The ocean finally came to an end as our ferry packed with twenty somethings spotted wild green mountains sprouting out of the ocean ahead. We had reached our final destination-Koh Phangan.

We were all here for the same purpose, to attend the Full Moon Party: a monthly affair that brings travelers of all ages to the island for a 12 hour party full of fire, neon paint, and house music on the beach.

We formed a single line out of the ferry station to grab a cab, discovering that cabs on Koh Phangan were actually low rider pick up trucks equipped with metal bars along the side. These bars would keep us from flying out of the back during the wild ride throughout the hills of the island. Despite the language barrier, we were able to convey that we were staying at @beach and bar, which is now called Dancing Elephant Beach Bar, a youth hostel located right on the water. At this point I would also like to add that we were staying in a 16 bed mixed dorm.

After getting to the hostel and ordering almost everything on the menu (probably totaling 3 dollars), we sat and talked about how we should have a “chill” night and really just “relax” since the Full Moon Party is the next day and we need to recharge our batteries.

Well, that lasted all of two minutes before we found out that everyone planned to attend the Jungle Party, another all night party with paint, fire, and house music-but in the jungle. We quickly changed our minds and ordered a few Changs at the bar before heading out.

Arriving at the Jungle Party, we noticed the main stage was some sort of lit up leopard head containing the DJ. We drank down the first of many “buckets” we would engulf on this island. Buckets, a death sentence comprised of vodka, red bull and some other mystery liquids. We danced for hours among trees, dirt, and hundreds of other people.

As the night ended, we made a bright decision to get a ride home on a friend’s (by friend’s I mean stranger’s) motorbike. As we drove over the hills of Phangan, drunk and through the darkness, we realized we actually had no idea where our hostel was. This went on for a few hours, until we finally pulled ourselves together and got to the bottom of this mystery…while sitting with a sprawled out map in a gas station parking lot.

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I was surprisingly not that hungover the next day for the amount of poison I digested the night before. This was the day we’ve been waiting for – Full Moon. We spent the day nursing our hangovers with a mix of pad thai, double bacon cheeseburgers and beautiful warm ocean water. We briefly thought about renting motorbikes, until I almost killed a dog and a child during my first 5 seconds trying to steer.

At night our hostel became a giant painting party, all of us helping each other paint hard to reach areas. In the end, the floor would be covered with glitter and neon, even when everyone vacated a couple days after.

Before we knew it, we were off to Haad Rin with the rest of the island. We piled into the street entrance of the beach either to pay or not pay. Our first steps onto the beach led us to a firey sign, crowded stages boucing up and down by the movement of dancing bodies and people that I could guarantee weren’t going to make it until sunrise.

We flew down the slide into a crowd of neon partygoers and tried to dodge the hot oil flying off of the flaming jumprope. I could have spent hours watching people attempt to jump over the flame, each time eventually being defeated and burned. It’s funny how determined people are when they are drunk.

I vaguely remember buying a few buckets throughout the night, dancing for hours in the sand, and taking in the whole scene from the high rocks beside the beach. From the Aussie I met in the Ocean who told me she wanted to visit New Orleans, to the guy that invited me to his place in Rio for Carnival, I made endless friends that night.

A flaming limbo game began sometime around sunrise. As we sat on the beach and watched the sun begin to lift itself out of the ocean, we looked around and admired everyone who had made it all night-all glassy eyed and covered in chipped paint. The house music began to taper off, creating a surreal moment for those of us still awake.

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I woke up sometime around 2pm and spent the day laying around on the beach and whining about how I never wanted to leave. We decided to find Treehouse bar, but with the communication barrier prooving to be too much, wound up at Amsterdam Bar instead, which I couldn’t be more happy about.

Amsterdam bar might be one of my favorite places in the world. High atop a mountain sits a wooden bar adorned with colorful rugs and pillows, one elaborate menu, and marajuana. Marajuana is illegal in Thailand, but for some reason it is acceptable here. Amsterdam bar gives one of the best views of the sunset on the island. I could have sat here for hours speaking to friends and strangers, all convinced we were without a doubt moving to Koh Phangan.

How could we live here? How much money would we have to save? Would we work on the island? It didn’t matter, because we were in love.

Not in love with a person, but in love with a place. In love with the people we met in three short days. In love with riding viciously through the luscious hills and mountains. In love with drifting carefree through the ocean. In love with sharing the most beautiful sunset with strangers that we now knew so well. Mostly in love with the way we felt here. Mostly in love with Koh Phangan.