The rickety
old bus wound its way over tracks that snaked across the vibrant Thai countryside. Here, away from the tourist spots, the real Thailand revealed itself, the places the brochures gloss over in favour of five-star resort-hotels and smiling white people in front of temples. Flimsy wooden shacks with corrugated tin roofs dotted the countryside; homes and restaurants, grocery stores and petrol stations. Outside, old men reclined on chairs, smoking cigarettes and watching the world ease by. As far as retirement plans went, it appealed to Ana. Just sitting in the warmth reading a book all day, perhaps with a loyal dog snuggled at her feet. And a cocktail; definitely a cocktail. She waved at one of the men as they drove past and when he nodded back she felt inexplicably sad.
They passed forests and beaches, villages and temples, the sky a rich opal, unencumbered by clouds. Stray dogs darted across the road, narrowly avoiding the bus as it veered from side to side.
They commandeered a table on the lower deck, Ana
choosing to sit opposite Ricky rather than next to him. She didn’t want to face Paul and Rachel making out for the duration of the drive.
Behind them sat Ricky’s travel companions, Josh and Lillian, the quintessential American backpackers. Josh was impossibly handsome; he looked like he was carved out of solid oak, with a wooden personality to match. He wore his hair in matted blonde dreadlocks, and a shark tooth necklace hung round his neck in an apparent effort to tick every box of the stereotype checklist. And yet somehow he was the better of the two. Ana hated Lillian the moment she set eyes on her. She knew she shouldn’t judge on first impressions, but where was the fun in that?
As blonde and tanned as Josh, she carried herself with the swaggering confidence that all Californians seemed to possess, speaking in mindless platitudes and gasping in patronising awe at everything they passed.
‘Oh my gawd Josh, look at their little houses. These people are so precious.’
‘I bet they could teach us a thing or two about spirituality,’ agreed Josh, his hand nestled snugly between Lillian’s thighs.
Ana leaned over the table and beckoned Ricky to her.
‘I hate your friends,’ she whispered.
‘Me too. I told you so.’
Rachel nudged her sister. ‘They’re right behind us.’
‘They can’t hear us. They’re probably meditating or healing their chakras or something.’
‘Not a bad idea,’ said Paul. ‘It’s gonna be a long day. And night,’ he said, winking at Rachel.
‘Get a room you guys,’ said Ana. ‘Oh wait, you do, and I’m in it too.
’
Rachel smiled slyly. ‘I’m sure you can find alternative accommodation.’
Ricky choked on his water and coloured. ‘What a beautiful day,’ he said, a spectacularly unsuccessful attempt to redirect the conversation. Ana just shook her head in that weary big-sister way. At twenty-eight she was only two years older than Rachel, but she liked to pretend she had wisdom far beyond her years, when really it had been Rachel who had saved her
all those months ago.
A particularly fierce bump in the road jolted Ana from her thoughts, lifting everyone from their seats and spilling drinks all the way down the bus.
‘You guys okay back there?’ said Ricky to Josh and Lillian.
‘Of course, man,’ said Josh. ‘What’s a few bumps on the road to enlightenment?’
‘Enlightenment? Fuck, I thought we were going to the beach,’ said Ana.
‘It’s okay,’ said Rachel. ‘I’m told Enlightenment has a great cafe.’
‘You can mock us if you like, we don’t care,’ said Lillian with thinly disguised distaste. ‘We’re on a journey of sensual pleasure, experiencing whatever the world wishes to throw at us.’
‘I can think of a few things I’d like to throw at them,’ said Ana under her breath. Only Rachel heard and she stifled a giggle.
‘Check that place out,’ said Paul, sitting forward and pointing like a child as they sped past another unspoilt white-sand beach. Out on the sea tiny fishing boats bobbed on the horizon, the men hauling nets out of the water.
‘Can’t we just go there instead?’ suggested Ana. ‘It looks
so tranquil. So peaceful.’ She tried to snap a picture but by the time the camera was ready it was far behind them.
‘Come on Ana, you’ve got beaches back home. Where else can you experience a Full Moon Party?’ said Paul.
‘Paul, Portobello Beach is covered in sewage and dog shit and it’s about minus-twenty degrees all year round.’ She gazed forlornly out the window. ‘This is different.’
‘It’ll be fun Ana, I promise,’ agreed Rachel. ‘We’re gonna make sure you have a good time, aren’t we Ricky?’
‘Uh, yeah, sure.’
‘And stop staring out the window like that Ana. You look like you’re auditioning for a music video.’
From the front of the bus the driver shouted in broken English that they would arrive in fifteen minutes. From there it was only a short walk to their evening accommodation. Ana had already checked the route on her phone and saved it to the offline maps and taken a screenshot just in case.
She put her head back, closed her eyes and tried to get some sleep.
It pained her to say it, but Paul was right. It was going to be a long day.
They rattled to a stop and the doors wheezed open, the sticky heat invading the bus. The occupants disembarked to a chorus of hoots and hollers, racing down the narrow aisle. Someone’s elbow caught Ana on the side of the head and she winced in pain and annoyance, but mostly annoyance. A tall guy in a Hawaiian shirt fell off the bus and landed in a heap in the dirt. He was drunk already, his friends helping him to his feet, his legs wobbling and unsteady. The first casualty of war.
‘Full moon!’ he cried out, and someone else whooped in agreement
.
Ana sighed and leaned back in her chair, happy to let everyone else off first.
‘So this is what Hell looks like,’ she said to herself. Still, it could be worse.
At least here she could get drunk.