Thursday 18th

It is my brother’s last day on the island. Tomorrow he flies to Korea for a show that he has been preparing and rehearsing for this week, and I have two more nights on my own in Ko Samet before my flight to New Zealand. I feel so at home here that I’m fine on my own. 

Last night we went to several bars, including to the flourescently graffitied Audibar where the inviting little pots of paint sit on the bar for anyone to add to the thousands of messages, initials and drawings on every available surface. Walls, speakers, tables and the well tanned chests of the many topless Thai men who will oblige. I found a small patch of wall by the door to add my mantra ‘All I know is love’ which does look like touristy cheese I know, but comes from a song by Sivani Mata who helped me reach a place of peace and love that enabled me to let go of a bad thing before. 

The accompanying gin, the warm night breeze and the banging dance tunes meant we were soon dancing on Audi’s beach, while huge illuminated jellyfish twirled and swayed from the trees, happy tourists sipped their luminous cocktails and motorbikes and trucks sailed past with their gleefully shouting occupants. 

It was a very happy night. At one point we were leaving Lima bar and a bottle of beer needing finishing off. ‘Take it,’ the owner said, so I was suddenly that annoying girl on the back of a motorbike, swigging a beer and shouting ‘Fundeeeeeee!’ as we cruised away from the bar. How many rules of England could I break in one moment? I did make my brother stop and look for a glass recycling bin though. 

Bottle properly disposed of, late night noodles purchased, we sailed back thought the dark, with him driving extra slow so he could savour the moment. With him leaving Thailand tomorrow, he was as mesmerised by the beauty of it all as me, and with the warm night air washing over our faces and arms, he marvelled at the beauty of the high jungle either side of the road and the sound of a thousand night creatures chirping and singing and croaking. 

Lessons:

*That alluring fluorescent orange paint that everyone gets creative with on the walls of Audibar does not wash off your hands, clothes or phone case. But that is totally fine 

*Thai people don’t swim in the sea until the sun starts to go down at about 4pm, so you can have an entire bay to yourself most of the day. 

*Sunrise is 6am, and is just glorious over the Sangthien beach, and there is not a single human around. 

*If you see what appears to be a fucking DRAGON leisurely walking along the empty beach at 6am, it is in fact a Thai water lizard and although as big as a deckchair, is not dangerous, but you’d be right to keep your distance because apparently it can bite, or smack you hard with its tail. I was so scared I hid in the empty bar (with a broom for protection) googling ‘massive lizard thailand’ until it disappeared. 

Friday 19th. 6.49pm

My brother is leaving in a minute. He’s just having a last meditation and then we’ll go down to town on the bike and I’ll say goodbye at the pier and then I’ll hang out a bit and get myself a taxi back at some point. Of course I’m scared. And sad. And suddenly lonely. It would be easy to stay here in my little room and – Ooh shall I take an anxiety pill? 

Look, I get to have another bike ride with my brother, I get to wave his boat off the island, and I get to experience Ko Samet at night on my own. Could be awful, could be amazing. Could be just boring. I’ll be fine. 

19.27

Oh my heavenly father the tears. Such a streaming sobbing mess of tears right now. Sitting at the pier on a bench under a streetlight trying to work out what that’s all about. 

Lonely. Very much that. Love for my brother. Loads of that. Grateful. Yeah that’s not what the tears are about. 

I was crying as soon as we got on the bike. He said, ‘You nervous?’ I had to pause to steady my voice. ‘Probably,’ I said. ‘Part sad, part scared’. Voice already cracking.

‘You’ve done so well to overcome your fears,’ he said. ‘I know. I have.’ 

Tears on a bike are great cos the wind just pulls them away from your face as you fly through the night and no-one can see. 

I wanted to take a picture of us, our last bike ride through the Ko Samet darkness, but it wouldn’t capture it. I saw the shadow of us as we went under each streetlight, the shape of us two, him holding his luggage and me holding his shoulder, safe with him, listened to and looked after by him. So relaxed and peaceful, hair blowing, bare tanned arms loving the warm air, orange-paint-spattered trousers rolled up to let the breeze get to my heat swollen mosquito bitten legs. Him with headband holding back sunbleached hair, laptop bag over one shoulder, necklace from mum round his neck. Barefoot, earnest, fearless, my brother. 

Tears tears tears. 

He started talking and I was glad I didn’t need to speak as my face was screwed up in tears. He drove really slow, several bikes overtook us, as he started saying, ‘You need to not settle for even an inch below your greatest dream. You can be whatever you want – don’t say I don’t have faith in myself, that doesn’t make sense.’

‘Uhuh.’

And I don’t want to sound too negative but some of the people that you tell me about, it sounds like they are not great for you, and will hold you back. They won’t understand that you need to do something totally far away from their priorities.’ 

‘Hmm’

‘And you can have wisdom like how to overcome fear or how to cope with anxiety or all these techniques but that’s just tricks to play the game, when really you can step out of it and realise it’s a game. And that you don’t need to play. Reality is more than the tricks of surviving the game. I know I can’t explain it but once you realise it, once you feel it, you will know that’s what I was talking about.’

At the pier a private speedboat was waiting for him, of course. He hugged me and said I love you. I said I love you too – ooh so many tears now – he said, ‘I have enjoyed serving you and seeing you be so brave. I’m very proud of you.’

I wanted to say ‘me too’ but had no voice. He jumped on the boat and as it left the pier he shouted ‘Bye!’ 

‘Bye!’ I tried but it came out broken. 

And his boat disappeared into the dark sea and I have been sitting here for half an hour now crying and typing and catching all my tears in my filthy tank top. No bloody sleeves in Thailand. 

Need to drink a lot of water now, that is very dehydrating.

And here on this empty concrete pier out of Ko Samet, as a bizarre white girl is crying on her own on a bench, someone over there is gently playing a guitar in the darkness. 

Thank you my crazy little brother. You are something magical. It has been a privilege to have a week with you. I hope I remember the wisdom and strength you showed me.