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“Hold on tight!” I knew she was grinning as she said it, even if all I could see was the back of her head, but I obeyed nonetheless, wrapping my arms tighter around her waist as we zoomed around a particularly sharp bend. My stomach lurched forward with a jolt and I was grateful that I hadn’t had time for breakfast that morning. A quizzical-looking bull passed us by in the back of a trailer. The roads of Koh Samui weren’t the safest, but they were infinitely more so than those of Bangkok, which is why we decided to rent motorbikes for the measly sum of 200 Baht a day and make the most of all the island had to offer. Except for the fact that I couldn’t ride a motorbike. Luckily, Jenny had many talents and being sturdy enough to safely maneuver a weather-worn Honda Wave 125i with a passenger riding pillion was one of them. I didn’t much mind not driving; sure it may have been pretty bad ass to feel the wind in your face with a front row seat to the open road, but I’ve always been the type of person to be content with simply observing from the safety of the back seat. As we drove down to what had become our favourite spot on Chaweng Beach, I couldn’t wait to strip down and take refuge in the coolness of the waves. Along with Eva, the third musketeer to our trio, we rushed into the sea, and waited for the waves to play their game with us once more. We’d stand in the shallow, waiting for a big one to come along and submerge us. When we’d resurface, we’d be giggling like kids. it almost felt like a baptism - rinsed away from dirt, sweat and bad thoughts. We were in the second week of our Asian adventure but that night’s big event was the real reason for our trip. The Full Moon party was already in full swing by the time our speedboat reached the island. We downed our beers, got our neon glow paint on, and made our way to Hat Rin beach. It must have been packed with thousands of 20-somethings, all bopping along to different music from the different bars that stretched along the beach. My little island hometown was no stranger to the plight of being invaded by trashy tourists for the sole purpose of partying the night away on a beach. This felt the same, only on a larger, wilder scale. Jenny and Eva had struck up what seemed like a hilarious conversation with a group of German guys. One of them approached me. “I guess you don’t speak German like your friends,” “You guessed right.” “Where are you from?” The usual conversation followed; the one I’d had countless times before, followed by the same predictable responses. After some flirty small talk, he took my hand and led me for a stroll, keeping closer to the sea than to the throngs of parties. Anyone who saw us might have thought we were a loved up couple, walking along one of Thailand’s most famous beaches, under the moonlight. The irony of it hit me like a mojito bucket to the face, along with something else; I had been here before. A flashback to a night like this on a smaller beach, some 8 years ago, where a girl I used to like had done the same thing. There had been a full moon that night too and nothing of significance had occurred that night either. We travel to discover new experiences, to expand our knowledge of the world, to expose ourselves to the unfamiliar - but It’s funny how you can go halfway across the world only to come across the same mediocre encounters you’ve already had before, in your home country no less. But then, I remember the near-fatal motorbike rides and our silly but exhilarating waves’ game and the dust lifts. At the risk of sounding like a Shonda Rhimes voice-over, sometimes we find mediocrity in the supposedly memorable, magical moments, but then, we also find magic in the mundane ones, and that’s what makes it all worth it.