I was on the boat to Koh Phangan watching the landline slowly disappear. Strangely enough, I wasn’t feeling anything. Maybe my chaotic last days had fused together to create some sort of inner peace. The ferry was the last leg of a trip that had taken me through four cities, three buses and two flights. I think I was tired or at least supposed to be, but I was hanging on quite well. I sat next to Dennis and his straggly beard. Dennis had become my traveling companion out of pure coincidence and probably a lot of luck and good vibes. After hours of bonding over plane food, we had gone through jet lag, half a day in a metal container and bus uncertainties together. The tension in my shoulders eased. My hair waved away the land. My lips curved into a half smile of their own accord. It was warm. The air tasted of salt and spices.

Everywhere you looked; mouths were open wide from drinking, talking, eating. You noticed so many teeth this place had become a toothpaste commercial.

We reached Koh Phangan and it was night. We separated not as warmly as all the thoughts we had shared. I descended my gaze on the island. Not having planned a place to stay, I walked slowly in the welcoming heat and took in my surroundings quickly realizing that Koh Phangan at night resembled a Sin City. The lights and noises completely invaded the silence that had taken repose inside me. Bars were all out in the open. Smoking figures were shadowed by red lights thick with fog, creating a surreal atmosphere. Laughter was a constant background noise. Everywhere you looked; mouths were open wide from drinking, talking, eating. You noticed so many teeth this place had become a toothpaste commercial. Flashes of cameras flashed away as the night was stilled in time. Many fell off their stools, all with their heads pulled back in amusement and surprise. Music boomed, killing any chance of quiet. There was a cacophony of languages amongst the musical Thai. Everywhere smelled of lust and booze.

I walked into a hostel. A French girl checked me in.

             

The Writer

I write stuff for fun, if it was for a living I would be homeless.

Find out more about me, Stefanie, here.

Quotes

Venice is like eating an entire box of chocolate liqueurs in one go. Truman Capote