Paula Brukmüller - Flowers from Greece - The Autobiography of the Journalist Who Turned a Personal Tragedy into an Inspiring World Tour

My last week in Bangkok passed slowly as the almost nonexistent breeze helped in nothing to refresh the long walk to the Muslim school. The street food was delicious and I was a pro at eating pad thai with chopsticks on paper plates. Still, I didn’t taste the insects, because my students assured me that only tourists eat the cockroach, scorpion, and spider kabobs that are sold everywhere.

Prior to Flavia’s departure, two boys from Germany joined the volunteer team. Then, two other Brazilians and one Mexican completed the team. Along with Kate, Kaplan, and Conrad, an American with whom I had very little contact, we were in nine teachers now.

We visited the flower market together, and I went with Beatriz, one of the two Brazilians, to Ayutthaya, the first capital of Thailand, when the country was still called Zion.

Declared a World Heritage Site by UNESCO, Ayutthaya is known as the city of the headless Buddhas. A set of millennial temples that fell into ruin after the war with Burma (today known as Myanmar).

We spent one night in the city which today has less than 60,000 inhabitants but has once been one of the most important capitals in Asia, housing a population of 1 million and being compared to Paris, keeping the proportions of the time.

We arrived after a not very comfortable train ride, mainly because of the heat. The return was even more painful as there weren’t enough seats for everyone. Beatriz and I went back the nearly 3-hour journey standing, squeezed into a crowded and non air-conditioned wagon.

Still, we couldn’t complain about a thing. Visiting the entire city on an old, rusty, noisy bike just made the whole experience even more memorable.

In my last night in Bangkok, Kate and I returned to our favorite bar on Khaosan Road. This time, the Mexican Alejandro joined us. I ended up meeting with Juan again and Kate kissed the Mexican.

Through the window of the Grab, the Uber equivalent of Southeast Asia, I watched the sun light up like a blowtorch over Bangkok as I drove to the airport. Kate, who also got a volunteering job at the same hostel as me, was with me in the car.

I can’t deny I was happy to leave the city. Two weeks in that damp haze filled with vibrant chaos was more than enough to exhaust me.

Although tired, I felt an unutterable gratitude.

I saw and lived so many unforgettable things in Bangkok that I couldn’t stop thanking it for breaking the fear of the unknown Asia. Also, the pleasant anxiety about going to the Full Moon Party Island was an important personal milestone. I could hardly wait for all the experiences I was about to have in Koh Phangan.

Although we chose to travel by plane, the journey to Koh Phangan’s island in the Gulf of Thailand was much longer than we expected. Waiting for two hours at the airport, two hours of flight, another two hours waiting for the ferry at Surat Thani port, and a 3:30 sea journey. Adding the commute time between all these places, we arrived at the hostel, where we’d work for the next few weeks, in the end of the afternoon.

Despite the tiredness, the atmosphere of the island already made me feel more relaxed. Every time I got a place on the coast, I knew deep in my soul I was born to live by the sea.

Steve, the American who owns the hostel, was not in Koh Phangan yet. A Thai of his trust brought me the keys to one of the wings, but it was impossible to spend the night there. I sent Steve a message that there was no water, no electric light, and the sheets on the beds were in a pitiful state of dirt. I didn’t mention the garbage that was scattered everywhere, because that was something we could even have fixed.

We spent the next two nights at Steve’s friend hostel until his arrival. We got an air-conditioned room with clean bedding, bath towels, and a private bathroom.

Koh Phangan’s economy follows the phases of the moon. Every month, during the full moon week, the island welcomes thousands of tourists looking for fun in the psychedelic nights out that take place everywhere. The main party is the Full Moon, which takes place on Haad Rin beach. Two nights earlier, there’s the Waterfall Party, somewhere well structured and surrounded by many trees. A day earlier, it’s Jungle Party night, also in the middle of the forest. The night after the Full Moon, Jungle Party and Waterfall Party repeat. Two weeks later, there’s the Half Moon Festival, repeating electronic music programming and neon-painted bodies. During the waxing and waning moons, the island is completely empty and silent.

We relaxed from the exhausting trip the first night and enjoyed the following day on the emerald green beach with white sand, located less than 500 meters from the hostel. It was Half Moon Week, and Kate had already arranged to meet a guy from Tinder at a pre-party at a hostel in the center of the island.

I’m not a big fan of electronic music, as I mentioned in Ibiza, but I also said that I was willing to allow myself to try new things on this trip. I danced all night, I lost Kate somewhere, before we even made it to the main dancing floor, and I ended up enjoying the party with a German with an athletic body and we saw the sunrise laughing on the beach. I wasn’t even worried that in a few hours I’d have a lot of work to do.

Steve was a well-built, funny and talkative guy with a Californian accent. I avoided starting any conversation with him when I was alone, as he always had a long and informational story to add. I just couldn’t understand everything he said and I didn’t like to ask him to repeat every sentence, because he was always giving too much information at the same time. My motto in any dialogue with him was: keep smiling.

He arrived at mid-afternoon, with Henry, a 19-year-old American who was also volunteering. Hours later, three cyclists arrived to join the team: Sofia from France, her boyfriend Raphael from Portugal, and Neil from South Africa. They met in Cambodia and cycled together to Thailand.

At the same night, we cleaned up the outside of the hostel completely, and we also cleaned the rooms next to the bar. As we gathered a few black bags with bedding from the hallway to laundry, a black mouse ran down the faded light blue tiles into one of the booths. A shiver ran down my bare feet up my spine to the nape of my neck. I can’t explain what distressed me the most: whether it was the possibility that the rat had passed my feet at that moment, or if it was knowing that we’d be sleeping there that night.

- Please, tell me someone will get this mouse out of here – I begged.

- Even if they do, do you think it’s the only one?- Sofia asked sarcastically.

It was pouring raining as we painted the bar stools with pink spray paint. That same night, we still spread a bunch of wet sheets and towels, we cleaned debris from the front of the bar, and we washed five bathrooms. The place seemed uninhabited for weeks and Steve listed a series of repairs he expected to be made for the upcoming holiday season within 10 days.

He showed how the reservation system worked, which was too complex for me, and he took us to three different buildings, with rooms under the management of Superpink Hostel.

- I need you all to pay close attention to the booking site. In Full Moon week, the movement is really crazy and I need everyone to know how it works. To avoid overbookings or any unpaid guest – Steve demanded.

After a cold shower, I got a bed in the booth pavilion above the bar. I had no guarantee there wouldn’t be any rats there, but at least I’ve seen none. Besides, I was so exhausted after so much work, after a night of partying and a day at the beach, that I couldn’t think of any mice for too long.