Koh Phangan had truly been a retreat in every sense of the word. On my last full day on the island, it was time for one final adventure:  a daring scooter ride to the hidden beach of Haad Yuan.

Reaching it wasn’t going to be easy.  The route involved a brutal climb through the jungle, rough, uneven roads, and steep 25% gradients. Well, at least this time I was making the attempt in broad daylight, unlike my nighttime recon mission the evening before.

But then, there it was: a sign standing boldly in my path, reading: 

“No automatic scooters allowed on this road. Only 4WD vehicles or motorcycles with a high skill level.” 

Goodness knows how a bicycle would even survive this climb.

But I just powered through, grinding my way up to the top, and then came a wicked, bumpy descent all the way down to the beach.

Haad Yuan was absolutely stunning.  It was that kind of secret paradise beach everyone dreams about, and yes, it really exists.   There was even a fully functioning resort right there:  bungalows, food, beanbags, tables, and cold beer. I couldn’t help but marvel,  How on earth did they get all the materials out here?

To top it all off, there were signs proudly announcing that the place runs 24 hours on weekends and during the full moon as a party beach.  What on earth?

The answer to this question came loud and clear in the form of twelve roaring jet skis arriving in formation.  It looked like they were about to invade the beach like a miniature Normandy landing.  The lead skipper, a Thai local, made the first landing and began directing the entire group ashore.  Turns out, they were all Aussies.

So much for my peaceful, secluded, private beach moment. One of them barged right into the spot where I’d ordered my food earlier and shouted, “Give me 12 beers!”

I just stayed put on my beanbag and trading futures without even flinching, pretending not to notice the chaos.  On one hand, sure, I was annoyed — but realizing they were only there for some quick beers before bouncing calmed me down. I figured I could keep on chilling once they left.

And sure enough, that’s exactly what happened.

Before dusk, there was just enough time to wander around the area, especially the wooden walkway on stilts that stretched along the far side of the cliffs.  There I came across several long-term residents — people practicing yoga, artists working, just quietly living their beachside life.

I struck up a quick conversation with them, and they confirmed what I had suspected:  they lived on this beach permanently.  And yes, it definitely came alive during the full moon parties, since it was just a short boat ride from Haad Rin.  That’s how people really got here.  They didn’t haul scooters over the jungle mountain like I had.

That scooter ride back was hall fun, especially the downhill stretch.  Afterward, I stumbled upon a random little haircut and shave spot, and by the time they were done, I looked like a brand new man.  Then it was time for a massage and a nap.

Later that night, there was indeed a low-key party happening — not at Haad Rin itself, but near a lighthouse perched on a different cliff. Getting there was half the adventure: you had to walk along wooden stilts over the water during high tide at night, which made it feel super cool and gave me flashbacks to where I’d been earlier that day.

The party itself was… well, modest.  There was some decent techno playing, but with only about six people there, it wasn’t exactly raging.  Honestly it didn't matter.  The beach chairs facing the ocean, the lighthouse, the rocks — it was an ultra-chill, scenic spot. Perfect for kicking back, pulling out my phone, and trading options right in the middle of U.S. market hours.  Some of my positions were on fire, and I just sat there thinking,  Now this… this is the life.

Afterward, I rode my scooter back in the pitch dark after midnight to my bungalow and had one of the best night’s sleep yet.

The next day was shaping up to be a marathon:  a long boat-and-bus journey back to Bangkok, which I was honestly dreading.  Not only would I miss out on some of the bigger parties still happening on the island, but I was up against a hard deadline:  May 29th, the day my passport would be ready for pickup at the embassy.  If I missed that date, I’d be stuck waiting an entire week because of an upcoming major Thai public holiday.

So, there were two ferry options: 8 a.m. or 1 p.m.  I chose the later slot.  Sure, I knew it meant arriving half-dead on Khaosan Road in the middle of the night, but I’d rather start the day relaxed.

So I grabbed a coffee, had breakfast, took my time packing up, and eventually boarded the Lomprayah ferry. The ferry ride was smooth as always.  But of course, my phone didn’t charge, so I had to mess around trying to juice it up on the boat.

When we disembarked, I realized (too late) that I’d left my charger behind. Damnit!  I only figured it out once I was already on the bus. Speaking of the bus, there was a short wait, but then, unexpectedly, it took off without me.

I thought, What the fuck?!

But then I looked around and realized a bunch of other people from the boat hadn’t gotten on, either.  Whatever, I shrugged.  This is Thailand.  Sure enough, the bus eventually circled back to pick us up, and from there, we continued the long, long, long journey to Bangkok.

Midway through the trip, we stopped at a food court and the service there was exceptional.  Smiles everywhere, incredibly kind and welcoming people. It felt like the version of Thailand you always hear about, the one that lives in travel legends and postcards.

I couldn’t help but wonder, Why were they being so nice to us?

Then it clicked:  we were the bus full of Western backpackers, and all of us had been friendly and respectful.  The locals were used to dealing with nonstop waves of Asian tour buses.  The dynamics there didn’t seem to carry the same kind of easy, cordial interactions.  Westerners, it seemed, had always had a longer, more laid-back, and often better relationship with Thai locals. It actually took me a lot of searching and explaining (with ChatGPT’s help) to fully understand the reasons behind that.

But eventually, the bus rolled on — all the way to Bangkok. And yes, when I finally arrived at Khaosan Road, I was half-dead from exhaustion.

Picking up the passport the next day was surprisingly easy:  just walk in, show some ID, pass through security at the embassy, and there it was. Finally!

Sure enough, the old passport was there too, complete with the so-called “nonexistent” water damage that had triggered all this in the first place. I asked one of the staff, "How do I get a Thai stamp in the new passport?" and she replied, "You have to contact immigration.  You don't need a letter from us because it already says in the old passpor that we canceled it"  Ok then.

I felt elated to finally have the new passport in hand but the thought of more bureaucracy didn’t exactly thrill me. Still, it was to be expected.

I had wisely booked four nights at a nicer hotel near Khaosan Road, complete with a pool and free breakfast, just in case extra time was needed.  And indeed, it was.  But unfortunately, as soon as I settled in, the negative vibes of Bangkok started creeping back in — that familiar, restless energy. Honestly, I already wanted to leave, practically as soon as I’d arrived.

But of course, I at least had to attempt going to Thai immigration the next day.  

What a nightmare.

I first headed to the old immigration office, the one I had been to before COVID, housed in that impressive, large building.  But when I got there, they told me they’d relocated. “IT Square.”

Alright then. A scooter whisked me over, and after hitting more than a few dead ends, I finally tracked it down on the top floor. What I found was a run-down area packed with people, swarming in disorganized chaos.  Apparently they had outsourced the division and paid some cheap rent to this horrific location.  

I looked at the crowd and quickly estimated that just getting a consultation to get a queue number (yes, a queue before the actual queue)  would take hours, if not swallow up my entire afternoon.

So I reasoned, There’s got to be a smarter way to play this, and decided right then and there not to wait in line.

Instead of battling the immigration chaos, I noticed there were massage places right there on the same top floor — and honestly, that sounded much more appealing.  So I treated myself to a two-hour Thai massage, just meters away from all the swirling madness.

My plan was simple:  finish the massage just before the office closed at 4:30 p.m., then swing by immigration to gather some basic information. There was no point even trying to push through the full stamp transfer process that day.  That had been my original goal, but clearly, the situation had changed.

The plan worked perfectly.

When I finally spoke with the immigration officer, she was surprisingly friendly. 

She asked, “Do you want to get a stamp transfer, or do you want to extend your stay in Thailand?”

I said, “Both, if possible.”

She smiled and replied, “You can, but it’s going to take a long time. You’re the last person right now. We’re working overtime, but it probably won’t be done until 8 p.m. Are you sure you want to wait that long?”

I was honestly amazed they were even willing to process it so late. She then explained why it was so packed — a major Thai public holiday (the Queen’s birthday) was coming up, which explained the overwhelming crowds.

I explained to her, “So here’s the deal.  I just got this passport, and I’m already worried about the pages filling up.  That’s what caused this whole mess in the first place, with my government insisting I renew early.  That took a month out of my life.  So now, every time I get a stamp or visa, I’m constantly thinking about how many pages it’ll eat up..   So ...... if I get a stamp transfer and an extension, that’s going to take up two pages, right?”

She smiled and said, “Yes!  You’re smart — how did you know?  One page for the stamp, one page for the extension”

I grinned and told her, “Well, I’ve been through this before in Pattaya"

She just laughed at that one.

Then I added, “I really don’t want to use up two full pages with stamps. Is there any other way I can do this?”

Without missing a beat, she replied, “Sure, just go to the airport with both passports, and they’ll stamp the new one with a normal exit stamp.”

Say what?

I blinked and said, “Really?  How come nobody told me this before?  My Embassy told me that I had to come and talk to you guys.”

She smiled slyly and said, “Well, let’s just keep this our little secret, shall we?”

I grinned and leaned in with my next question: “So, if I do this, fly out somewhere, come back, and get stamped in again — that gives me another 60 days in Thailand, right?”

She gave a knowing little nod and a look and the whispered to me, "Yes… but you didn’t hear that from me.  It’s up to you what you want to do. You have time.”

Ah — how good it felt to have time on my side!

In many ways, it reminded me of a core truth I’d learned over and over: in the trading world, it’s the option sellers who have time on their side; it’s the option buyers who are always racing against the clock.  And most people in Thailand facing threats of overstay and the consequences were like the option buyers.

Well then, the plan seemed to be shaping up …

All I really needed to do was fly somewhere — get an exit stamp from Thailand, an entry stamp from Country X, an exit stamp from that country, and then an entry stamp back into Thailand.  That whole process could eat up just one passport page for another 60 days, compared to using up two pages just to get another 30 days through immigration directly.

The only real question now was: Which country to pick?

After running the possibilities back and forth through AI, it came down to a toss-up between Taiwan and the Philippines. Anywhere else would require a visa, which would burn at least another passport page — unless, of course, I wanted to go big and head back to Dubai.

That gave me some direction.  But soon enough, my friend Rob back in Koh Samui was asking about my immediate plans. And of course, I still had that Tern bicycle waiting for me there.  So I figured alright I'll fly back in a couple of days. 

And just like that, the biggest realization settled in: I could finally fly again.