1913: Suffragette throws herself under the King’s Horse.
1970: Feminists storm Miss World.
2011: Caitlin Moran rewrites The Female Eunuch from a bar stool and demands to know why pants are getting smaller.
There’s never been a better time to be a woman: we have the vote and the Pill, and we haven’t been burnt as witches since 1727. However, a few nagging questions do remain…
While my idol Caitlin Moran addresses the most pressing questions of our time in her book How To Be A Woman (“Why are we supposed to get Brazillians? Should you ever get Botox? Do men secretly hate us? What should you call your vagina? Why does your bra hurt? And why does everyone ask you when you’re going to have a baby?”), I have had my own issues (plus all of the above!) to contend with. “Part memoir, part rant”, my take on Moran’s book addresses the eternal dilemma of ‘how to be a woman’ whilst on a LADS holiday in Koh Phangan, Thailand.
NB: Please note that throughout this blog post there will be certain words capitalised. Whilst any males reading this will assume that these words have been capitalised to indicate their greatness, the females of the species will realise that their emphasis has less to do with greatness and more to do with absolute ridicule that they are used as badges of pride by LADS.
Chapter One: Avoid Bangkok & Haad Rin (particularly on Full Moon)
While Forrest and I were having a ridiculously chilled out time at Lazy Beach, Cambodia, three English LADS began their cultural and spiritual journey in Thailand’s capital, Bangkok. Rob Watson, Rick Heys and Stuart Burrell (the latter having previously spent a week in Bangkok on a different holiday) spent four LAIRY days in Bangkok, and when later questioned about what had taken place, their answer was an unequivocal “what happens in Bangkok, stays in Bangkok”. I dread to think what escapades they got up to, but have a feeling that it would make The Hangover 2 look like chicken feed. I am eternally grateful that their arrival overlapped with the end of Edwina and Rick’s holiday, as being a woman on a LADS holiday in Bangkok would surely have meant the end of my Gap Yah adventure, returning back to the UK as a broken shell of a woman, traumatised by the events that had unfolded.
Whilst the LADS lived it up in Bangkok (I ask you not to dwell on the goings-on here for your own sanity), Forrest and I began our journey back to Thailand – a flight from Phnom Penh to Bangkok, a night train to Surat Thani and eventually a boat across to Koh Phangan. By this stage, the LADS had arrived on Koh Phangan and had already spent a night discovering the culture the island had to offer, namely buckets of booze and lots of young English and Thai girls looking for a good time. We arrived on the island on the day of Full Moon after an arduous crammed boat ride full of mainly English LOUTS heading across for drunken revelry on Haad Rin beach. I was already finding being a woman tough as I desperately tried to ignore the LADS, and much to my dismay LADETTES, buying beers on the boat and embarrassing our fair nation.
Having not booked any accommodation in advance, and after being informed on arrival that there was no room at the inn anywhere on the island, we were hoping to meet up with the LADS and crash on their floor. Obviously this was a less than ideal outcome, but even sharing a room with smelly LADS was preferable to taking my chances on the beach after a Full Moon Party. We located their hotel, the aptly named Full Moon Hill Resort, and were delighted to see that Rob West had somehow managed to arrive in one piece and was chilling by the pool reading. Westy had wisely chosen to opt out of the Bangkok leg of the holiday (he claims this was more to do with money, but I have a feeling that he would have been unable to keep up with the LADCAPADES) and so had arrived on his own the previous evening to find the rest of the LADS out on the town. For a small fee we persuaded the hotel to let us squeeze into the LADS’ two rooms for the next two nights, and also managed to successfully rouse Watson (although Stu and Rick weren’t to surface for another few hours at least). In one final attempt to retain the last threads of femininity and womanhood that I was sure were going to be stripped from me over the course of the two weeks, I left the LADS drinking beers by the pool and went into town for bikini waxing and a mani-pedi.
That evening was Full Moon, an experience I had been looking forward to with equal measures of dread and curiosity. The night was off to a pleasant start, as we met up with Teddy for drinks in The Treehouse – possibly the only bar in Haad Rin not packed to the rafters with idiots in glow paint. I introduced the LADS to the delights of the Pina Colada as we caught up on happenings since we’d been away and prophesised on what was to come over the course of the next couple of weeks. All the while the sun was setting behind the curve of the bay, and any worries I had been harbouring about being a lone female on a LADS holiday faded away along with the daylight. The peaceful serenity of The Treehouse was not to last too long however, as we made our way down to Haad Rin beach to experience the Full Moon Party.
Now whether we had simply caught the Party at the wrong time of year (after all it was situated right after English schools had broken up and exams were over) or whether each month, regardless of its position in the year the same monstrosity occurs, but from the get go I hated everything imaginable about the Full Moon Party. I had been unwilling to dress up in the Full Moon “uniform” of neon bikini, neon miniskirt and day-glo penis’ scrawled over my naked body, meaning that I felt ridiculously old and overdressed in my backless, black dress proclaiming in sequins “LIFE IS FANTASTIC”, when in reality in that particular moment in time, surrounded by girls drinking buckets of lethal booze and rolling about in the sand, this couldn’t have been further from the truth. As far as I could tell, there were no women on Haad Rin beach that night, only drunken teenage girls making spectacles of themselves. Actually, forgive me for I have forgotten about the Japanese families that made their way through the throngs of bodies, taking pictures of the scenes of horror unfolding before their eyes – ones to show the grandkids I’m sure. We really did try to have a good time, but the situation got even more precarious when we were unable to find anywhere remotely decent to sit and have a drink; somewhere that conversation wasn’t impossible due to techno-trance being blared out at unspeakably loud volumes. I had resigned myself to the fact that I was going to have to put up with my own six English LADS for the foreseeable future but in no way was I willing to be surrounded by the rest of England at its LAIRIEST, most OBNOXIOUS worst. After about an hour and a half of this torture, Forrest, Watson, Westy and I jumped ship and headed off on a longtail to the next beach around the island – our home for the next two weeks, Haad Yuan. I cannot describe how indescribably happy I was as the boat sped away leaving behind the blaring trance, glaring lights and neon paint covered beach behind, and how this amplified ten-fold when we arrived on the beautiful little haven that is Haad Yuan. I was immediately happy here, and couldn’t wait to get back to Haad Rin, pack up our bags and get the hell outta dodge.
On a similar vein, once stationed in Haad Yuan, having the time of your life, forego all further expeditions to Haad Rin that aren’t entirely necessary (ATM runs, hospital visits, shopping). On Rick and Stu’s last night on Koh Phangan the LADS all went back to Haad Rin for a LADS night out, but I wisely chose to decline their generous offer of my inclusion, forsaking pool parties and buckets for an evening with Harry Potter and some peanut M&Ms in bed! Now we were in heaven on Haad Yuan, being a woman thus far was going swimmingly and I wasn’t willing to risk this, especially not with LADS on the prowl. Upon hearing the stories of the night the next day, I was particularly pleased at my decision as I don’t think I would have much enjoyed the drunken attempt to steal a longtail, infuriating the locals and possibly destroying what sanity I had managed to hold on to thus far.
Case in point
Chapter Two: Eat worms.
While in the past late mornings/early afternoons would often mean a vicious battle of trying to get Forrest out of bed due to his nocturnal activities and day time sleeping, during our Gap Yah Forrest and I have managed to come up with a routine that suits us. I quickly realised that I am not at all bothered if Forrest wants to sleep the day away, as long as there is a beach and a book for me, and here I could happily while a way the entire day waiting for him to surface, sans argument over what a waste the day had been. And in all fairness, Forrest had become much more inclined to getting up while there was still daylight since we had been away, however I could foresee this new-found ‘morning-person’ persona fading rapidly into the background with the introduction of LADISH late nights.
Being the only girl on a LADS holiday was sure to have its trials and tribulations, however I didn’t intend for my routine to be affected by their laziness. It became clear from Day One at Full Moon Hill Resort that in order to secure a good place in one of the two double beds, that were now allocated to sleep six people rather than four thanks to our arrival, I would have to sneak off to bed before the LADS, thus ensuring a good night’s sleep in a bed rather than on the cold, hard floor. A perfect plan executed wonderfully, as both nights in Haad Rin were spent snoringly.
I don’t want to give the impression that I was constantly a wet blanket and skulking off to bed early, unable to handle the LADS impressive ability to stay up into the early hours of the morning – there were the nights/mornings that I outlasted most of them, but that wasn't due to the ridiculous LADDISH BRAVADO that encouraged each other to stay up later than their bodies could handle, it was simply because I was having a lovely time. Being a woman means understanding the importance of sleep, both physically and mentally, something that the LADS couldn’t quite grasp. It also meant that I was able to get up early, catch some rays, spend some quality time reminding myself how to be a woman and still have the energy to look after the LADS as they struggled through their tired, traumatised daily comedowns. One particular night when this strategy worked to my advantage was at the first Guy's Bar; I had had a wonderful evening, but as the sun rose my willingness to pretend that I was enjoying the music even remotely faded and I sneaked off in a longtail back to Haad Yuan. I watched the beautiful sunrise over the beach, then slept for a respectable amount of time as is to be expected of a normal person's routine. Having had my recommended 5 hours, I emerged from the bungalow feeling chipper and bright-eyed and ready to rejoin the LADS who were looking slightly worse for wear up at Eden Garden. Needless to say I was the life and soul of a very soul-less party upon my return (although Forrest chose this moment to retire to the bungalow for some unknown reason?), and my sleeping strategy paid off as I even managed to earn a compliment (however backhanded) from Watson!
Why would you stay in bed?
Chapter Three: Wendybird.
Much to my disgust, being the only girl on a LADS holiday meant that somehow I found myself allocated to the role of “Mother” to the LADS. Much as Wendy Darling becomes “mother” to the Lost Boys in J.M. Barrie's classic Peter Pan, my caring, maternal, sensitive nature was rapidly taken advantage of as I became the sounding board for the LADS woes throughout the holiday. If I heard the phrase “don’t you look after them all well” one more time, I thought I might scream. The irony was, as the only girl, surely they should have been looking after me - especially as my father had rather misguidedly placed his trust in this task to Watson?! This is a role that I would normally shun at home, with the addition of even just one extra female to distract my attention from the LADS, I couldn’t care less about what trouble they get themselves in to. However, on Haad Yuan, aware that there were couples honeymooning, families with buckets and spades and normal people going about their daily lives, I found that these reckless and irresponsible LADS needed a firm hand occasionally in order to keep them out of the Bangkok Hilton.
My “mothering” was for the most part listened and adhered to, and often gratefully appreciated. Watson became reliant of my silent company as we chilled in Big Blue – him sleeping away the previous night’s excess, and me keeping a watchful eye over him, batting away the pesky flies as I contentedly read Marian Keyes until the LADS regained their composure enough to be sane company once more. I never actively sought out this role, but by the end of the holiday even Forrest and Westy were coming to me, for some much-needed female companionship, desperate to escape from the requirements of being a LAD (loud, obnoxious, rude, ignorant, lairy to name but a few) for some gentle nurturing and womanly life-lessons. Well, let me rephrase that slightly; when I say Westy came to me, I mean he threw himself across wherever I was sitting regardless of whether I was mid-conversation or with a drink in hand, craving my unrelenting female compassion.
My patience as “Mother” was tested daily, but I managed to persevere with as much tolerance and imperturbability as I could possibly muster, without losing my grasp on sanity and womanhood. One particular day however, when the night before had turned in to morning after, and we had moved from Eden down on to the beach (probably not the wisest decision), my patience was put to the ultimate test. Forrest had given up and gone to bed hours earlier, unable to keep up with the LADDISH behaviour required of him, but I persevered not wanting to sleep through the beautiful sunshine. The LADS believed that they were on what they would refer to as excellent form, a true example of shining LADHOOD, and perhaps they were. Except that I would call it idiotic and immature. The straw that broke the camel’s back however, was when Westy, Chris and Watson climbed up huge boulder of a rock at the end of the beach, with giant crucifix’s and staffs and proceeded to sing football chats. Unable to endure the embarrassment, combined with a worry there was going to be a very serious accident (of course it involved Rob “The Liabiity” West falling in to a bed of rusty nails) I took myself off to the sanctuary of our bungalow where sleep evaded all elements of Motherhood, and I was able to escape the nightmare unfolding on the beach. Poor Esther valiantly stepped up and accepted the role, and looked after the LADS to the best of her ability. Despite ferrying them buckets of gin and tonic, or perhaps because of this, she was unable to stop them from eating sand.
Wendy Darling & her Lost Boys
Chapter Four: The Killer and the Mole
Being a woman on a LADS holiday had another certain advantage. I was able to use my feminine wiles to play the innocent during long, argumentative games of accusations and distrust. Introduced to us by Stu, The Killer and The Mole is a basically a more complex game of Wink Murder. Two people are selected at random using cards and designated the Killer, Mole or Innocent. The aim of the game is for the Killer and the Mole to work together to successfully kill off the Innocents (by encouraging a majority vote), whilst the Mole distracts attention from the Killer, and the Innocents (who have to constantly proclaim their innocence) try to guess the Killer. Does that make any sense at all?
My first tactic as the only girl in the group was to play the role of ‘dumb blonde’ and pretend that I didn’t understand the game. Of course, I got it straight away but let the boys think that I didn’t. When they finally cottoned on to the fact that I was doing rather well, my strategy changed and I became the ‘quiet girl in the corner’. The strategy was simple; sit back and let the boys destroy each other, regardless of whether I was Killer, Mole or Innocent.
We played game after game, and each round got noisier and noisier as accusations were thrown around at random. Although playing this game was one of the highlights of the holiday, I couldn’t quite let go of my need to control the LADS in order that other people may also enjoy their holiday. I had to constantly shush the shouting for it wasn’t particularly synonymous with the calm and pleasant atmosphere that the Treehouse usually permeated.
Forrest points the finger at Stu
Chapter Five: Sport
Obviously an omnipresent disadvantage of being the only girl in LAAD YUAN was the relentless talking about sport (and the Simpsons, but that’s a different story). I have become quite accustomed to this however, so am able to ignore it at will. Similarly if there is sport on the television, I have an uncanny ability to pretend I’m rewatching an episode of Grey’s Anatomy in my head.
One thing I wasn’t able to ignore quite so easily however was when the LADS attempted to play any form of sport on the beach in front of me. Usually a tactic to impress girls (a tactic tried but miserably failed) the LADS proved themselves to be completely and utterly useless at volleyball, football, frisbee, bat & ball and even swimming. It was a great source of entertainment for me, and I would imagine every other girl on the beach.
Chapter Six: Form a Sorority
Despite having an amazing time thus far, I desperately craved the companionship of another female. I lost count of the times when I wished that Jenny was with us, she would have been in heaven on Haad Yuan, and I would have been able to ignore the LADS and concentrate solely on having fun. Being surrounded by males, albeit funny, nice and cool males (not you Watson) put serious dents in my femininity. Not that I wanted to talk about lipgloss and periods, but just one girl would have been nice. It took a few days, but eventually we had formed a nice little coven consisting of the brilliantly disdainful Esther, magnificent Maayan, the lovely lovely Israelis, the gorgeous Rona, Teddy’s Australians and Crazy Apple from Stone Bar to name but a few (inevitably though there were the Mean Girls disgracing the solidarity of sisterhood...bitches, you know who you are). Of course, the LADS were always there, wanting to be involved in the clearly more fun and entertaining GANTER (not a word I write willingly) going on.
The girls were great and a much needed relief for me in particular, but it really is the LADS that definitely deserve a mention; if only for the wonderful way in which they accepted me as a honorary LAD; Watson, Westy, Rick, Stu, Teddy, Chris, Ash, Luis, Jason, Sebastian, Uri, Scottish LADS (now they really were the epitome of LADS), Sandor and Crazy Tony from Stone Bar... you were all acceptably LAIRY.
Happy to be in the company of other girls!
Chapter Seven: Music
Everyone knows that I’m not the hugest fan of dance music, much preferring the more girly pop a la Katy Perry, Lady Gaga and the Spice Girls. I struggled through the nights at Eden and Guy’s Bar, chair-dancing my way through till morning, while the LADS bopped away to the mindless beeping and droning on the dance floor. I managed to enjoy one short-lived dance on one of the nights to Depeche Mode "All I ever wanted, all I ever needed....", but then realised I was missing my girls and sat back down. On the subject of Guy’s Bar – could there be a bar named anything more appropriate for a LADS holiday, and less applicable name for a young girl struggling to fit in to this LAIRY OBNOXIOUS world?
While we were away I was devastated to hear that one of the Great Talents of our time, Amy Winehouse had died; a great blow to music and womanhood. But her death did prove to have one shining advantage; it allowed Eden Garden to play a wonderful array of Back To Black songs as a tribute to her, combined with the songs of another tragic loss, Aliyah. I relished the opportunity to have a dance to some actual music, a great night to be a woman in LAAD YUAN.
They tried to make us go to rehab...
Chapter Eight: Comfort Eat
When suffering from a bout of far too much LAD, seek solace in food. Not great advice I’ll admit, however the tuna melt, mash potato with cheese and beans and cordon bleu all provide the perfect antidote. The comfort found in food isn’t limited to Western food however, although it does tend to go down a little easier after a big night, for there was many a time when I controlled my hormones following a big batch of LADNESS with pineapple rice, pad thai and the ultimate chicken and pumpkin massaman curry at Bamboo Hut.
Westy however managed to survive off one plain omelette a day. Needless to say, he managed to leave Thailand without a tan, without sampling any of the renowned Thai cuisine but with A LOT of scars.
Chapter Nine: Scar Tissue
The closing line in Alex Garland’s The Beach, after their Nivarna has come to an awfully abrupt and horrific end is this: “I carry a lot of scars. I like how that sounds. I carry A LOT of scars”.
My advice to any woman crazy enough to go on a LADS holiday is to ensure that you take a well-stocked first aid kit. Lethal rocks and wobbly wooden walkways over said lethal rocks do not mix well with drunken LAIRY LOUTS and I had to get out the iodine on an hourly basis. I always knew that my in depth knowledge of Grey's Anatomy and ER would come in handy! Forrest managed to put his leg through one of the walkways, and cut his foot open. Watson became convinced a spider had laid eggs in his foot, and cut his foot open. Even I wasn’t impermeable to Haad Yuan’s lethal terrain, not that anyone took notice when I almost sliced my big toe off. Westy was of course in a league completely of his own though; I have already mentioned falling in to a bed of nails, but by the end of the holiday he was covered pretty much head to toe with cuts, scrapes, gashes, burns and bruises that had quickly become infected despite my best medical care. Any spare inch of skin that wasn’t bleeding was home to a mosquito bite. I made him promise to have Dr. Vicky West give him a medical when he returned to the UK (if he managed to make it that far that is). It wasn’t exactly a comfort to know that we were in the company of two medical students either; confirmed on the night that Ash came out from behind the bar at Peace & Love wearing an old war helmet and ski goggles, looking like a Vietnam Vet on acid, pretending to rev a chainsaw screaming “I’m Doctor Ash. Let’s get started!”.
My scars will take longer to heal than most.
Performing emergency foot surgery!
Chapter Ten: Get trashed
If all of my feminine wisdom and advice fails, and you are unable to cope with the extreme pressure of How to Be a Woman on a LADS holiday in LAAD YUAN, then I am able to part with one more piece of advice. A piece of entirely hypothetical advice.
If everything you have tried to do in order to maintain your womanhood during the torturous two weeks then you may wish to divulge in the many mind and mood altering substances widely available on Haad Yuan. I found the frozen margarita buckets to be a wonderful source of pure-inebriated bliss despite the LADS antics around me, but those with a weaker tolerance may wish for something stronger. I recommend that you visit Stone Bar and ask for the Happy Menu.
Stone Bar...the best bar in the world!
Chris' Contribution...
I don't believe that this wonderful concoction needs any introduction, other than it was created, written, directed, performed and produced by Classic FMs drivetime presenter's medical student son. An excellent portrayal of a hedonistic two weeks on LAAD Yuan. The lyrics really do speak for themselves...
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