Hiding from the moon

Tonight is a full moon. Usually that would be a good thing for me – I love a bit of full-moonage. However, not today, as it means, as I speak, hordes of party-goers are descending on this beautiful island, to splatter it with dance-sweat, cocktail dregs and vomit tomorrow night. The carnage has already started – the usually mellow streets are full of farangs (thai for westerners) driving nervously but proudly around on hire scooters, and all the fast food joints are bursting at the seams as people line their stomachs with greasy burgers and pizza, ready for the alcoholic onslaught on their insides.

However, rather auspiciously I like to think, today is a special full moon as it’s Buddha day, a religious day for thais. So, strictly speaking, it’s not allowed to serve alcohol today, although apparently the resorts ignore this. The Full Moon Party organisers, however, have decided to respect this tradition and so the actual party isn’t until tomorrow, although that hasn’t stopped the revellers start their slow build-up to mass hysteria – the noise level in the sleepy town is definitely a good few decibels higher than usual, with lots more yobbish shouting.

I feel like one of the disgruntled locals, who tolerate this influx each month with irritable resignation. At least business improves across the island I suppose. As for myself, I’m getting into rather a pleasant, virtuous-feeling routine of massaging at least two people a day (I now know the whole massage sequence) and am going to be teaching yoga tonight and tomorrow here at the centre, as the other teacher can’t make it. Hopefully all good karma for if I ever return to this special place.

Last night I managed to blag myself two dinners, oops. I arranged to meet Stefan, Lotta and their son, Shim for dinner, and they took me out to an amazing locals’ well-kept secret restaurant – not a tourist in sight, and an absolutely delicious feast to be had, including the best panang curry I am ever likely to taste – divine.

Family portrait of my lovely hosts of dinner #1 – Stefan, Lotta and Shim.

I then met some of my diving friends at their regular beer haunt and the owner, Jamie, who was on my diving course with me, put on a fantastic barbecue (he is a trained chef) – how could I refuse?

Jamie cooks up a storm – host of dinner #2, naughty me.

So once again I ended the day feeling I’d over-indulged rather and intent on trying not to pig-out much the next day. So far my intention is going well (fruit salad for brekkie) – perhaps this is Buddha’s pacifying influence, as he fondly gazes down on the un-enlightened on this special day of his…

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