Bloody goat heads covered in flies lie sopping wet in a stack on the table, their guts sorted next to them in piles (pictured). Horns fill the air and whirl around pedestrians dodging all imposing obstacles. We are moving targets trying not to get our heels clipped by any moving vehicle be it motorized or pulled by man. Amputees reach at us for money with arms that once had hands. Child beggars carry their unclothed baby siblings on one hip while begging for money with a free hand. Handicaps that I've never witnessed come hobbling past. A lady with feet curved so far foreword that she is walking on the tops of them, staggers by. Smells of both good and bad, food and feces. We balance on what's left of the sidewalk that's under construction by men dressed in their tattered civilian clothes. When we finally reach the restaurant it's heaven to be in such silence. We eat the famous butter chicken at Moti Mahal restaurant, and then head back to brave the streets once again. The monsoon rains begin their downpour so we take shelter in the carriage of a vacant taxi bike on the sidewalk. Once the rain slows we make our way back to the guesthouse. We're done for the day. There's only so much India one can handle in a single afternoon.The following morning we are awakened by a call to prayer of the Muslim Mosque across the street. Once it stops we fall back asleep until it resumes an hour later and awakes us for the day. After we get dressed for the day, Olivier wants to check out the roof terrace of our guesthouse so we head up the stairs and enter the atmosphere of loudspeaker Muslim chanting. As we look over the ledge, thousands of Muslims come into view kneeling on mats facing Mecca inside the open mosque while the words and prayers of the loudspeaker pour over them
dressed in their traditional white garb. Women stand in a designated area along the edge of the mosque. We later read that this is the Mosque of Friday. The surrounding streets have been blocked off for men to pray in. It is Ramadan right now so the Muslim world revolves even more around prayer than usual. Olivier has decided he wants a tailor made suit so we go to get him measured and then have a nice dinner for our last night in Delhi. Tomorrow we will head to the Taj Mahal in Agra and then on to Varanasi.
In the early hours of the morning, we are awakened by a pounding and yelling down the hall. A man is moving his way down the hallway and banging on every door. He finally makes it to our door and startles both Olivier and I. Olivier jumps up and waits for the pounding to subside. Once it does, he opens the door to look down the hall where the man is pounding on another door, and realizes it's the bell hop. Olivier gives him a "what the hell?" look and closes the door. In the morning when we are checking out, the guy behind the front desk wishes us farewell and then gestures to the guy who woke us up and insists we tip him. Ummm.... absolutely not. "He woke us up!" Olivier accuses. "Yes." says the man very matter-of-fact, "Tip him". NO. We refuse. We later find out it was for 3am prayers, but that doesn't mean we should tip him. Do we look like Muslims? I could see tipping him if he had skipped our door because he remembered we were westerners but since he didn't, I'd say he failed. And thus we failed to tip.
blond girls from the UK. We go to a restaurant on the beach and have dinner and drinks while painting each other in neon paint since it is a glow party. At about eleven o'clock we walk to Sunrise Beach where the party is held. We pay three dollars and get snazzy wristbands. We walk down the entry lane and and that's when I see how massive this party really is. People cover the cove for about one third of a mile. There are thousands. Stands are set up for alcohol sales all along the beach. We choose our poison and they pour the short bottle into a bucket with a mixer and some ice, give me four (three of them unnecessary) straws, and off I go. We jump into the waves near the flaming sign and start raging. The waves are clear and penetrated by the bright light of the flames that light a huge sign that reads FULL MOON PARTY 2010. We jump up on the platform attached to the sign and dance like possessed maniacs while the heat of the flames threatens to remove our skin. We jump back into the water from the platforms and are thrashed by the waves causing us to spill our alcohol into the ocean. We go up mushroom hill to examine the sheer magnitude of this party. My God it's huge. The music is bumping all along the beach and is filtered into the bar in which we sit. We drink and take photos for an hour and then head back down to the beach where we grab some food to absorb the alcohol. We make our way to some more music an booze buckets. People are making out, passed out, or pissing into the ocean like it's a urinal. What a display. We dance on the crowded beach where everyone is soaking wet from going in the waves. Two of the boys in our group make out. At one point I stop a fight heating up between Jamie and a drunk Italian. We go on to discover the flaming rope of death. Two Thai guys are on platforms five feet in the air turning a rope doused in lighter fluid and raging with flames. Guys jump it until 
they trip and it burns them causing them to scurry away from it with burn marks to the legs and arms. This is most likely just an attempt to eliminate the rowdy obnoxious ones with too much testosterone from the party. Just near that is an extremely janky slide with a hump in it that is one story high and shoots you through an arch of fire. The boys go down it naked and suffer the consequences for days. Toward the end of the night on some benches among some passed out people, the sun finally begins to rise and cast its glow over the remaining party animals still raging on. We hop on a table and continue to dance. I sit down near the water and the others join me while the sunrise becomes broad daylight. I get back in the ocean and then Grant decides to put me on his back and do a 'same shorts run' where he runs up to people with the same neon shorts as him and yells, "Same sorts! We have the same shorts!" Grant bought his shorts locally where Full Moon Party merchandise is sold, and everyone goes to get their gear, so you can imagine we're making contact with a lot of guys wearing neon pink trunks. I've had enough of the Full Moon Party so
Rich and Jamie agree to walk back to the bungalows with me. People are staggering and limping away from the beach back to their own bungalows for the day. Some have stepped in glass and are bandaged up and most are just still hammered. We fall asleep for the day and in the evening Rich, Grant and I decide to get dinner on our beach called Sunset Beach. What a treat it is to have seen the sunrise on Sunrise beach, and now get to watch the sunset on Sunset beach. Tomorrow we will all part ways and I will spend the next few days lounging on Bottle Beach on the northern tip of Koh Pangan.