Wow, some really interesting statistics about the numbers of people killed at the party. Despite living here, I didn’t know most of these details. Very revealing.

What the report, and the censorious vicar, fails to state is that full moon partygoers are acting of their own free will. Yes, it’s dangerous, yes there are people there looking to exploit, rob and rape. But every single person has chosen to be there, and knows the risks. And ultimately it’s actually incredible that 50,000 people come together to party that hard and it’s as peaceful as it is. Unlike most town centres in the UK on a Saturday night.

Yet again it just comes down to common sense…..don’t get on a motorbike, know how much you’re drinking, don’t put your drink down, and don’t wander off alone. For more tips on keeping safe check out my previous post S urviving Full Moon Madness .

Related posts:

1. 5 Rules for Surviving Full Moon Madness
2. Night Fishing, deserves a quiet night

A continuation of the story of Crab’s new boyfriend and a phallic phenomena.

The first I knew of the relationship was when Crab sidled up to me and mimed, by banging her index fingers together, that she and Pi N were together. I was pleased for her, but a little surprised, having not had a clue anything was going on, despite seeing them both every day. She explained that, if Shrimp and I were happy, they wanted to marry. I couldn’t possibly see a way this could present a problem, but little did I know….

Now, marrying the first time in Thailand is a big, frilly, make-up caked extravaganza. But if that union doesn’t work out, in the truly pragmatic way of Thai life, the couples just go their separate ways, and no more is said about it. There are no bitter court battles for control of assets or custody of children, the single woman is reabsorbed into her family with little comment or fuss. There isn’t even really a label or name for a divorcee, it’s not really necessary to discuss her status.

A Traditional Thai Wedding - First Time Round

When, as in Crab’s case, she wants to remarry they have a quiet coming-out party, which is more like a public statement of serious intention, than an actual formal ceremony. Nobody is concerned in the slightest if papers have even been filed and formal divorce agreed on, seeing as the majority of marriages are rarely legally registered anyway.

In Crab’s case, after she breaks the news to me, an amazing drama of soap-operatic proportions ensues. Pi N’s boss and partner come into the restaurant on his behalf, to request Shrimp’s permission for him to date Crab. Shrimp explains, in no uncertain terms that Pi N has a wife already, and there is absolutely no way his sister is going to be a mier noi or a gik of anyone. The boss reassures Shrimp that Pi N is no longer with his original wife. Shrimp demands that Pi N come himself and ask his permission directly.

I am staring in absolute amazement, jaw on the floor, as they all decide between them the fate of Shrimp’s forty-five year old, older sister. Crab herself watches anxiously from the kitchen, reading Shrimp’s reaction, watching his face, to learn if she will be granted this new and unexpected shot at happiness. Eventually, the situation is resolved. Shrimp is assured the previous wife stakes no claim on Pi Nop, both by the man himself and investigation via mutual contacts in their hometown village. Blessing is given and Crab is giddy with delight, and the possibility of financial security, for the first time in her life.

So that explains the need for a lucky giant penis then. And that evening we have a dinner and small party for Crab, who produces a skin tight, red satin dress to celebrate her good fortune. With it hugging her matronly curves, she sits demurely, with no hint of her usually fish-wife like tones. No doubt, this is more happiness than she could have hoped for at this stage in her life, and her red-satin-radiance speaks volumes about her final, lucky moment to shine.

I hope that all her dreams of security and homemaking will come true. For her entire life since she was a young teenager, Crab has been the sole breadwinner and provider for her four kids.

No related posts.

This morning, there is a giant penis on top of the wine cabinet.

There have been many things on top of the wine cabinet over the years: reptilian, amphibious, feline, and memorably, avian, in nature. But this definitely takes the biscuit, as the first occasion something phallic been perched atop the cabernets and merlots.

I was dimly aware, as I slumbered early this morning, of a banging that sounded vaguely like gunfire, but which I know is actually fire crackers. I chose a few precious extra moments in bed, rather than getting up to discover the reason for the crack-of-dawn explosives.

Later, I came downstairs ready to start the day, and was confronted by the enormous penis staring at me from the top of the wine cabinet. I looked at it in puzzlement for a few minutes, before calling Shrimp, with words you just don’t ever expect to come out of your mouth, other than with really difficult customers: “honey, there’s a giant d*** in the bar?”.

Shrimp explains that it’s part of a spirit ceremony Crab had this morning to celebrate her new boyfriend-husband, and to bless their union and our business. Crab’s new boyfriend-husband is a bit of a catch, and a vast improvement on the inappropriately named Lucky.

After checking out  http://www.exoticindiaart.com/article/shivalinga/ I discovered the willy is actually an ancient Hindu shiva lingam.

the lingam is believed to be one of the most potent emblems in Hindu ideals. the symbol of Shiva’s manhood

In this regard it must also be stressed here that though Shiva is visualized as an ithyphallic deity, his true message is not a licence to licentiousness.

So don’t anybody get any ideas…

The linga is not just the organ of generation, but a sign of the progenitor and the essence of cosmic manhood manifested in the microcosm. By worshipping it we are not merely deifying a physical organ, but recognizing a form that is both eternal and universal

Crikey, who knew all this was going on of a morning.

Related posts:

1. Crab’s New Boyfriend Husband & The Lucky Penis…continued

So after a crazy week of out of season storms, flooding, mudslides and the like across southern Thailand, here on the island the sun has got his hat on and he’s coming out to play. It’s unbelievable how quickly everything goes from disaster zone to business as usual.

A few days ago we were washing up by hauling water from the river like this:

And looking at this:

While today the bridge was fixed:

And we were running on the beach like this:

Delighted to be out in the fresh air, to feel the hot sun on our backs and the warm sand at our feet. What a miracle.

I’ve had a lot of emails from readers concerned about travel to the island. As of a few days ago all the ferries are running to schedule, as are flights to Koh Samui, and the roads are passable. If you’re coming by road from other parts of Thailand, check with travel agents first, but in general I think it’s safe to say it’s business as usual.

Big thanks to Camille at Camille’s Samui Info Blog for all his great updates on the flooding, and for being our top referring site this month.

UPDATE – apparently the road from Surat Thani to Bangkok is still experiencing problems, those arriving from BKK would be well advised to fly to either Surat or Samui. Nok Air, Thai and Air Asia fly to Surat and Thai and Bangkok air fly to Samui.

No related posts.

This is what we woke up to at 4.30am on Sunday morning. Loud shouts in rapid fire Thai called us from our beds and into the storm-drenched night. The river was rising fast amid the torrential rain.

In seconds Shrimp was up and wading thigh high in the flood torrents retrieving our belongings which were being swept away. Then minutes later he was clinging precariously to the lid of our water tank, while he sawed through the pipes holding our electric pump in place, centimetres from where the river is rising.

In the dawn’s early light it continued to rise, breaking the bridges, tearing down the electric lines, submerging the village and rushing into homes and businesses with reckless force and destructive abandon.

As the river continues to rage we sandbag and fortify as best we can, and watch helplessly the whitewater torrents rip our street apart. As the storm continues hours turn into days and days, drinking water runs low, gasoline runs out, candles are all burned down and darkness prevails. There is no way in or out for people or supplies, no phone lines, internet, lights, electric or cooking gas. We are cut off.

The elders in the village say they have never seen a storm like this in living memory, and they shake their heads at the topsy turvy world we live in with its monsoon cyclones in hot, dry, March. And all the while we thank our lucky stars and extend our hearts to Japan.

Related posts:

1. Swimming From Burma
2. Sun is Shining Weather is Sweet

I’m going to try and make this a weekly thing: a round up of all the things I’ve enjoyed this week on the web and want to share with you. Enjoy!

Fighting the tyranny of the urgent at home – ha ha ha ha, the urgent rules in our home! I’m hoping to learn to redress the balance and have more time for the important.

Glamour magazine interviews Aung San Suu Kyi

Sarah Wilson ‘s blog – She’s a great writer and is in the throes of quitting sugar, an interesting journey. Here she writes about sugar and the way our bodies were designed over millenia, NOT to cope with it:

‘Now here’s the untechnical gist of the matter: every single molecule we stick in our gobs has a corresponding appetite hormone that, when we’ve eaten enough of said molecule, tells our brains “OK kiddo, we’re full now”.  Our bodies are good that way; we’re designed to eat only as much as we need.

Every molecule, that is, except fructose. Odd you might say…

This is because back when we were cave people, sugar was both highly valuable (as insta-energy for chasing wildebeast) and extremely rare (a berry here and there). Thus we evolved with no fructose “full switch”, so that when we did stumble on a berry bush we could gorge ourselves stupid (and store it as insta-fat). Our digestion and metabolisms haven’t changed in 130,000 years. Our sugar intake, however, has. In just 150 years it’s gone from 0kg to about 60kg a year.’

Epiphanie Bags – FINALLY these ladies designed beautiful, gorgeous leather handbags which are actually camera bags. It’s about time!!

Rollasole – The best idea ever!! Pure genius – a roll up ballet pump you can slip in your bag and change into when running for the tube, tired footsies from dancing all night, or just need to get out of your heels.

This post on her elders from Goddess Leonie – Leonie is a teacher, writer and women’s circle leader in Australia, and I love her blog. This beautiful post is an example of her wonderful writing and life philosophy:

“They have lost their parents, siblings, loves, children, grandchildren. They have lived stories untold – of miscarriages, abortions, poverty, pain, infidelity. My grandmother told me she once spent the night in prison with her family – because it was Christmas Eve, they were visiting the city, there were no hotel rooms available and they had no money. So the police took them in and let them stay the night with two young children. There have been breakdowns, suicides, alcoholism, of watching children waste away for years from cancer. They have lived in tents. They have been beaten. They have lived through the bombing of London. There has been two world wars. There has been the deepest of depressions.

And yet – and yet.

These women – they glow.

They are happy.

They have a deep and ferocious faith that people are good.

They believe anything can be solved with the salve of love.

And Finally – This Guy – WOW!!

This awesome artist and his magical other worldly spray painting

Related posts:

1. Full Moon Party Report

Sunset, Westfield supermall, London

Dawn 36 hours later on Songkhla Beach, Southern Thailand

Returning to Thailand is always bittersweet. Saying goodbye to family in London always sad. But then there are dawns like this.

Coming back to Jungle Town we are submerged in the damage and reconstruction after rainy season. And mourning the loss of two of Shrimp’s family who were electrocuted in the Songkhla floods.

And then in a few weeks of re-wiring, rebuilding, refinishing and washing and scrubbing, high season is upon us and we enter the helter-skelter madness that is Christmas that is here.

New Year’s resolutions to post more regularly are lost in the mad whirl which is the reality of our jungle life. I am hoping now I’m resurfacing I will be more committed to writing My Jungle Life.

Related posts:

1. Full Moon Party Report

Her release date is set but no one sets much store by it. The world is wise to the lying ways of one of the most brutal regimes on earth. Then, the day before, news filters through that she may actually be released, that the order has been signed. The world waits with baited breath, the second’s pause  heavy with awareness that history may be changing.

The Lady

And then she is out. She is walking, waving, speaking to her people. Her cut glass, educated tones ring out across the world. In Burma people risk their impoverished lives to stand and wait outside her house, holding a vigil for their rightful leader. They hold banners, they weep, they put aside their disparate tribal differences and are a nation for a second.

For a moment they herald a new dawn for their blighted country. As always, the lady steps forward with grace, from fifteen years of imprisonment.  Not the jubilance of freedom on her face, but the gentle knowledge of a soul whose life is in the hands of a brutal dictatorship, and whose time left to effect change is short. It might be a second, according to the whims of the generals, but it will be nonetheless monumental.

(Link to Video of her release on the BBC)

It astounds me after all she has been through that she does not leave. That after the decades of imprisonment she doesn’t ensure her own safety by abandoning Burma. That her commitment to her people goes further than I can dream. At any second she is under fear of arrest, of assassination, yet she persists.

Persists with her vision of democracy, persists in her political voice, persists in fighting for the rights of her people. How does one woman become the political conscience of a nation? How does she sacrifice her children, her husband, her freedom and her life to fight this cause with refined gentle grace and measured, careful intelligent speech?

She speaks to the world and tells them her freedom is no freedom, there can be no rejoicing while her people are still repressed, while more than 2,000 political prisoners remain in jail. She tells the BBC, “I cannot complain, the average person in Burma has been subjected to far greater hardship than I”.

I wonder at the Junta, who having had her locked up for fifteen years presumably thought it was safe to release her a week after their ‘supposedly’ democratic elections. I wonder what they must think when they see scenes of people risking their lives to pay homage to her across the country? How they could be so blind to think they were safe, that her power would have dissipated, to underestimate the soul of a nation?

The unfortunate conclusion is that her freedom will be short lived. But the wonder is that despite sixty years since her father was instrumental in securing Burma’s independence, and twenty years since her rightful election as its leader, despite gross and horrific violations of humanity all over Burma, despite the destruction of a nation and a people and the ethnic cleansing of many more peoples: the pulse of democracy beats strong in Burma and the responsibility of the people courses through her veins.

However long they leave her languishing in jail, hoping the fire dies down they can never extinguish it. As she steps out onto her balcony and lifts her hand to wave to those below, as she gracefully thanks the people for the risks they have taken. As she speaks calmly of the future, and her beautiful face is watched on television sets around the globe, she just proves them wrong again and again.

Related posts:

1. Joe and Egger get a photo from Burma

As October makes its thundery and grey way in we are packing to return to England for the two month wet season.

Leaving the business, the building the family always makes me anxious and the weeks before we leave are consumed with making everything shipshape and water tight. That means this year ripping off the roof and replacing it entirely with a fluffy new grass one.

Sadly due to the extreme heat and dry spell our grassy roof just crisped up to virtually nothing. When the rains finally came and the heavens opened the crispy skinny grasses, baked to nothingness by months of savage sun, gave up the ghost and proved no match for the rains.

We suddenly found ourselves with a totally porous roof, which once the rain started provided virtually no shelter for customers who found themselves with water dripping down their necks and off their noses into their food.

So Ooh spent a lot of time swinging around the rafters wedging bits of cardboard in the worst drippy bits and I spent a lot of time trying not to look up during daylight hours, where the bright contrast of the sunlight meant I could see the blue sky clearly and distinctly through most of the disintegrating roof.

Eventually the new grass arrives, remaining in piled stacks across the road, covered with tarps until Shrimp finds enough time to pick away at it each day. This is a messy process. When the old roof is ripped off section by section it showers everything in sight with a thick layer of powdery grey dust and black mould.

The new replacement grass then showers everything in fresh grass shavings which are frustratingly itchy. The clean up job on the restaurant each day is immense and work on the roof must stop at three in order to get open for six. Also the punishing heat of the day makes the hours from 12-2 unworkable. Our re-roofing is thus limited to a frustratingly short couple of hours in the morning before Shrimp goes off to the main town to get the shopping. The roof takes weeks and in the meantime customers are getting wetter and wetter nightly as the showers that herald the arrival of the wet season become more intense.

Eventually all the work is done, the place is sandbagged, re-roofed. Missing latches, window panes and leaky bits are plugged, sealed and replaced. Still, a gnawing anxiety is constantly with me. I know the ferocious damage the rains can do. I’ve seen the river racing past in white-water torrents centimetres from the kitchen door, I fuss over the dangerous Thai electrics and my fear of the water reaching the kitchen and electrifying everything.

We net down the new roof, cross our fingers and hope for the best. I’ll let you know how it goes.

No related posts.

“Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been clear
Here comes the rain, here comes the rain,
and I say it’s all right
It’s all right”

( Beatles-esque humming optional)

Here in Jungle Town, the monsoon is fast approaching, its arrival heralded by darkening afternoon skies and thunderous early evening tropical downpours. The approaching wetness always makes me anxious, as living in such an open air space and in the middle of a river’s floodplain we are very vulnerable. Especially since the big resort next door have constructed a gigantic flood wall which will mean the full force of the river is directed onto us!

The Little River Right Now - From Our Bedroom

The Front of the Restaurant In Flood Time

View From Our Bedroom and Drowned Banana Trees 2007

A heavy monsoon year really is a sight to behold. When the heavens open, everything is turned to red mud, the roads become impassable, the river bursts its banks and you are truly at the mercy of one of mother nature’s most powerful phenomenons.

In this video you can see how dangerous the roads become, that’s when they’re passable at all. (Watch it through to the middle – when it gets really hairy! Disclaimer: mild swearing included)

So, we’re battening down the hatches, sandbagging like mad and keeping our fingers crossed that everything and everyone remains safe and dry. I’ll update on all the preparations for rainy season in my next post.

Here’s hoping we won’t be bringing in stock through this:

The Only Way In or Out

Stock Deliveries 2007

Related posts:

1. Blood, Flames and Tears….a nation holds its breath and waits for Civil War