Koh Chang

We left for Koh Chang bright and early - a phrase I believe accurately describes the irritating quality of light on those early cloudless mornings after a night of one too many beers ...

I expected a larger bus - we paid for a larger bus - but as is often the case in these parts of the world, what you expect has very little to do with what eventually turns up, often an hour late, on the side of the road. And so our cosy, 12-seater people carrier drove us down to the ferry crossing on the Northeastern coast of Thailand. Bar some annoying gabbering during the first hour of the coach journey from a fellow passenger, it continues to surprise me just how quickly 8 hours on a bus will fly by. Perhaps it's simply the unreliable process of reminiscing, or maybe time really does fly when you're no longer working a 9-5 office job and want it to pass as slowly as possible, but we were on the ferry to the island in no time.

Albeit, a rather grey view of Koh Chang from the ferry

Not long after that, we clambered into a taxi (which was basically a four-by-four with two benches nailed on the back) and headed to our hut along Bangbao Beach. Cosily perched shoulder-to-shoulder with some locals and their shopping, we all watched in polite silence as Mat's belongings rolled across the floor of the vehicle, lightly bashing people's ankles and threatening to go overboard into the road every time we took a hard turn (which was every few minutes).

I caught the eye of the man sitting across from me - a smile played across his lips as Mat's recording device made another sudden bid for freedom, and Mat didn't seem to care much either that his belongings were at the mercy of the driver and his reckless approach to the winding roads - it certainly didn't take him long to get into the spirit of things, and I also suspected he quite enjoyed the smiles and laughs he was getting over it.

Taxi to Bangbao Beach, Koh Chang

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Our beach hut in Bangbao was a breath of fresh sea air compared to our hostel in Bangkok - a simple, shady, air-conditioned wooden hut with geckos darting up and down the inner and outer walls, a little porch with a table and small lamp, and an impressive view of the bay.

A beaming Thai lady greeted us as we paced across the sand. 'Hello Mr. Mathew!' she said and gave us complimentary pots of homemade lychee and coconut jelly - a strange consistency to be presented with, especially on an unsettled, hungover stomach. A quick, sideways glance at Mat told me that he was enjoying it about as much as I was, but she was far too lovely, and we much too British to not engulf the entire thing, and pretend we'd enjoyed it.

We finished them. Immediately after we were given a second each. I guess we were a little too convincing. Or perhaps she could tell. I have found that many of the locals with whom I had the pleasure to speak have a playful, knowing way about them, whether or not you both speak the same language.

The sun set that first night on Koh Chang, and the twinkling lights of the bay shone through the quiet darkness as we went in search of some food. It was certainly nice to be away from Bangkok and see the beautiful island landscapes of Koh Chang, but we still wanted a little more company on the island. As it was, there was no one else staying at the huts for us to have a drink with - and assuming that we weren't interested in being chased up and down the beach by some feral-looking dogs, we were pretty isolated.

On first impression, Koh Chang felt like an island that was living its twilight years, it's party having ended a few years earlier, and we'd arrived to see the hotels in their quiet, eery states: chipped red, green and yellow paintwork which hinted at a warm and lively past, air thick with laughter and merriment, now stood muted and remote amidst the overgrown ferns and foraging chickens. The buzz certainly seemed to have long since left the island, or maybe it was just the time of year...

We had some delicious Thai curries for dinner that evening, and watched quietly as the sky changed from magenta, to violet, to a deep velvety blue, and little stars shone through the blanketing night. The trees hummed with the sound of cicadas as we followed the solar lights between the trees back to our hut. Later that night, lying awake in bed whilst Mat snored beside me, I listened as a storm crossed over the island. Great curtains of rain lashed against the window as the sky flashed brilliant purples and yellows and it took me a while even after it had passed to fall asleep.