Day 68- Best Part Of Travelling In Non-English Speaking Countries; Getting A Haircut.

After two straight nights of heavy drinking, I was starting to feel the effects and was not overly limber.  Due to my lack of mobility, I decided to spend the morning researching where Colleen and I would start our scuba diving course the following day, as we were scheduled to ferry over to the island of Koh Tao.  Once all that business was taken care of, we promptly headed over to the Sham Rock's (aka the scene of the previous night's awesome cover band experience) and grabbed some lunch.  Seeing as how this was a vacation, I decided to follow that up with a lengthy nap.  Tough life; I know.

Having now been gone from Canada over a month, I at last had to cave and get a haircut.  Getting a haircut in a foreign country is one of those things you never think about until you actually have to do it.  I have had some of my most memorable experiences travelling in the chair's at various hairdressers around the world.  I did some quick research and discovered that there was a place around the corner from my hotel.  Feeling a little nervous,  I made my way over and was put into a seat without a word muttered between myself and the gentleman who was going to be responsible for trimming my luscious locks.  He just instantly went to work while I sat there, afraid of what might become of my hair.  If it wasn't for the fact that I was being constantly harassed by giant mosquitoes the whole time I might have decided to close my eyes and just await the outcome, but alas I could not let those blood suckers destroy me!  In the end, the haircut was not that bad, all things considered, although I must say I was not overly fond of the use of a straight razor with no lubricant and/or shaving cream.  I got sensitive skin brother!     

While I was getting my hair butchered, Colleen was out getting a mani-pedi.  Seems fair.

With my newly coiffed hair, we hit up the street vendors for the third time in the four nights we had spent on Koh Samui.  I must say, it is pretty awesome when you can get a decent meal for under $3 and you get the added bonus of being parked right next door to the girly bars which means free entertainment is thrown in!  Dinner was naturally followed by some "street drinks" (see: roadside lemonade stand-style vendors hawking booze) before we hopped in one of the "roaming" cabs to take us to the biggest town on the island, Chaweng.  The roaming cabs, for those not in the know, are pick-up trucks with their beds converted into two rows of benches that just circle the island picking up people and dropping them off wherever they need to go. Genius I say!

 

Upon being dropped off at Chaweng, we headed over to some joint called Ark Bar, that was a massive beach bar complete with a fire show, more bars than I could count, a legitimately half-way decent DJ and drunk skanks everywhere.  It's okay, I'm allowed to say that, I'm basically married.  After procuring my own personal sand bucket filled with strawberry daiquiri, Colleen and I attempted to find some prime real estate to sit down.  Upon finding a table where it appeared the gentlemen seated there would be leaving we were thrown a curveball when it was discovered that one guy could barely move and was passed out cold on the table.  In fact, I ended up helping  his buddies scrape him up and they eventually marched off with him a la "Weekend AtBernie's".  Sometime after that first glass bucket of daiquiri, Colleen convinced me to get up off my ass and join the masses on the beach for a sexy dance party.  During my pathetic attempt to be groovy, a little Thai girl peddling glow sticks to drunk gringos took it upon herself to steal my hat and refused (rather cutely) to return it to me unless I bought one of her sets of glow stick glasses.  I promptly handed over the cash and then made my way over to the laughing gas bar to huff on some balloons with my brand new spectacles.  Please don't tell my dentist I was abusing nitrous oxide. Thanks.

BEST. GLASSES. EVER. Not sure if they're covered under our insurance plan.

Once we were danced out, it was time to head back to the hotel, but not before we hit up the local Burger King to keep our "Koh Samui fast food every night before bed" streak alive.  I would also like to say that I was very proud of Colleen as she managed to barter the cabbie down by 50% on our ride back to the hotel thanks to some liquid courage! 

Unfortunately, our good luck quickly ran out at the hotel as our room key that also provided us with power, lights, etc had stopped working.  Upon telling the guy at the front desk, he basically told us to fuck ourselved and that we should go sleep with no power and it wasn't his problem.  Yeah, it is dude, you're  the only one working.  After some bickering (Colleen was getting quite agitated), the dude at the desk eventually gave us another key but told us that we were going to have to pay for it when we checked out even though it was not our fault.  Okay, fuck face, okay.  Throw in the fact that we were greeted by a giant cockroach just chilling in the middle of our room and well my friends you have a recipe for some good old fashioned Thai hospitality!



Just what I love to come home to!



~Brentski~

Day 66- Do Pro Wrestlers Oil Themselves Up Or Is There A Designated Oil Guy In The Dressing Room?

Thailand.  Sun. Sand. Beaches. Cheap drinks.  Yes, these are just many of the things that come to mind (at least the non-perverse mind) when you think of this fine Southeast Asian nation.  Since our hotel was just around the corner from one these beaches the people speak of, Colleen and I decided to start the day off with a nice suntan and some solid sand lounging cause we heard that is what people do on vacation.  Unfortunately we are not normal people.  In theory it was a nice relaxing idea, but within half an hour, we were both bored and Colleen started harassing me to go back to the hotel.  Shortly thereafter we ended up at a beachside bar imbibing in some lunchtime wobbly pops.  For Colleen this was enough of a beach excursion, while I decided to try and tough it out back on the beach with my e-reader and a copy of "Argo".  This didn't last long before the Heaven's started pissing on me and I was thus forced to admit I was not cut out for the beach towel lifestyle.

Later in the day, Colleen managed to convince me that we had to go for a couples massage (I know what you are thinking guys, and yes I am so owned).  With the memory of my recently painful Thai massage still fresh in my mind from a few days ago, I opted this time to try out every porn star's favorite massage, the full body oil massage.  Unlike the outdoor massage bazaar where I received my last massage, this one was indoors and climate controlled.  One thing I did not count on was that I probably should have worn boxers as I was just wearing my bathing suit with nothing underneath.  Before we began, the dominatrix masseuse kept insisting that I take off my shorts (she was assuming I wore underwear like a normal person in public) and I kept trying to explain to her that I didn't need her or her coworkers seeing my Don Johnson.  Eventually through sign language and some "Hooked On Phonics" I was able to communicate the fact that I would be electing to get a rub down in my trunks.  I must say I rather enjoyed the oil massage and I was starting to turn the corner on this sub culture of massages. 

With our freshly rubbed down and lubed up bodies, Colleen and I decided to make the rounds of what we called the "street bars" that evening.  The basic premise of the street bars (no idea what they call them) is that they are little booths set up in random spots along the streets that sell cocktails for approximately $2 Canadian.  We would drink at one booth and then move on to another.  These are a great way to get your drink on for cheap, and also forced us out of our hotel room  and interact with other human beings.  After tiring of the I'm-not-sure-if-it's-legal street liquor, we attempted to check out a few of the local bars in the Lamai Beach area.  It didn't long for us to conclude that they were mostly all girly bars full of old white men and young Thai women girls that I'm sure were all looking to find true soul mates. 

Double fisting. Like a boss.

 

Colleen sourcing out some street hooch.

Since Colleen doesn't share my love for Asian women and is against inviting strangers back to the hotel, we decided that our safer bet to end off the night would be a double whammy of McDonald's and Subway followed by one last call at our local street booze peddler.  Good night!

~Brentski~

 

Streets of Lamai.

Girly bars = pure class.