I'm am noticing and now anticipating the patterns of the day. Daily events are replacing clock time altogether. The absence of any need for clocks has resulted in phrases like "swim o' clock" and "pad thai thirty".
Every morning the water is calm, but every day there is something different about the beachfront. Today there were lots of what looked like ashes washed up. Yesterday it was random objects covered in barnacles: a beer bottle, a flip flop, a lighter, a light bulb. The day before was lots of seaweed, while on my first day there were tiny bright blue jelly fish - about the size of a penny. What will it be tomorrow?
Later in the day, we get our single shipment of newcomers. Backpackers fresh off the daily boat from Ko Samui - usually one or two sets of folks - lumber up the beach looking like lurching sea turtles, carrying their homes on their backs. The smart ones pass every other option on the beach and find us on The Rocks. Each day when they arrive, it's kind of like opening a nativity calendar to see who our new friends are going to be today.
The regulars take their showers like clockwork, some in the morning, some before sunset.
As the sun gets just behind the trees (the real sunset is on the other side of the island - we're a sunrise beach), the daily frisbee toss starts - Usually Sam's doing. In such a humid place, even this breaks a huge sweat.
Then, at precisely the same time each day, the jungle revs up and lets out a siren, a symphony of bugs, reptiles, and who knows what else. It is the signal that the evening has begun. The opus lasts about five minutes, then is quiet. As part of the collective song, the gecko that lives next door sounds off like a jack-in-the-box, revving up with exactly three sets of "Gh-Gh-Gh-Gh-Gh-Gh" like turning the key in the ignition, followed by five hoots of "Gek! Go, Gek! Go.." (Oh so that's where their name comes from!)
I have taken to hiding out in my hammock at this time of day slathered in bug spray. The mosquitoes are out in force for about 30 minutes. A good time for reading. The picture is the view from the hammock during the day.
Now the guesthouse staff sets up for their nightly barbecue. They set out tables and torches, and turn on all the twinkly lights in the trees. Lay out all the fresh fish and meat to await what is hopefully a good crowd for the night.
A little later the thump of pleasant lounge music starts to signal folks to join up at the bar.
Then comes the hard part. Deciding which delicious restaurant to eat at.
The party choice is made for you, as each night of the week sees a regular party at a particular bar in town.
Drink, smoke, laugh, sleep.
Every morning the water is calm, but every day there is something different about the beachfront. Today there were lots of what looked like ashes washed up. Yesterday it was random objects covered in barnacles: a beer bottle, a flip flop, a lighter, a light bulb. The day before was lots of seaweed, while on my first day there were tiny bright blue jelly fish - about the size of a penny. What will it be tomorrow?
Later in the day, we get our single shipment of newcomers. Backpackers fresh off the daily boat from Ko Samui - usually one or two sets of folks - lumber up the beach looking like lurching sea turtles, carrying their homes on their backs. The smart ones pass every other option on the beach and find us on The Rocks. Each day when they arrive, it's kind of like opening a nativity calendar to see who our new friends are going to be today.
The regulars take their showers like clockwork, some in the morning, some before sunset.
As the sun gets just behind the trees (the real sunset is on the other side of the island - we're a sunrise beach), the daily frisbee toss starts - Usually Sam's doing. In such a humid place, even this breaks a huge sweat.
Then, at precisely the same time each day, the jungle revs up and lets out a siren, a symphony of bugs, reptiles, and who knows what else. It is the signal that the evening has begun. The opus lasts about five minutes, then is quiet. As part of the collective song, the gecko that lives next door sounds off like a jack-in-the-box, revving up with exactly three sets of "Gh-Gh-Gh-Gh-Gh-Gh" like turning the key in the ignition, followed by five hoots of "Gek! Go, Gek! Go.." (Oh so that's where their name comes from!)
I have taken to hiding out in my hammock at this time of day slathered in bug spray. The mosquitoes are out in force for about 30 minutes. A good time for reading. The picture is the view from the hammock during the day.
Now the guesthouse staff sets up for their nightly barbecue. They set out tables and torches, and turn on all the twinkly lights in the trees. Lay out all the fresh fish and meat to await what is hopefully a good crowd for the night.
A little later the thump of pleasant lounge music starts to signal folks to join up at the bar.
Then comes the hard part. Deciding which delicious restaurant to eat at.
The party choice is made for you, as each night of the week sees a regular party at a particular bar in town.
Drink, smoke, laugh, sleep.
I think this routine has been mastered. I'll soon begin researching my next stop.
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