Day 7 – Washed Out


The first thing I heard when I woke up this morning, at 5.45AM because my body clock is now aligned with my new time zone, was the persistent drumming of heavy rainfall. I was thankful. Listening to the sound of rain, all snuggled under my blankets, always means that I will fall asleep a lot faster than usual as well as meaning I can get a few extra hours. So I had a fleeting vision of slightly damp sand making a mould of my body as I lay on the beach before drifting back to sleep.

But when I woke up again at 8AM Thai time the rain was torrential. Looking outside, with the morning light refracting off each drop, it looked as though it was snowing. Or it had been snowing but the humidity melted the snowflakes before we could see them. So I curled up with my phone to catch up on my blogging and Aussie Facebook goss.

The rain didn’t let up all day. Which would have been fine, except the severity of the rain meant that the power went out at about 10AM. No TV, internet, lift, or water pressure. So if we wanted to do anything we had to climb five flights of stairs. And forget about food: we had a breakfast of the snack foods we’d bought from the cashew factory a few days ago. After a few hours we got a bit stir-crazy. Dani was the first to succumb. The downpour was a lot calmer by now so she left and came back about 1000 words later (yes, I was blogging), only to tell me that the whole street was without power. So we stayed in the room, abusing the little power we had left in our phones. Mine lasted a bit longer because I broke up my phone usage with some reading (Pandemonium by Lauren Oliver if you’re interested.)

Eventually I just had to get out. Picking my way down stairs that are a few centimetres deeper than what I’m used to, I ventured out to see whether there was anywhere to get hot, proper food. The raindrops were only sporadic by this point but the puddles still looked deep enough to take my thongs from me. Dani was right and everything was closed, so I went to Jungceylon. I knew I was in trouble when I saw Macca’s was closed.

Yep: Macca’s. Closed.

So I ventured into Jungceylon and saw that a few food places were open but was too scared to buy something just in case Dani turned her nose up at it. I slipped back to the hotel in my now unwieldy shoes and told Dani of my discovery. We bickered back and forth for a while about where we would go. Doughnuts, pretzels, or steak and seafood. We were so indecisive that the power came back on while we were arguing.

With our clothes and faces slapped on we hurried out of the room only to discover that the lift still wasn’t working. So it was back down the stairs. We ordered our lunch from the little cafe in the foyer and Dani asked if the food, which included orange juice, could be brought up to our room. I felt horrible. The lift was still not working. I double checked that the man was still OK to bring our food up to us. He just smiled this brilliant smile and told us no worries. In the end he had to climb the stairs twice. Once to tell me that I couldn’t have my sandwich toasted and again to bring us our food. What a trooper.

Soon after lunch, Dani had a nap so I fell back on my reading/TV/blogging. She was out for almost two hours. During that time the sun made an appearance for about twenty minutes; just enough time to start planning a sojourn to the beach, before it started raining even heavier than it had this morning.


Our highlight for the day was when we went to get dinner. By some miracle, it had stopped raining long enough for the night markets to still be on. So we splurged a bit and got a lot more than we usually did, but still spending less than $10AUD a piece. It was so exciting: actually walking around and not getting wet while getting some interesting food. For the first time in my life, I tried octopus. It was mixed with egg, batter, and topped with a sauce that had the familiar tang of BBQ, but it was still octopus. Tastes a bit like calamari, to be honest.

And now, as I sit here writing this, the clouds are unloading again. I’m not holding out too much hope for our last day in Thailand tomorrow.

About Bec Graham

Bec Graham, 24, was born on the wrong continent. Everything from her burns-like-paper skin tone to her inability to cope with the slightest hint of a hot day suggests she should have been born under the gloomy skies and mild sun of the UK. She hopes writing will get her to her rightful home one day. Failing that, she scans the skies for a spinning blue police box, hoping to catch a lift back to the motherland.
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