NYE 2014 McDonald's tits and ballpits

Tues 31 Dec 2013
We woke up full of excitement for the last day of 2013.

After a swift, and peculiar 'western' breakfast, we set off toward the sky train. We were on a sightseeing mission; our plan was to catch the metro as far west as we could, walk through Chinatown, and see the palace and the reclining Buddha.

Still in shock about the clean, efficient (if a little expensive) transport network, we found our bearings and started the 25-minute walk toward the cultural hub of the old town.

About 10 minutes into our walk, we noticed that nearly everything was shut. New Year's Eve, it appeared, is a big deal here, and even chain restaurants and shops weren't going to open again until at least the second. Realising our hopes of soaking up the atmosphere in Chinatown would be fruitless, we found the river and jumped on the tourist barge.

What a way to see the city! The landscape rolled and stabbed into the bright sky with old and new side by side. Huge monoliths of modern steel and glass sat comfortably beside the ancient Buddhist temples, dilapidated warehouses squashed against 7-Elevens.

We rocked and bobbed into the dock and followed the other white people through a bustling market and into the palace grounds.

Absolute madness ensued. Suzie, who was still relishing being able to wear a top that didn't cover every inch of her body, was told she'd have to cover up, and that even though she was wearing a long dress and a pashmina to cover her shoulders, it wasn't appropriate and she would have to borrow a shirt—a pastel green oversized man's shirt.

After queuing twice, due to my intolerance to the new Thai-style bacteria, and at least an hour later, we were at last moving toward the entrance and the ticket office.

"You're not in India anymore," I thought as we were told it was £20 each for a ticket. Reluctantly, we paid and queued again.

It was worth it. Looking up from our map, we suddenly realised where we were. The dazzling array of buildings caked in crystals and gemstones shot light in every conceivable direction, and the sheer mass of gold was utterly mind-blowing.

We walked with jaws dragging along the floor and tried to take as many selfies as physically possible.

It really was a sight to behold, and we ambled slowly toward the main attraction: the Emerald Buddha.

The small statue is actually made of jade, and there are several versions of how and why it was made and how it got here.

Some say it was created in 43 BC in India and moved to Sri Lanka during the civil war. The King of Burma asked for the statue and other Buddhist icons to support Buddhism in his country, but the ship lost its way on the return journey and ended up in Cambodia. During a siege by the Thais, it was captured in Angkor Wat and once again moved to Chang Rai, where the king hid it.

The story goes that in the 15th century, lightning struck the pagoda and unearthed the Buddha, which was covered in plaster to protect its identity. It was to be moved, but the elephant was reluctant to travel, and this was taken as a sign. A few hundred years later, the plaster cracked, and the striking green could be seen within the plaster. Eventually, it was moved to the palace where it now sits and is dressed in gold in accordance with the seasons.

This tiny statue, less than half a meter high, is genuinely moving. Whether because of the Thais' clear devotion to it or the lavish surroundings, I'm not sure, but it was an indescribable experience.

Outside, we followed the Thais and dripped holy water onto our heads from the bud of the lotus flower.

By now, we were really very hungry. Keen to skip the throng of the market near the temple, we headed towards the reclining Buddha.

We found a shack selling noodle soup and, concerned by our lack of resistance to the new bacteria and the clear lack of any food hygiene, we asked for veg noodle soup.

Ignoring our request, we actually received mixed meat and fish noodle soup. The upside to this is the drink culture in Thailand. Back to normal. You're neither a criminal nor an alcoholic for having a beer with lunch, as was pretty much the case in what seemed like a distant India, and you can get a beer to enjoy with lunch anywhere. I found mine at a mildly inflated price off a street vendor, and this helped wash down the accidental intake of processed fish ball.

Full up of lovely spicy, fishy, soupy goodness, we enjoyed the short walk to the reclining Buddha, keen to get all the culture in before the inevitable hangover of New Year's Day.

A lot cheaper than the palace, but still a hefty price tag, we were again given a rare and welcome glimpse into what makes the Thais tick.

Barefooted, we walked cautiously into the room where the Buddha lays reclining. I looked up and found myself laughing hysterically, unprompted and a little embarrassingly. It was massive—absolutely huge. You can't even imagine how mammoth the golden horizontal enlightened one is. I've seen photos and read about it, but nothing really comes close to seeing him in person.

We heard echoing all around the huge hall the sound of clinking. Curious, we walked around past the feet and to the back, where we were given tiny gold coins. The theory is that you throw one coin in each bucket as you walk back out, presumably for prosperity and good luck. I'm glad we're already lucky because, with both of us sharing a bucket of coins, we ran out pretty quickly.

All cultured out, we flagged down several tuk-tuks before we found the right price and headed back to get ready.

Tuk-tuks here are different, to say the least. For one thing, they're about twice the price of a taxi (something we found out later). They also look like Tim Westwood's been moonlighting in Thailand. Pimped to the absolute max. Big spinning rims, LED under-lighting, and sound systems worthy of a warehouse party. These monstrosities of all that is decent are also souped-up powerhouses that have you holding on for your life. Saying this, it's a brilliant way to see the backstreets of a city I was already falling in love with.

The thought of a lovely New Year's Eve dinner was shattered as we suddenly realised the time. With most places serving dinner till 10 pm, we quickly changed our plans and found ourselves a worthy dining partner: Ronald McDonald. In previous years, we have found ourselves dining with Ron before a party in London, and so strangely it was fitting that we found ourselves back in the comfort and safety of his quite excellent but ultimately unsatisfying double cheeseburger. Already woozy from the pre-made premium strength portable vodka and Sprite, we smashed through a litre of water as an accompaniment to ward off the pain of the next morning. A decision that was later to be deemed very wise. Kob Kuhn Krup Ronald. Kob Kuhn Krup.

We jumped onto the sky train once again. This time it was bustling and full of excitement, the air thick with anticipation of the passing of another year and, for us, what had been the start of our lives on our terms, and hopefully more of the same.

We arrived at Central World, a huge shopping centre and the setting for what has been called the "Times Square of the East" (although I think that quote may have been me, it gives the gist of what we were walking into). A huge stage and booming hip-hop music led the way, as Suzie asked, "Is that Fatman Scoop?" A hip-hop artist famed for his unique technique of rhyming "Fatman Scoop" with... "Fatman Scoop."

Anxious that we had no telecommunication system and holding on to each other tightly, we moved through the crowds while I shouted out various destinations as a meet-up point.

We stood amongst thousands of New Year's revellers ready for a party and looked at the stage. Instantaneously, we looked at each other. We were thinking the same thing. I think Suzie said it first. "We're in the wrong place..." she said. "Yup," I answered quickly.

We moved back in the direction we came from, stopping every several minutes for a wee break. I'd stupidly broken the seal.

Finally, we found it. Not hard to miss; there were close to half a million Thais, expats, and travellers moving slowly but surely toward the entrance. Crushed and sweaty, we were penned in, holding onto each other and our home brew in equal measure. We squeezed and popped out onto the courtyard of Central World. We were in the right location but not the right area. This time, keen to avoid the crush, we clambered over banisters and under fences and found ourselves in the short queue for security. Full scanners and gnarly police greeted us. Although annoying, there is something that's always reassuring about tight security.

We saw a contraband table with bottles of confiscated booze in soft drinks containers similar to ours. We were sure to be stopped, so in keeping with our penny-pinching, we scoffed half of the potent liquid and thought we'd risk it. We'd been in this situation many times at festival gates with varying results and knew that it was 80/20 in their favour.

Suzie went first. Frisked, patted, and scanned, she got through, hooch in hand! Now it was my turn. Arms up to be patted, my motor skills failed me, and I dropped the Sprite bottle to the floor. The game was up.

To my surprise, a smiling, gun-toting police officer handed it back, and I was through too. It seemed the coins had been in our favour.

We were once again penned in, squeezing into the snaking queue toward the stage, trying not to trip up on the people who were sitting, obviously having held the spot for at least a few hours.

We found a space large enough for us to stand comfortably and far away enough from the thoroughfare not to get jostled, a skill we'd honed at various parties and raves in the years prior.

We'd got there just in time to see a Thai Justin Bieber swooning the crowds, and not being 'Beliebers,' looked longingly at the party stage 500m in the direction we'd come from, banging out bass-driven aural beauties. But it was quarter to 12, and to be honest, it seems we're getting on a bit and were quite happy to throw our hands in the air and follow the crowds in doing heart-shaped fingers. Something it seemed was very hard for Suzie to get the hang of.

The countdown began to the neon words of "Long Live the King" on every electronic display within a mile of our location.

And then the fireworks. My Christ, the fireworks. They seemed keen to blow the whole pyrotechnic budget in one 3-minute blast. It was absolute madness, and glorious in carnage. We stood absolutely mystified and speechless as the new year started and several thousand explosions of lights and colour emerged from every corner of our vision.

It ended almost as abruptly as it had started. We knew what we had to do: beat the crowds.

I grabbed Suzie by the hand, and she nodded, almost running back to the main road. We had indeed beaten most of them but got squashed in just by the party stage, metres from the road and the rest of our night's freedom. We managed to throw a couple of small, confined shapes before being picked up and carried to the exit.

Bursting for another toilet break, we broke free from the crowds and headed out to a posh hotel. We made it through the concierge unscathed and used the clean, serene services before taking a back road, beating the crowds, and following the street back towards our hotel.

We were keen for more party, and due to the previous night's fun in Soi Cowboy, we wanted to check out 'Nana,' an old two-storey shopping centre that had been turned into an 'Adult Playground' (the world's largest, if you believe the hype).

In stark contrast to Soi Cowboy, this was not a fun place. The clubs had hidden charges in every nook and cranny of their Thai-written notice boards, and the fat, ageing, pasty white men were in the mood for something darker than fun.

We got a beer and swiftly made an exit. Too early to retire, we headed back to the now familiar surroundings of Soi Cowboy. What a difference a street makes. Full of madness and fun, and with the seediness feeling like a distant memory, we felt comfortable, safe, and ready to fill the rest of our night with titters and frivolity.

The girls were scantily clad, but it seemed they wanted a party as much as us. They were all on the street outside the bars, laughing, drinking, dancing, and singing along to what I can only guess are Thai classics. Suzie Wongs had a full karaoke set up outside, and we sat for a beer to rest our weary feet and soak up the atmosphere. One girl who had the voice that would make an RSPCA inspector shudder led proceedings, and she was loving life. We had a dance outside for a while and then opened the curtains for another beverage. We sat at a table and watched as the patrons took to the stage.

An Irish lad bounded in and introduced himself with a more than enthusiastic drunken handshake. "You've got to go next door!!" he said, excited. "It's just like this... but better."

An Aussie friend of his confirmed this and told us we had to go.

Never one to turn down a recommendation, we headed over and found the whole place filled with polystyrene balls. There was dancing and drinking, and every so often a small Chinese man would emerge from beneath the balls with a huge smile before once again sinking to the depths.

Suzie clambered over into the pit. I followed, keen to not repeat the mistake of a clearly inebriated middle-aged man who fell headfirst. I took my time. It didn't help. I missed the step and fell backwards, sinking as if in quicksand.

Once I'd found my balance, we found the bar.

"Two Baileys." (Don't judge, it was a nightcap.)

"What!!?" she said.

"Two Baileys."

"What do you want!?"

"TWO BAILEYS!!"

"I know," she said! "Sit down."

After what will surely be a memorable night, we were tucked in, not too late and not too drowsy, and we made use of the opportunity to wish the parents a happy new year.

And what a year it's been! I'm not going to bang on about it, cause that's sort of what the blog is for, but 2013 marks a significant step change in our lives, and I think I speak for both of us when I say we're the happiest we've been.

We know that jobs will have to be gained and money found, but we feel like we've gone off the beaten track, and we're now both confident we can live life on our terms. People often say what happens when you go 'back to reality,' but to me, this is reality. Worrying about the TV you have, paying extortionate rents, buying low-calorie this and high-protein that, stressing about whether or not the clothes you're wearing are in season, and working a job that you hate just to climb up an imaginary ladder seems to me to be a lot less real than this. As people often say, this isn't the dress rehearsal, and I'm really very lucky to have found someone who has the balls (luckily metaphorically) to share this with me.

Here's to 2014.

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