Flashback to spring 2006 and you have a young couple in their early 20's just married and headed overseas for a 3 week honeymoon adventure. That was me and Dave. It was definitely an adventure but didn't feel much like a honeymoon. Sure there were bits and pieces that made it special and fun but the terrible, gross, and horrible overshadowed much of it. I feel like it's important to note that my husband and I were already seasoned travellers, although so young. We had already been to third world countries including Thailand (me) and India (Dave), and parts of South America (me).
We loved this resort. It was gorgeous. But as we walked around Pattaya and spent a few days there we realised Pattaya is not a honeymooner's city. The resort was a totally different world than what awaited us on the outside of it's walls. While other cities in Thailand seemed to have a border between red light district and tourist hub, Pattaya did not. When relaying stories of our trip to an older acquaintance later on he was taken aback. He was surprised that a Travel Agent, specifically specialising in Honeymoons, would send us there. His wife was a seasoned travel agent and would never have done that, he said. Let's just say it was pretty interesting to constantly have bold attempts of solicitation made towards my new husband with me hanging off his arm.
Oh Pattaya, with it's not so nice beach running along side the dirty old white men. White men who were looking for pussy or cock
Awwww. I cannot believe how young we look.
Yes, catholic son, we know exactly what you're thinking. Bow-wow-chica- bow-wow. He almost had a near nipple slip in this photo. You're full of disappointment. I know. Just wait, more nipple to come.
That night we took off to a restaurant and had a prawn noodle dish and massaman curry. Then we came back and had a drink on the balcony, an awesome honeymoon romp all over the flower petals, then fell into a heap of wedded bliss and prawn dreams.
That is until I woke up to puke. Not just once. 9 times, all night long! How do I remember that? I found an old video I made of myself from the next day, relaying the gruesome story with the energy of a turtle who's taken a few too many hits off it's marine biologist's bong.
It's fair to say that night was the sickest I have ever been in my 33 years on this earth.
I woke up the next morning with the bathroom's bin next to my head. The hotel manager came into my room to check on me. As I was puking over the bin he was telling me how their water pipes had recently been contaminated with sewage. Awesome. Thanks. Great story, buddy. He recommended we take a tuk-tuk (covered-ute-people-mover) to the local hospital. I was admitted right away for severe dehydration and food (or drinking sewage) poisoning. To make matters worse - it was my 24th birthday.
Totally aware I look like shit.
I was also extremely bored because there was no english TV to be had, and this was before the days of having movies on our laptop. David's turn - he became the sickest he'd ever been in his life too. At one point he got up from the bed beside mine and headed to the bathroom looking like he was going to pass out. He had a nurse chasing him. "Mista, mista, mista!!! You come back. You lie down, you not go toilet." We heard David vomit and then fall to the floor. I was useless to get there with an IV attached to me. The next thing I know there's around 4 or 5 nurses crowded around David, waving salts in his face, and unzipping his pants. I can honestly tell you that unzipping his pants with 5 nurses around him is the thing that brought him back to us. They should really try this method in western hospitals.
Dave somehow managed to avoid being admitted to hospital even though we both admitted he needed to be. Of course we didn't tell them that. David wanted the freedom to leave and go back to our hotel and get more things if needed. And work on getting our travel insurance to cover our hospital bill, which I will tell you was no easy task.
I wish that had been the end of our troubles. Nope. Every day we had to return to the hospital to see if we could get our passports back. They were holding them as collateral to make sure we didn't skip town without paying the bill. We were having loads of issues with our travel insurance not wanting to pay up because my insurance paperwork had been made in my new married name, a name I had only held for 1 week and had no paperwork to support, except for my not yet official marriage certificate. Again, our travel agent who supposedly specialised in honeymoons, had screwed up big time. The "expert" should have known that a newly married woman would have next to no documentation supporting that new name. This was all happening back in the day, when long distance calls still applied, and it wasn't as easy as jumping on skype to get ahold of someone. We also had issues with the hotel manager re-negging on his sewage story to our travel agent so he didn't have to cover a night of our stay. We just wanted to wake up and get on with our days instead of spending a big part of every morning going to hospital to see if our billing had gone through. We finally had our passports released to us just hours before our flight was due to leave for Phuket.
Very purposeful nipple slip. David takes notes. This is how it's done.
Temple of doom. Just kidding. Nothing bad happened to us at this temple, but you know it should have. Bloody miracle.
Ahhhhh, some time to relax. Finally. That is until one of us drowned. Just kidding. We didn't, even a little.
The grand fisting of Golganthia, the fertility rock of doom.
Just kidding. That's probably not the real name of this giant vagina rock.
Nipple God has a sense of humour, people. It's no accident these two rock formations ended up next to each other. Fertility, it's why I come up here, (well, I have the phuking and the puking part of it down right).
We were feeling a bit shell shocked going onto Phuket so we hid out in our hotel for a few days. When we finally did venture out it was to find a laundry mat on our freshly rented motorbike. On our way through the busy streets of Phuket we had our next honeymoon mishap. Dave slammed on his brakes to avoid a motorcycle taxi that had sharply cut us off. We would have collided with the motorcycle taxi if he hadn't reacted so quickly. However, as a result of slammed brakes, the bike skidded to a halt and landed on top of both of us. Dave's leg was scraped up pretty badly and I got away with minor cuts and bruises. It was mostly shock. I burst into tears. I couldn't believe we had finally left the safety of our hotel for the first time only to end up in an accident. The taxi-man stopped, looked at us, smiled and then continued on to his rank. He didn't offer any help. A stranger came out of nowhere an lifted the bike off our left legs, and helped us get up. David had seen my tears was having a massive rush of testosterone and adrenaline. I watched him pop a can of spinach, call me Olive, and then take off after the taxi-man. It's a well known fact that logic doesn't fully develop until 25, and he was a year off. He told the taxi-man off, told him to go apologise to me. Taxi-man just yelled and cursed in Thai back at David, and even though he was three quarters of David's size, he swung a misguided punch. Myself and another taxi-man got in the middle to try and break it up. We went back to our hotel, and I cried some more. I was still feeling weak from my stay in hospital and just wanted to go back to Australia by this point.
Don't mess with the dude wearing his wife's high school basketball shirt.
Have you had a holiday from hell? Blog about it and link back to me and I'll share it on my Facebook page.