Friday, July 4, 2014

Where's my goddamn fanny?

I said we didn't do anything touristy during our stay in Koh Samui, hence the intentionally boring last post.

But I had some unfinished business from my first visit to this place in 2011, and since my desire to force myself out of the resort to do literally something during my fortnight on the island chimed with Oliver's desire to do something during his significantly longer stay, tracking down a rock supposedly shaped like lady parts was as good a flimsy motivation as any.

I'll take what I can get.

Hin Ta and Hin Yai Rocks:
The Return

I first read about these titillating rocks (actually, that's the one part they don't claim to have) four years ago, back when I hadn't left my country for seven years and hadn't ever been further afield than Tenerife (as a toddler) but was still somehow trusted to write knowledgeable websites about exotic climes for some very high-profile clients.

To be honest, the type of stuff those clients want on their sites is generic enough that my write-ups haven't changed much since I actually spent time in these places. They don't want me to elaborate with my real experiences of getting pestered by sarong sellers every 10 metres and dealing with night-long karaoke - just the banal, friendly stuff about plunging into azure waters and kicking back on a white sand beach. When they stop paying me to be comfortably repetitive I'll raise my game.

I didn't imagine that I'd ever see these nature-sculpted innuendos in the flesh/stone, but I filed them on my mental list of things to check out if I ever gave in to the desperately enthusiastic propaganda I was writing and set off on an edifying cross-country adventure. Six months into my travels, my unambitious dream came half-way true.

I got plenty of photos of the penis rock(s) that day, but was robbed of the chance to see the matching vagina due to rising water levels or something. She must have been excited to see m- oh, I made that groaner three years ago too.

I didn't expect that I'd ever have a reason to come back to this island in my life, what with there being so many other places to explore everywhere, but then I'd only been travelling for six months at the time and hadn't got knackered and disillusioned with the whole thing yet. He doesn't know he's on course to spend the rest of his life actually living in this part of the world, treading water in cheap prices at a cost to his quality of life and sanity, so desperate for entertainment and a sense of purpose in life that he forms a Pussay Patrol to see a rock that some people think looks a bit like part of the female anatomy just because they've been primed by the more convincing male members in the vicinity.

Without a tour guide we were stuck trying to find the pareidolic rock for ourselves. This is the closest thing I found that wasn't just a crevice, though willing your brain to interpret eroded limestone labia everywhere you look isn't great for your psychological wellbeing, so we abandoned the noble quest after 30 minutes or so.

Let the lady have some dignity.


It took a while before I stopped seeing phallic and yonic imagery everywhere I looked
(if this post has taught us a new word, then it hasn't been a complete waste of time)

Every stretch of tropical beach in the world has a dilapidated shack bar blasting Bob Marley and decorated with imagery of Bob Marley. Just in case you're too innocent to get the message of what's being offered, this one handily spells it out for you, and then gets away with it with some pandering small print (thanks to Oliver for having better eyes than me)

This place combining a puny waterfall, obstructed viewpoint and inoperative zip-lines doesn't feature on the repetitive day trip itineraries. Maybe because it isn't finished yet

Or it could be that it's not really worth visiting unless you're insecure about having travelled half-way across the island just to see some rocks shaped like private parts. At least those were convincing - what's that supposed to be, a heart? At least carve it into tits or something


  1. Replies
    1. Rage is the only emotion I feel. The people must keep believing that.