I just spent an hour on the train writing this post and read it back and was like man this makes me sound like a boring dickhead who can’t form sentences. So huh, here I am having a go again.
I’m heavily distracted by the fact that a) I’m not wearing a bra with my dress and am worried everyone in the world is staring at my saggy melons and b) this guy diagonal to me who thinks he’s a massive lad, talking loudly to his granddad about how he isn’t going with the boys to Amsterdam this summer.
Cool story bro. Pen that one in a memoir.
Anyway, I’M GOING TO THAILAND NEXT WEEK.
I think I mentioned this in a blog post a couple of months ago when I first got into the swing of just writing blog posts I actually enjoyed, rather than y’know, to try and fit in.
And before you click off, like FFS Hannah, you’re such a press trip bore. This one is in fact a family holiday, kind of.
My first foray out of ol’ Great Britain with my younger siblings since 2006.
Because last month they quit their graduate jobs and flew to Vietnam for a bit of an adventure. They plan to just travel about until their money runs out, which seems a pretty grand life plan to me.
I’m meeting them in Koh Samui which is an island to the east of Thailand before heading to Ko Pha Ngan for a few days.
The original plan had been for them to meet me in Bangkok and I’d booked myself a nice little direct flight with British Airways and was feeling all smug and OHHH but BA are the best and I’ll be so well looked after and it’ll be a breeze and then I’ll swan up at the airport and they’ll be holding a sign with my name on.
And then, at the beginning of the week, I got a Facebook message. HEY SISTER, they said, fancy jumping on an internal flight when you get to Bangkok and meeting us in Koh Sumai? ‘It has nice beaches’, was their selling point.
And so now, because I’m an obedient older sister, I am doing just that. I am ‘jumping’ on an internal flight, as though I was just ‘jumping’ on the Central Line down to Tottenham Court Road.
The reality is that I am fucking terrified.
I’ve traveled on my own before. I flew to New York aged 12 as an unaccompanied minor and was all full of sass and independence and COME AT ME WORLD. My mum used to call it ‘street-wise’.
But this just feels like it’s teetering on the edge of my comfort zone, which perhaps, is a stinkingly brilliant thing in itself.
Maybe I have become too comfortable with life. Too settled down and in a routine, and maybe a little bit of adventure (and ahem, staying in hostels) is just what I need to kinda shake my brain up and give me some perspective.
Also, I have, if I’m being too honest, kinda maybe possibly emptied my bank account a little bit for this trip.
I couldn’t really afford it after New York, but I knew I would live to regret the opportunity to just drink beer (Lol jk, do they have Argentine Malbec in Thailand?) and talk about life with the Gale clan whilst watching out over a tranquil blue ocean if I didn’t go and join them, if only for a week.
This will be the most time we’ve spent together since we were kids. Since the half terms where we’d lock ourselves away with Zelda: Ocarina of Time and a multi-pack of Disco crisps, and the summer holidays where we’d build sofa dens and watch 17 episodes of Sabrina The Teenage Witch in one day.
I’m excited to get to know them properly. The way we used to know each other as kids. I’m excited to know the adult Luke and Sam, to be the unbeatable little trio we used to be before life and growing up got in the way.
So, as terrified as I am for trying to negotiate flights in an alien airport (I have to get off the plane, go through customs, pick up my luggage and then re-check in, drop off my luggage, go through security and head straight for my gate all within what I fear is a much too small allotted amount of time), it is totally eclipsed by the excitement rumbling through my veins.
So yeah, it’s a lot of travel in a short space of time, and yes my body clock is going to be fuming with me – it’s only just about back on UK time – and maybe all these far flung trips aren’t exactly relatable, but they’re a one-off, I promise.
I will be back to sit at home in Harry Potter pants and order Dominos Hannah before you know it. But until then, I hope you’re ready for some serious Thailand spam.
Soz not soz.
All recommendations and tips, please throw them my way, you babe-eroos.