How a cancelled Full Moon Party changed my path
Chapter 3: From wild party plans to a moonlit ceremony, Thailand had other ideas for me.
Welcome to chapter 3 of Love at First Flight, my world travel love story.
In it, I reveal how a surprising moment during the 2011 eclipse showed me what I needed—and could have—if I wasn’t so afraid.
If you missed the first parts, you can read chapter 1 here and chapter 2 here.
The sea was a mess, and so were my party plans.
I had come all the way to Koh Phangan in Thailand for its legendary Full Moon Party, fully prepared for wild dancing, neon paint and buckets of booze.
But when the boats to Haad Rin were cancelled due to rough seas, the universe had clearly decided it was time for me to take a different direction.
Michael, a guy I’d met at the yoga resort, suggested we go to a lunar eclipse ceremony instead. Not exactly the wild night I’d planned, but it beat sulking in my jungle bungalow with only the geckos for company.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
Arriving at a ghost town
Desperate to escape London’s grey skies and endless emails, I’d booked a trip to the island of Koh Phangan. Work pressures and a broken heart had weighed me down for months and I was in serious need of a reset. Plus, my new love for travel—sparked on my first ever solo trip to Thailand—was calling.
But when I first arrived in Haad Rin, the so-called party capital of Koh Phangan, it was more ghost town than rave haven.
I’d arrived in early December—a little ahead of high season. Shops were empty, bars played music to no-one. I ate breakfast alone like the star of a really awkward indie film.
Luckily, I met Audrey, another solo traveller, who was heading to The Sanctuary. This yoga and wellness retreat was on a secluded bay only accessible by boat. After a quick chat and a shared sense of "What are we even doing here?" I decided to tag along.
Luxury vibes in the jungle
In my new flashpacking spirit, I booked myself a luxurious hillside bungalow at The Sanctuary (splashing out here was still half the price of a budget hotel in London).
Tucked high in the jungle, it perched on a winding path lit by tiny lanterns, leading from the beach up to the yoga hall.
My bungalow was built around a tree. A massive rock jutted through the bathroom floor, giving it a natural, eco-chic vibe. It had everything I could want—stylish décor, a king-size bed, hot shower, fresh towels and a hammock on the balcony, where I could pretend to meditate.
‘Hey, neighbour!’ a voice called out.
I turned towards the sound. A guy with long grey hair and an even longer grey beard waved at me from the balcony next door. He shouted that his name was Brian and we chatted for a while. In that moment, I knew I’d made the right choice coming here.
Now I had new friends from the jungle, too. My heart leapt out of my body when a bat flitted in and out of my room. The occasional gecko climbed the walls. A local cat mewed at the door and settled on my bed. Nature, it seemed, was my new roommate. It beat the uneasy solitude of Haad Rin.
Now it was time to try out meditation, properly. Luckily there was a guided class to help me.
The meditation class
I’d done the occasional yoga class in London, but wellness retreats were new territory for me.
Climbing the jungle pathway to the nearby yoga hall for the evening meditation class, I had visions of sitting cross-legged in perfect, peaceful zen. It started off well. The teacher invited us to lie down and focus on our breathing. Suddenly, with a snort, I woke to the sound of everyone quietly leaving the room. Apparently our hour was already up.
Mortified, I shuffled down the hill to the bar. As I waited for my drink, I introduced myself to the guy sitting next to me. His name was Michael and he’d just arrived from Bali, which sounded wonderful. He seemed to be a regular here, as several people passing by welcomed him back. I decided to open up and confess my meditation fail.
‘Don’t worry, it happens all the time,’ he assured me with a laugh.
After my first day here, I didn’t feel any more enlightened. But I was determined to try something else. At reception, I signed up for another class the next day, hoping it would be more successful.
The freestyle dance class
A handsome teacher, Sebastian, led the class. He explained that 5Rhythms is a moving meditation, devised in the 1970s by a dance teacher named Gabrielle Roth. ‘Move freely’, he said. ‘Connect with your soul through dance’. ‘Everything and everyone is energy.’ I was dubious but I’d give it a go.
Sebastian encouraged us all to dance freestyle in whichever waves and patterns felt natural, free from expectations and judgement. At first, this seemed ridiculous and I was self-conscious.
But after a while something clicked. I stopped caring about how I looked. Before I knew it, I was spinning, swaying, and laughing with strangers. For the first time in weeks, a small flame of joy lit inside me.
My Full Moon Party dreams dashed
Despite settling into the resort and getting the hang of its workshops, I still had my heart set on going to the Full Moon Party back at Haad Rin. That’s what I’d come for, after all.
On the evening in question, Audrey and I enquired excitedly with the taxi boat operators. But there were no boats in sight. The sea was too dangerous, they told us. Deflated, my plans of all-night dancing would have to wait.
When we turned to leave, we saw Michael. Sensing my mood, he offered an alternative:
"Why don’t you join us for the lunar eclipse ceremony tonight? It’ll be fun."
I didn’t even know a lunar eclipse was happening. It sounded like a weird New Age ceremony, with chanting and drum-banging.
But it was better than moping in my bungalow. And I’d have Audrey to laugh with if it got too weird. We agreed to check it out.
A cosmic message
Audrey and I joined a circle of people sitting in a wooden hut by the beach, cross-legged on cushions while the waves washed the sand outside.
The ceremony leader, Shashi, explained the eclipse’s significance:
‘They only happen once every couple of years. As the moon completes this cycle, it gives us an opportunity to release the things in our life that no longer serve us and welcome in something new.’
Shashi asked us to consider a conflict we were struggling with. My mind immediately turned to my work, which still overwhelmed my daily thoughts and worries. When people here would ask me about my job, I would close down the conversation as fast as I could. She then invited us to draw an oracle card - similar to tarot but with angels. She said we could interpret each card how we like.
I pulled The Traveller card, which felt like the universe’s way of saying, ‘Hey, remember your wild dream of travelling around the world? Yeah, about that...’
I read the wording on the card:
‘This card signals a journey, a new path, or a change in location. Do you know where you are going or where you want to go? It is time to make that decision.’
As I tried to laugh off the idea of a cosmic message, something about the card hit me. Audrey squeezed my hand, and suddenly, I realized I was crying.
This was a bit too on the nose for me. Sure, travelling the world sounded exhilarating, but impossible. Safer to focus on a new job, right?
The card must be saying I need to take a new path in my career. That would be a way to hit reset without completely unravelling my life.
Then it was time to leave the circle and watch the eclipse unfold.
The power of a lunar eclipse
After the ceremony, we gathered on the beach to look at the sky, as people patted rhythmic beats on drums around us.
The moon hung above the water, slowly dimming as Earth’s shadow crept across its surface. People danced barefoot in the sand while I watched the moon, once bright and full, disappear into darkness. I hoped my travelling dreams wouldn’t disappear too, even if I wasn’t ready yet.
Despite my reservations, I felt the power of all of us coming together in this rare moment and celebrating a natural wonder. I wanted to take home with me this feeling of calm empowerment and togetherness.
Maybe there was something in this weird New Age stuff after all.
Welcoming simplicity
The next morning, I woke with a fresh perspective. Reflecting on my dwindling finances, I downgraded from my luxury bungalow to something more humble.
My new basic beach hut had little more than a bed, an unheated outdoor shower and a squat toilet, but it felt right. Letting go of the luxury was strangely freeing, like I was shedding more than just the expensive comforts. After carrying the weight of my job, my worries and my doubts for so long, I could finally breathe. Simplicity, it turned out, was exactly what I needed.
That night, something else happened that I really needed.
The real party
Just when I thought my Koh Phangan adventure was winding down, Michael had one final suggestion: Guy’s Bar. I’d never heard of this place.
‘Get there at 4am for the best part,’ he said with a grin.
In true Koh Phangan fashion, I decided to give the party idea one last shot. And I brought Brian, my hippie former neighbour with me.
In the early hours of the morning, Brian and I wandered along a dark jungle path, the distant thump of deep house music guiding us. We arrived at a small, open-air club hidden behind the beach. Climbing the steps, we entered the club and saw people dancing, chatting and relaxing on cushions on wooden decks along the sides. In the centre was a DJ and a dance floor.
A yoga teacher I recognized from The Sanctuary was dancing on a small platform. A girl wearing a boob tube, maxi skirt and fringed bag was lost in the music, waving her arms in the air. Leaning against the wooden decking, a guy tapped a drum in time to the electronic beats. Brian and I bought drinks from the busy bar, merged with the crowd and danced under the stars.
As the sun rose, gently illuminating the dance floor and the jungle around us, I couldn’t help but smile. This was better than any drunken Full Moon rave. It was magical. I had found my party after all. A warm breeze brushed my skin as we danced in the new day.
This was the perfect ending to a trip that had served me curveballs from the beginning. Adventure, freedom and spontaneity — this was why I’d come to Thailand in the first place.
And now it was time to leave. How could I say goodbye?
The end of the beginning
The next morning, I said an emotional farewell to Audrey, Brian and Michael. I boarded the boat with my backpack, feeling happy and sad at the same time. I didn’t want to leave these people, this resort, this country... this version of me.
This time, I’d packed into my bag something new. But it wouldn’t tip the scales at the airport. I’d gained lightness, as the weight of my worries had finally lifted. Maybe I was still ignoring my dream of long-term travel, but the world wasn’t going anywhere. I’d revisit that dream at some point—preferably after a payrise. For now, I didn’t need a crazy Full Moon Party or a radical change to feel free. Sometimes, a little distance and a dance under the stars are all it takes to reset.
As the boat pulled away, I smiled, knowing I was leaving the island with joy in my heart and a deeper connection to myself. I’d changed in a tiny but momentous way. In the words of that well-known Thai saying, I was “same same but different.”
Meanwhile, my dream of travelling around the world lingered, like the moon—waiting patiently for me to let it shine.
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Read how I learned that travel isn’t the miracle answer to everything, in chapter 4 of Love at First Flight here.
Have you ever had travel plans go awry and ended up with something even better? Let me know in the comments—I’d love to hear your stories.
The Sanctuary was one of the first places I went on Koh Pha-ngan in 2010…and one of the main things that wanted to make me move there. After living on KP for 7 years and reading your story, I can say with confidence - the Universe was DEFINITELY taking care of you and put you exactly where you were meant to be 🥰
I loved reading this. I lived in Thailand for many years. I left almost 2 years ago, actually 23 months today! Long story, but a very sad one. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I randomly came across your article this morning. I have been thinking over the last few months of going back for a month or so over the winter. I think this is my answer! Also my childhood nickname was Shash or Shashi!