DEliTOUR: February 2009

We managed a total of 41 nights at Sun Smile bungalow (sic) on Koh Jum, breaking the previous record of 30 nights held by some Canadian geezer from last year. We made our host, Mr Ka, a card listing all the records we had broken - of course, he doesn't read any English but it was with great joy that we noted Anna's 1297 3-line Kniffel high score and other nonsense. And we left behind the cribbage board that I had fashioned from drifwood. I don't think my veneering grandfather would have been too impressed by my effort but it served the purpose - I never dreamed I would have a girlfriend who would learn and then want to play cribbage - my father would have been impressed.

The last few weeks at Sun Smile were a little different. We encountered the Andaman jellyfish season, which was a little disconcerting. We investigated and found that it is an annual event but still, the sight of hundreds of sizable (5-20cm diameter) blue but harmless cauliflower-like jellyfish washed up on the beach every day for a week, put us off the water. And then another guest got stung by something else. And the other guests were all much older for the first time. In our last stint we were there 18 nights. We still loved it and were able to relax and carry on much as before.

It was a bit sad on the penultimate day when I had a run in with a Swiss couple who had been very moody to everyone. They took offence when Anna and I sat in the sunchairs at the back of the beach - they seemed to have got the idea that they owned the place and had upset another girl the day before by asking her to leave the sunchairs. We were reading and the guy didn't even speak to us but came up and started arranging furniture a few inches in front of us mumbling about how "he likes this part of the beach". Basically he was gutted that we were standing up to their bullying on behalf of all the guests. They were instructed to 'do one'. Bear in mind that Sun Smile has about 800m of empty beach all around. Anyway, later we received the support of our fellow guests who then also started to use the furniture - and the Swiss skulked off embarrassed - they really were very stupid.

The end of our time at Sun Smile was dominated by 'the show', about which I must ramble now. I had long dreamed of performing some of the songs I had written at Sun Smile to thank the staff. I arranged with Mr Ka to play for them after dinner on the final Friday. We had a nice crowd; the five staff, the German 'hang' playing couple, the old Swedes, Dutch mother and daughter, French lady and Canadian boyfriend, Miss Deli and myself. I had done the rounds and apologised in advance to the other guests and, at about nine, I launched into eight new numbers. 'Virgin Soldier', 'What is this music?' (a song conveniently written about writing songs at Sun Smile), and 'A question of interface' (spawned by Ville's obsession with the future of human interaction with technology) were successfully dispatched before I explained 'My sun will never set' to Mr Ka - it being about his little boat n'all. That said it is also a banging rock blues about the deflation of ego with lyrics like "I am the emperor of the human race, you want to put me in an envelope". It is about how, when you feel at your highest peak, there is often someone around that can't wait to try and bring you down. Yes, the language barrier did prevent me getting across the finer points to the Thais in the audience.

The set continued with 'Sea gypsy', a personal favourite, written with one eye on a local fisherman who paddles past very slowly every day. It wound up with 'Hole in the ground' (a tale of the Grand Canyon, NHS funding and collateral damage) before 'Bad Machine', where I, once again, attempt to solve the Palestinian question in 3 verses. The audience were very appreciative and it was great to get to try out the new tunes.

As I was just reminded, there is nothing more boring than sportspeople talking about sports or musicians talking about music. But I had to try and paint a picture for you so you could imagine the tableau as all the farang joined together to dance out the moves to the 'dum-ching' N95 phone-backing of 'Mr.Ka', written for the staff. Regular readers might remember the Thai children's dancing that we had witnessed, along with the staff and their families, a few weeks before. Well, inspired by those moves, I had choreographed a series of sequences for the farang to act out, for the amusement of our hosts. For "Mr Ka make the noodles Mr Ka" arms are outstretched and the action of teasing spaghetti is made. For "Mr Dad drive the longtail", "Mrs Ya bring the omellete", and "Mrs Tuk bring the Chang" similar self-explanatory moves are made. For "Mrs Kim wear your glasses" the classic circle is made with the thumb and forefinger and brought up to the eye, one hand at a time. Throughout, hips are swayed, hands alternated - and we change more rapidly between the variations as we progress. And, at the end of every verse, Mr Ka is celebrated with the chorus of "Mr Ka, Mr Ka, Mr Ka, Mr Ka does everything" as one is bent over and hands are rolled repeatedly, before one slowly straightens up while opening both arms aloft in celebration. Er... don't try this at home.

Yes, it was childish, and very funny, and in 'bigging up' Mr Ka in such a way we succeeded in unravelling some of the aspects of hierarchy and deference that mark such a yawning and impenetrable chasm between Thai and western culture. Maybe. The assembled farang stood in a semi-circle around me and followed my lead as we embarrassed ourselves. It was great fun and such a change of pace, for one night only, when it is usually so tranquil. Beers contiued to be cracked open on all tables (a rarity) and I remounted the upper tier to encore with the emotionally charged 'You've given me everything' written for parents and children everywhere, especially my mum. They still hadn't had enough so I then dipped deep into the back catalogue for 'Neptune's Wrath' a fitting tale of underwater adventure. During the tumultuous middle 'storm' section the electricity failed, the candles came out, the waves roared and it was a very rewarding atmosphere. I finished with 'Tide', a song I wrote in 2004 at Christmas after hearing about the Tsunami. It seemed fitting to bring it home, in bringing that song home, to a place so affected by the big wave. No one died on Koh Jum but we had met people with the physical scars, the adjacent resort on Ao Si beach had been washed away, and we can only imagine at the psychological effect that still pervades daily life for some.

I think it would be fair to say that Mr Ka was 'chuffed to bits'. He is a man of great vision. He asked me back next year and promised a big stage, fire show and fifty gypsy dancers on the beach. I said I would do it if I could have a floating stage on the Andaman sea. I also reminded him that he really shouldn't get the jet-ski he has been talking about.

So, we departed but, after 41 nights, we were ready. We have now been in Krabi Town (again) for 3 nights. We are here specifically to communicate with people like you - and to start to look for the right jobs for our return. Even though the landscape is not as healthy as we would we wish, it seems that there are really good companies in Finland looking, so our fingers are crossed. We are both actually really excited about working again. I guess we are a little homesick now as we can't wait to get back to our flat and get back into some normal life. I am a bit worried about my wardrobe though - it doesn't really notice but I am down from 94 to under 81 kilos since we left home - even the shorts I have bought on the trip are balooning now!