon 10 dollars...it was actually very very nice...almost stunning...a bargain for sure. I could see that doing made to order custom jewelry probably wasn't going to be my thing so I decided to just "do my own thing". I laborously made several little constructed silver art objects and when people saw them they always asked "what is it?" and "what is it for?". I had to admit to them that I really didn't know but weren't they neat?....and the always agreed that they were well crafted and unique and one of a kind but if I wanted to make jewelry why didn't I make rings or pins or bracelets like everyone else......I didn't have a good reply to that so I would just smile sheepishly and roll a joint.

Chownah

Soome good one's there.

Chownah, why did you get deported?

I got deported from England once.

I got ejected from my own 21st B/day party!

:classics to be sure!

I promised Boobiejangles ages ago that I'd add my own.

I feel something creeping up today, perhaps...

Shall go and put on a pot of coffee first though.

Jumped out of a helicopter into a waterfall.

Lassoed a buffalo from a helicopter.

Crashed a helicopter.

Alright boobies:

Here's Part one: :D

Left home aged 15 a guitar-slinging dope smoking heavy drinking rock'n'roll wannabee. Heavily inspired by Dave Gilmour and Pink Floyd.

Moved to the town of Floydian inspiration: Cambridge.

All went wrong and ended up feeling very uninspired.

At 17 moved to amsterdam where I had ups and downs and good.exciting jobs (earning next-to-nothing for a hel_l's Angels dude and his ex-prostitute wife) and bad/boring jobs (earning massive money for a yank-based ad agency) and fulfilled all my green-smoking desires.

Aged 20 followed a random very pretty girl into a travel agent. Didn't get her number, but I did get a ticket to Thailand out of it.

In Thailand I fulfilled the first of the major dreams I never knew I had: Got involved in a brand new resort on (Then a mostly untouched) Lonely Beach on Koh Chang and lived the exhausting yet exhilirating dream of managing it for about year and a half - watching the resort become more and more popular and (sadly) the beach becoming so also - as a direct result I believe. I would always love it when I guest would arrive from wherever, and tell me that they weren't planning on coming this way, but when they were in Chiang Mai/Vientaine/Angkor/wherever, somebody told them about our beach and it compelled them to come this way.

One of the resort owners from the northern near-neighbour beach KaiBae started developing other projects on our side and had a number of boys who'd been kicked off of Pa-Ngan working for him. These boys were pretty uncontrollable Ya-Ba using pricks who started causing us a lot of trouble and one night they started fighting with our guests.

Myself and a couple of other guys intervened the story is here below:

The leader of their pack -who'd been absent- was a bit more sensible and rational and came and spoke with us the next day. He apologised and said he'd try to keep the boys in check.

Oh Look, here's a story I wrote back then:

A Special Night on Lonely Beach

The moon shone brightly, but only a sliver of it showed in the star lit skies.

There were a dozen or so shrimp fishers out that night, their lights reflecting sharply off the waters into the horizon.

People milled around as we were setting everything up. The speakers still hadn’t arrived, but I had faith in Tor, and he would turn up sooner or later. The barbecue was still being constructed, but everything we needed lay ready to burn next to it, or ready to cook in the kitchens. Our cook, Anchan, had started preparing yesterday already. Mountains of iron prongs filled with pieces of chicken, beef, shrimp, assorted vegetables. There were big buckets of potato crisps ready to be taken out, the fridges were full, the ice-boxes leaking everywhere, and it all just looked splendid. When Si wasn’t serving or helping her mother in the kitchen, she’d be blowing up balloons, and putting up streamers. The girls who’d volunteered to waitress, Nam and Mat, were putting the finishing touches to a banner we would hang up later. The music was being donated by Thai tourists and multi national backpackers left right and centre. Mini-discs, C.D’s , cassettes. Some people had removable storage devices, with thousands of songs on them but regretfully, we had no computers.

Super Noot the Carpenter was busy dragging small logs out to the beach to use as benches and to burn, where we had a built a pit for a fire that had been such a contentious point.

Beach fires are a pain to clean up. Charred, blackened wood and ash goes right into the sand-bed and sticks around for years. I had to vow that I would have it cleaned up before seven in the morning before they would agree to let me do a big bonfire in the middle of the beach. On the extremities of the beach and all along the water line we planted posts with gas candles on them. That water line was going to rise during the evening. Super Noot and Tos were going to be looking out for them, as would Bill and I, making sure they didn’t decide to un-root themselves and drift out with the currents.

I had finished setting up the DJ table overlooking the beach at the front of the terrace and had just carried in some tables to have a little secret bar near the equipment - Ice box within two paces and I was happy – when a pick up pulled up, bouncing and dipping over the sand dunes, beeping it’s horn. Dark green, The Nature Beach Truck! In the back were two of the biggest speakers I’d ever seen. I smiled a big open smile and looked over at Tor, who’d just gotten out. Tor looked back and grinned, before running to the back, where I joined him and with a few tourist recruits, after plenty of struggling, we finally managed to get those bloody things in place.

They were absolutely massive.

We placed one on the outer corner of the restaurant, a little high, projecting out over the beach and another on the other outer front corner. With the right winds, the music would melt down over the beach like a warm exhilarating rain. The banner was being raised by the girls by the time we’d finished testing the amp and speakers, so I ran to help. I am tad taller than most Thais, you’d never guess.

The banner raised, the barbecue was being lit, the grill was being scrubbed down in hot salt water. The chicken was broiling, the eggs boiling. The dogs of war were ready,

***

The dinner had been advertised from seven onwards. Sunset would have been ending, people would have had pre-dinner drinks, and they came early for the “first come, first serve” buffet.

Bill - an eccentric canadian long term guest came by and stood next to me, pouring himself a fresh glass from my bottle. He had only his bright yellow bermuda shorts on, and his peroxide was wearing thin.

“Time for a trip to Tony & Guy’s in the big BKK, Bill?” I grinned at him, raising my glass.

Blatantly ignoring my snide remark, “Look at that!” Gazing out over the beach. “I’ve not seen that many people here in all the time I’ve lived here. What are you doing to Lonely Beach, Chris?” he said, in half-mock despair.

“It’ll be a good one tonight Bill. Thanks for all your help, with everything. Your beers are ont he boss’s tab tonight my friend!”

“Which one?” and before he could elaborate, he laughed, “Khun Piat, or You?”

“Oh, no! Me jus’ ‘umble worker my flend,” in my too common mock Thai and laughed.

He was still looking out over the beach and after a moment or so said quietly, “It barely sunset, and we must have over fifty people already sitting out on the beach, drinking our drinks, watching the sunset. That my dear Chris, I guarantee is our daily revenue requirement with plenty to spare right there. We could take it all down and close for the night, satisfied. Let’s. We’ll go back and smoke a doobie or two.”

“It’s quite tempting actually, Bill. This day has taken more out of me than the past two months. Alas, not tonight, my friend. This will be like a pleaasure cruise through paradise, with perhaps a smattering of the more entertaining aspects of the underworld. How could we possibly refuse?”

“Yeah. It’ll be a laugh. We’ve got to be careful, though. We can’t be having these too often.”

“Oh-no! No bloody way are we turning this into Koh Pa, Bill. Why you falang think I clazy!!”

“The Jah Bar boys will be interested in this you know.” He said to me.

I had actually thought about them rather a lot. I knew that they had already taken a dislike to me. The boys could never have guessed that I would be staying here for a longer time, taking attention away from them.

A couple of them were chilled about it – though they declined to comment - but two guys were pretty worked up about it. Lucky and his older brother. Their ringleader was sitting on the fence, perhaps wisely.

It was rather neat and tidy. Siam’s boy waiting on the sidelines, and his four boys split evenly.

And just as I was about to speak, I cut myself off and said what I was seeing instead, “Speak of the devils.” And they came in and falsely shook hands with me, and muttered hellos to Bill and the staff. The boy, Lucky, seemed hyperactive but cool. His small eyes bulged. They sat down at the one remaining table we had on the lower terrace bordering the beach and ordered our newly advertised wine. By the looks of it they were not going to open their little dive that night.

The time had come to kick it off.

We had briefly tested the speakers somewhat amateurishly, but all appeared to be in good shape. The amplifier Tor had brought in was in good shape, I had two temporarily donated mini-disc players, two CD players and a cassette player, and a broad range of music on all formats. The sun was by now out of sight, the western skyline a rapidly darkening blueish mass, and I kicked it all off with Lou Reed’s ‘Perfect Day’ for a laugh. At the end, I said briefly over Tor’s microphone, “Welcome one and all. We’re counting on you to make this Lonely Beach’s first and very best, my friends! Tonight we create history. Happy First Birthday Nature Beach!”

Fifty odd people all had stood and called out, “Happy Birthday!” and pauper that I was, I felt like a prince, on his way to collect the throne. I looked out over the people, their faces lit by the warm glows of candles and fires and lights from the resort, just under the roof-line of our new chill out Lounge – we wouldn’t want to spoil the camera shots with the spartan arrangment we’d mustered – where we’d hung the strobe, globe and six lights we’d managed to beg off a resort in White Sands.

I kept the music chilled through the first hour, letting people eat with background music, Buddha Bar or Cafe Del Mar stuff, and then couldn’t resist ‘Burn the House Down’ on the Tom Jones Compilation, before then kicking off some dancing in the four Israeli girls who were remarkably beautiful & cheerful and seemed ready to go, so I set off a compilation medley MJ’s ‘Off the Wall’ classy disco, before tearing it out with some recommended unnamed mini-disc’s that were pretty heavy going.

A bit too Pa Ngan, but hel_l, it allowed me to sit back and relax, while people kept ordering more food and drink.

It was a spectacular success for about three hours. The place buzzed like it had never seen a bee and was making up for lost time. We regularly patrolled the beach, dancing with the farang, picking up trash. We planted makeshift stakes with trash bags on them. Not too many, but in obvious locations. Two a few meters either side of the fire, a couple here and there. We picked up bottles and carried them to my makeshift bar, into empty beer crates. The Jah bar boys sat there most of the time. A couple of them would get up to dance and letch over farang girls every now and then, but they kept ordering more wine. A bottle is six glasses, and the five of them were pouring out a bottle every round. Thankfully, they drank slowly. We had only six bottles, it was expensive and they were on a ‘neighbourly credit’.

Three hours and five bottles into the proceedings, the boy, Lucky, got up, jumped over the little wooden barrier of the terrace, and ran off onto the beach. He picked up an empty bottle and cracked an australian guy’s head open. The guy had been here yesterday for dinner with a group. I hadn’t had time to much speak to him as it was peak time, but he seemed friendly enough, here alone but with a travel girlfriend.

For no apparent reason he did this, and before I knew what was happening, another australian - friend of mine - Jem was rushing out past me to the beach and wrestling Lucky to the ground. I followed without a thought, and helped him. He started dragging Lucky away. I called over to the group gathered around the tourist and asked if all was okay. Somebody muttered, “Yeah, we think so.”

Jem and I dragged Lucky, really dragged him, all the way along the beach. Over the little channel Lucky mostly fell in the water, and started struggling against us, saying about going back, going back, man! I recall taking some happiness in gripping his filthy dreads in my left hand and yanking his miserable body up out over the embankment of the other side of the channel. We dumped him in front of the bridge that goes back up the hill to the Jah Bar and Jem said he’d take him from there. I felt quite relieved to be going back to the resort.

All in all, ten or fifteen eventful minutes had happened at the resort by the time I returned. Bill was strongly but ineffectively arguing with the two JB boys remaining. Some people had drifted off, but most still milled around.

The music was on, but now it was Thai Disco pop. Every chance they get, the little rascals.

I looked around for the Australian guy, but a tourist came up to me and said that he’d gone back to his bungalow. His head had been bleeding a bit freely, and he thought it best to call it a night, but he seemed alright, she told me.

The broken glass had been picked up by some tourists, Asst Manager Mam was trying to intervene between Bill and the boys, Noot, Tos, and Tor were watching with their ever omniscient dark shiny eyes. I walked up to them and asked what was going on.

Supernoot answered, “Jah Bar not pay wine. Bill say pay now.”

I walked over to them. “Alright guys. Bill, thank you. Boys, one bottle with the cashier, and the rest will go on credit for now, deal?”

They agreed after a feeble protest, but it was a valid offer. They walked off saying, "Thanks for the great fight. We’ll tell everybody all the good fights are at Nature Beach.”

By god!, I thought to myself. Was that their motivation for instigating this?

NB: The young Australian was taken to the nearest mainland town the next morning - Trat - airlifted to BKK and then flown home for emergency treatment. His head was slashed open.

The food had been plentiful after all. I vaguely recall having a little left over. I think we did a corn on the cob special the next day. It went down well though, as did the beers. We eventually ran out of Chang. Why did we all drink that shit? We still had a box of Singha and two of Heineken the next day, Tor had to rush off to the mainland in the morning for an emergency stock-up.

The kitchen was practically empty. We had just enough food for breakfast and a little fish and veg was going to come in from BanBao, for lunch. Four of the girls were cleaning everything out; The plastic fridge boxes and ice boxes first, followed by knives and cooking utensils, then pots and pans, and finally the metal grills themselves. The kitchen was practically emptied out and Anchan was frying up orders on the makeshitf grill we use to boil water on out back, with the one remaining ice box next to her and the portable work table on her other side, with most of the sauces and condiments in boxes at her feet and strewn on plastic chairs. The lady we all called Mémé was wiping the counters, and Mot was mopping away at the concrete floor. We should really put lino or something down, one of these days, i thought obliquely.

It was on this resort that a regular returning guest of mine insisted that I should try my luck with the women and be a bit more confident. This, after I'd rejected his advances multiple times. He didn't get the fact I wasn't shagging around with everybody and therefore thought I was gay.

Well... I became a right slag as a result. And so achieved some other life-long ambitions : Sleeping with three women in succession on one night... another night having two in my bed together... even trying games like "around the world in eighty shags"....

Aged 21 by now, and a whole lot more confident.

A Day in the life of a beach bum

I awoke as the invisible sun starting spreading its rays over the low hills, to the east. Rising over the jungle to the East, from Kampuchea, The sun appeared to find us at around six, six-thirty in the morning and travel straight over our Resort, setting of an evening dead-ahead over the gulf of Thailand, infront of our restaurant.

Oh how the dawn brought such joy at the prospect of another day on this idyllic paradise. Birds singing, wildlife awakened as the staff stumbled in their sarongs and night gowns to the shower block.

I slowly and somewhat unsteadily crawl out of my hammock. Comfy as it is, hanging there on the porch, I know I'm going to have to start sleeping on a bed, inside my bungalow, lest my back should start mumbling and grumbling. Likewise, I need to cut down a little on those buckets, for my head seems to expand in size by the day. Not to mention the fact that those evil, icy Cola, red bull (M150), Rum cocktails also regularly deprive me from being in a capable state to brush my poor teeth before bed, er... ...hammock.

I slowly stumble, in the baggy fisherman wrap-around pants I sleep in at night, over two dogs; Chet and Barney, down the steps of bungalow. I make my way through the lush, green garden in the middle of a circle of bungalows, and amble over the pristine white-sand path towards the sea.

In it I dive, feeling the morning freshness start to seep into my pores. After a good swim I get out of the sea, feeling a lot more alive, and head for the showers. Get dressed, skin up, and feed the cat on the balcony as I smoke the first of the day. The sea is usually calm; her waves lapping the crystalline sand as the palm trees lining the back of the beach lean forwards at contortionist angles, as if trying to reach the water, and for now can only flutter in the breeze.

Right, once the cat’s been fed, I’m ready to face the music. First, quickly check I didn't forget about someone who may or may not be on my bed inside. No-one. Good, at least my memory still serves.

It is around a quarter before seven o'clock that I head towards the restaurant, as the Cambodians working on the newly started construction of the luxury resort next door begin tinkering and hammering. It’s a shame about the project, but it’s still a year away from completion, and Cambodian workers are fun to hang out with from time to time. They’ve built themselves a tiny little shanty hamlet in the tree line away off the beach, and are generally cool.

Once at the restaurant I put on the hot water for some much needed coffee.

The girls, first Si, at thirteen the youngest of the waitresses, followed then by Noot, the twenty-two year old and Mat, eighteen and with toddler, start to arrive. They are followed shortly by Si's mamma, Anchan. She is a boisterous large lady of gentle features. As with many asian ladies, she carries herself well, and looks far younger than her years.

Si's father lives in their hometown and Anchan has little to say of him. Si visits with him on occasion, but her mamma does not allow too many occasions to rise.

Mam also enters, carrying herself with a worn and battered grace. She is slowly becoming the manager here, and cause for a significant amount of concern amongst the workers. Her history is largely stained due to no fault of her own, other than being born to a third wife and not a first, therefore being regarded as an outcast and bastard child. She has been sent away to schools, well maintained but at a distance from her family all her life, and only as recently as a year ago, re-entered the family-fold to run her fathers 'side-business' on this initially isolated strech of beaches. This history has left her character with some distinctly sporadic yet potent temper, unbecoming of a Thai lady.

At half past seven, the taxi pick-up truck, known as a Songthaew, arrives to pick up the departing guests of the day. This routine seems to have been established quickly as the first and currently only lane of the road from the north starts to gain shape. Only a dirt track for now, there wasn’t anything but a trekkers track before. The Thai word Songthaew translates as ‘two benches’ and is literally a pick-up truck with two benches in the open rear. Often in Thailand they have roofs (I think for all year-round - either rainy season or sun protection.), and they are a very common form of local ‘bus’ all over the country. Mornings at seven thirty for departures, evenings between five and half past five for the arrivals at Nature Beach.

And so it goes, always with Si standing on the steps of the restaurant, with still sleepy eyes, waving frantically, "Bye-Bye, Bye-Bye! See you 'gain, see you 'gain!" with an almost sad look in her eye.

Yet she has seen this happen so many times. She's said hello and goodbye to so many more people than I can imagine, amongst which many young ladies that she often develops a rather sisterly bond with. At thirteen, it won't be long before she starts exploring more bonds I imagine. I can't help but think of her as a little sister that I did not have. Her moods and sulkiness I recognise and respond to appropriately, and our friendship is a lovely brother-sister one. We beat each-other up in play or pretend fights, we laugh together. She would come to me when she wanted to get to know someone from the Farang (westerner) crowd of eternally changing backpackers.

We sit together at quiet times and we share with each-other the secrets of our respective languages. In years to come I will come to think of those often brief moments as snapshots of my basic knowledge of the thai language.

As I wave the taxi off, I head back for my second cup of coffee, and some breakfast (usually a plate of assorted fruit), and read the guest book. Good, more satisfied customers. Haven't had a dis-satisfied one yet. I go sit with Si and make sure she's okay. She is.

She always is and we then get ready for the breakfast ‘rush’ (If you can call twenty or thirty people in two, three hours, a ‘rush’).

Our restaurant has started to get itself a name. The menu is wide ranging, cheap, and our Chef Anchan is excellent at western and Thai foods. More often now we are entertaining and serving islanders from other bays, tourists from resorts on the northern White Sands Beach, and KaiBae Beach. Even people from the south, Banbao, have been stopping by regularly. When all is smooth and peaceful, I head back at around nine-thirty to the hammock for a bit of a rest, and a Chris-style chill.

About Eleven o’clock in the morning, I return, all cheerful and back in full effect, and speak to the people. Some days are pretty peaceful, and I can read my books. Others have a calm, relaxed archaicness to them I enjoy, when it’s almost non-stop all day. Having said that, now with third waitress, Mat, joining us full time, I can focus on chatting to people, and convincing them to take the fresh home made, giant onion rings, only to munch away on them myself, when they arrive.

By this time it's hot. Insanely hot.

Watching the people come and go off the beach, sand and saltwater dripping off their often beautiful bodies, carrying trays of shakes back to their friends on the beach, I sometimes feel small pangs of, what exactly...? Maybe I sometimes think about continuing my travels, but then I look out over the ocean, calm, peaceful, serene, sun reflecting off it in a way that emphasizes the beauty of my surroundings, and when I feel this form of misguided melancholy, I go take a walk.

"Sawat-dii Khap, Chris!" One of the workmen greets me as I pass by. "Sabaii-Dii mai, Tos?", I ask him how he is.

The Palm trees, immense in height, waver slightly in the breeze. One instinctively looks up, just in case. 785 deaths per year on Koh Chang... 602 of them from this particular RPC (Rocket Propelled Coconut), someone once jokingly told me. Then I hear some shouting, clapping, in awe.

Noot, Chief Carpenter, Workman, host and Mr. Universe - aka the Monkey Man - is racing up one of the trees, on his bare hands and feet, and within 20 seconds he has ascended 15 or 20 meters and starts throwing down ripe coconuts. He does this once or twice a week. Theoretically to prevent coconuts from killing people or destroying rooftops, and always good for doing some coco specials in the restaurant. We are however, all rather convinced that it is an act designed to get the Farang (Westerners), particularly of the female variety, talking about him.

We don’t turn on the power generator until about an hour or two before sunset. So at around four in the afternoon I turn on the tunes, put the evening specials on the black board, and have a first beer. It's time for another chill session in the hammock for an hour or so... Tiring days...

Bill, the Canadian eccentric, who helps around the grounds, and will be here for as long as I am, comes over and sits with me, usually with some munchies, and certainly with lots of gossip. It's a small bay, and those of us – when not in the restaurant - have a lot of time to chat, gossip, about our little community. I like to keep up to date, so I can tell the girls all the latest also.

Sometimes he'll have a copy of last weeks paper, so we read about some blokes called Osama bin Bush and Georgie von Richthofen who are playing Action Man with the world. We have a little chat, perhaps a few jokes are cracked, and then it's back for the "late shift"

The Sun starts its leisurely descent, directly in front of our resort, over the ocean, dead ahead (we bribe it to set there). The beach; couples scattered around, sitting on logs, on the sand. Si brings some Blue Curacao Margharita's to a gorgeous Danish couple, enjoying their last evening on Lonely Beach. Sometimes, if it's a particularly spectacular sunset (as opposed to a merely gorgeous one) I like put on the raw power of Emma Shaplins arias, which my dear mother introduced me to a day or so before my European departure. A little bizarre for a backpacker's resort, but I can’t always play what they like.

On these occasions I go to the little, private balcony over the chill-out lounge and sit there, staring at the intense reds of the clouds in the distance, the purple, orange of the cirrus clouds high, high above our paradise. I remember one similar sunset, when the sky above us and all of Lonely Beach Bay was clear, but the horizon was a clud filled wall of cumulo-nimbus. As the sun set behind the clouds, a blazing orange ball of raw energy, and disappeared beyond the wall, one could perceive just shimmers behind the grey. As the sun was about to touch the horizon, a perfect, round hole appeared in the clouds which allowed only, but entirely, the sun to show, in all it's glory, until it finally and conclusively disappeared to go and shine it's life flow to others, in other parts of the world. And as Emma sang and shared her emotions to the Beach, I sat on this balcony and remembered my mam, my family... The friends I'd left behind, and the new friends I'd made.

Darkness and as the people shower and prepare for the evening, the girls and I have a little chat amongst ourselves, laughing about some of the more bizarre farang we've met; The Aussie Bloke who ran around the beach naked, all the while proclaiming his undying love for me! The Danish middle aged eccentric who would go half way across the Island to get a newspaper for a guy who didn't want to know him... and when Mike and I ran to another resort to get away from him, he'd come searching for us, Newspaper still folded and unread (by the way Mike, Thanks for convincing me to go to Koh Chang.. As you may have guessed, it's been a life changing experience).

And all the crazies, dancing on the tables, endless buckets.... Beach parties... And then, for me the best nights of all... unfortunately also days gone by... An angel and I jamming playing guitar, singing, improvising raw beauty, passionate power sometimes in our lounge with an audience of ten or so, sometimes on the beach with up to fifty people sat around bonfire, passing buckets and beer round the circle, listening, and listening they were.

To reminiscences, to days gone by, and to the memories yet to be made...

One day I awoke and thought to myself: it's time to move on.

The staff were all doing their jobs pretty well. We had a Thai asst. Manager. And so I left.

here's a story about how I left.

Bye Bye, Bungalows - Hello, Backpack

"Hello Mr. Backpack,

How have you been?

You've been sitting in the corner of this hut for quite some time now haven't you? You must be quite stiff. Hey, why don't you and I go for a walk? Perhaps a little journey to elsewhere..."

"Ooh, yes Mr. Chris! That sounds like a mighty fine suggestion. Give me an hour or so to pack myself, and I'll just let Mr. Guitar-Case know. Then we can go. Oh, by the way, Mr. Chris, where was it you were thinking of taking us? Will we return here, or should I take everything with me?"

"Well, you see Mr. Backpack... – Oh! Good Morning, Mr. Guitar-Case! Did you sleep well?

I'm glad you are awake, as I was just about to tell Mr. Backpack about a little journey I had planned."

"Tell me more Mr. Chris. Where are you and Mr. Backpack planning on going? Will you be taking me too?"

"Of course I'll take you! You know I never go anywhere without you. I was thinking of getting out of here.

This resort life has been very good to me, but lately I guess I've sort of been itching for a change. For a little while now I knew that something was wrong, but I knew not what.

Now I know.

It's all been getting too hectic around here, and paradise slowly fades... I'd prefer to leave while the going is still good, rather than wear out my good fortune.

All the signs, all the vibes, and most of the good people I've met, have all led me to believe there is really only one thing I can do."

"What do you mean to say Mr. Chris?"

" Well boys, you must understand, I've been in Thailand for quite some time now. As much as I love her, Thailand needs to be left to it's own devices for a while, and the many signs that I have been reading, well,...

...they all point to a place called Melbourne. So that's where I was thinking of heading. What do ya reckon boys? Shall we do it? Take Melbourne by storm?"

"Melbourne Australia? Well, Why not!"

"Okay, let's go and take a little break in the mainland town of Trat. Then in February we do a bit of Bangkok, then get on a plane.

Pack up now, and Mr. Guitar-Case, don't you forget Lady Guitar!"

****

There was a wedding on the beach on my last night in Koh Chang.

I no longer knew most of the traveler's. Since New Year's Day I have not worked, and have stayed distant of the restaurant and the dark side of Mam.

The workers - my family - came to see me regularly, and I would still take my meals, sitting quietly in a corner of the restaurant, or sat in the lounge, with those few among the Farang (western foreigner) whom I had known. Two Israeli brothers comforted me greatly in this time of sorrow and weakness. They had been around several times for extended stays on our bay, at the Nature Beach Resort.

I had little desire to leave, but I knew that I must. The time was not right for me to stay there.

My journey had no defined destination or purpose. It was always about the journey. The troubles recounted in other stories with the Jah Bar boys and the Nature Beach Resort crew, and those between manager Mam and myself were of no real influence. I had every option of staying, and yet... The signs... I had trusted in my heart every step so far and not as yet moved in fault, though perhaps some choices may have been wiser had I taken more time to reflect.

However, and anyhow, the time had come for Chris to depart and see what awaited the new year. With a small party late at night, with the 'family'; Anchan the chef, daughter Si, Granny Mémé, Nam, Mat (&baby), Noot, the lovely Ying and I, melancholy kept each-other company. Noot the super carpenter came over for a while with his assistant, the ever reliable and smiling Tos.

We sat on the beach, enduring long sad silences. Were the Boss on the island, we would undoubtedly had to have had a party. We felt more comfortable sitting together on the beach, with love and mutual respect – friendship – to maintain us. We laughed and cried, sang songs and said goodbyes.

We said we would never forget.

The following morning came time for a very, very sad tearful goodbye for good. I heaved a sigh, looked back as the dust rose in the wake of a pick up truck crossing the recently completed one lane 'road'.

Little sister Si ran after the truck for several hundred yards. She had yet to come to my bungalow, where a trove of treasure awaited her. Some English books to learn reading and writing from, (unfortunately few) photographs of some of the moments and friends, memento's and the bracelet of leather I had kept for some time and she had admired once.

The dogs had more stamina, and crossed the border to the neighbours terrain for a short distance before retreating. Barney, the younger of the twin pubescant dogs hobbled and stumbled and bumbled and fumbled, emitting near yelps that never came out quiet right, and limping painfully to my eyes.

The pick up stopped on the hairpin of a sharp upward curve and picked up two younger europeans. Slowly it gathered speed and topped the crest of the first of two steep rises that seperated Lonely Beach Bay from Kai Bae Beach to the north.

I looked at the boys and felt older. They glowed with freshness and excitement after spending a week here. I looked back at the bay that was soon going to be out of sight forever.

Never to return to the Lonely Beach as I had known it in the past months.

These boys did not know who I was, but knew that I emanated from the beach below and behind us. It felt strange not being known by people anymore. It felt like a freedom I had not known for some time. I could go on in obscurity.

I said goodbye to all that was, all that could have been.

I turned around as the pick up crested the second hill and came down in Kai Bae beach and I welcomed a new era.

Alright boobies:

Here's Part one: :D

A most excellent post Kayo.

I remember the Doc trying to write a very long post once. He got as far as 5 smilies and mentioning wine three times and that was it

McDonalds Chef cum manager.

Is that where that secret sauce cums from

My Greatest achievement- Not having upset Zaza

My Greatest ambition- To continue, not to upset Zaza

Moss

My Greatest achievement- Not having upset Zaza

My Greatest ambition- To continue, not to upset Zaza

Moss

I'm gonna see if i can find Phazey's offending post

When i met Zaza in Bangers, she mistook me for an American who had previously had an argument with her

Jumped out of a helicopter into a waterfall.

Lassoed a buffalo from a helicopter.

Crashed a helicopter.

Considering the first two, the latter seems kind of inevitable!

JxP

The next time I have a beer with the Soundman I shall hopefully find out which 2 are not correct, if he doesn't tell I shall be forced to post his recent karaoke picture.

I might just have to watch corry... What episodes?

You ain't achieved nuffink til you get to shag Angelina Jolie or Jessie Alba

i think a simple blowjob by Angelina Jolie would count as much as shagging both.

Jumped out of a helicopter into a waterfall.

Lassoed a buffalo from a helicopter.

Crashed a helicopter.

Considering the first two, the latter seems kind of inevitable!

JxP

A bit like skinny dipping in Alaska and wondering why you caught a cold

I might just have to watch corry... What episodes?

You ain't achieved nuffink til you get to shag Angelina Jolie or Jessie Alba

singly or are you making it a real challenge to do them at the same time

CB

I might just have to watch corry... What episodes?

You ain't achieved nuffink til you get to shag Angelina Jolie or Jessie Alba

singly or are you making it a real challenge to do them at the same time

CB

Or another challenge would be to find one lass called Angelina Alba and one called Jessie Jolie. And see how fit they are

married a 29 year old virgin 29 years ago. now go ahead and make fun of me

now go ahead and make fun of me

Crikey Naam,

I am Mad, not stupid.

BTW, fair play and Good Luck

Moss

Edit

Single Malt

married a 29 year old virgin 29 years ago. now go ahead and make fun of me

Well seeing as the average Klingon lives between 150-200 years old, i suppose there wasn't any need to rush it

Having grown up on the Avon River, Toodyay Western Australia and seeing the guys race the Avon Descent each year it was one of the most important ticks I needed to get in my life.

SO in 200X my brother and I built our own boat, out of polystyrene and fibreglass (like a surfboard) and entered the race. We came 6th place on the first day, 2nd place on the 2nd day and 4th place overall.

That was a major tick for me.

http://www.dinghyracing.com.au/Avon_Descent/avon_descent.php

That was a major tick for me.

Nice one Tuky

But from the link you provided, i believe you and your brother actually came 5th Unless you have different surnames of course.

let me check. I am sure it was 4th.

Definately 4th, you looked at the wrong class mate I will now remove what year we race so as to remain anon.

let me check. I am sure it was 4th.

Definately 4th, you looked at the wrong class mate I will now remove what year we race so as to remain anon.

Apologies, didn't realise there was different classes.

Indeed MrAnon, you where fourth.

married a 29 year old virgin 29 years ago. now go ahead and make fun of me

Well seeing as the average Klingon lives between 150-200 years old, i suppose there wasn't any need to rush it

that's correct but Mrs. Naam is an earthling