One turbulant flight and two days after our trek, we were soaking up the sun on a semi-secluded Phuket beach. It was actually quite a bit more developed than we had hoped, but not nearly to the extent that many of Phuket's more popular strips of sand have been exploited. At least here, we didn't have to see any fat, fifty year old slobs parading young local girls around as if they had anything more than money keeping them together. We tucked into a quiet, palm-shaded corner of the beach and watched the waves come crashing in.
The weather was absolutely perfect, if hot, and before long the water looked far too tempting not to take a dip. Mia remained on shore, unraveling The Da Vinci Code (in Korean), while I took to the tropical sea. Up to this point, I could count the number of times I'd swam in the ocean on one hand, so I didn't think much of the fact that everyone else was swimming a hundred or so meters down the beach. Turns out, there was a very good reason for that. Rocks. More specificaly, razor sharp rocks. After I got up to my shoulders in water, the force of the waves pushed me into a series of rocks, which I instinctively tried to brace myself against with my hands. Before long, my palms were sliced up pretty bad, so I made my way back to the beach, hands streaming seasalty blood.
Bandaged up yet unable to swim any more, I decided to explore the coast, take a walk along the rocks and see what I could see. I rounded the small cape that bordered our beach, stepping carefully from stone to stone, and soon left civilization behind. Before long, I came upon a boy fishing by himself. I asked him if he'd caught anything. “Yeah, a fish, but I let it go.” “Just fishing for fun, then?” I inquired. “No. I'm fishing for mermaids.” He said, completely serious. “Oh really?” I said, suddenly intrigued. “Yep, I caught one once, a long time ago,” he said, casting his line out. “What did she look like?” I asked. “She had purple hair, she was pretty.” “I'll bet.” “And, she gave me this,” he said, setting his rod down and pulling a seashell necklace from his pocket. “That's a nice necklace. Where do you think the mermaid got the string to make it?” “It's fishing line. Someone probably threw it into the ocean and she found it. People throw a lot of things into the sea.” I couldn't argue with that logic. I wished him good luck and turned back to my beach, leaving him to fish for his mermaid.
Mia & I ate some BBQ chicken so good that I seriously considered ordering seconds from one of the seaside restaurants that jutted out onto the beach itself. Afterwards, we got a couple of beach chairs on the sand, sipped cocktails, listened to music, and read our respective books while the water frothed up to meet us. The singular perfection of this moment was not lost on me. I remember looking up from the pages of my book at the setting sun, or at the pretty girl sitting next to me and thinking: 'Well, it doesn't get much better than this. Remember this place, this time. You'll need it.' Then wishing I could stretch the moment out indefinately, somehow live inside that feeling forever. But the waves kept coming in, my glass became empty, and the sun eventually set.
Later that night, back in Phuket Town, Mia & I booked a cruise to nearby Krabi. The tour agent, a man in his early 30's, seemed to take great pleasure in accentuating the word “Krabi” rolling the “r” like a purring tiger, and emphasizing the “BEE” with a satisfying punch. “Soyouwannaboatto KrrraBI?” “Youeverbeento KrrraBI before?” “Krabi is nice, you will like Krabi.” If we liked Krabi even half as much as this guy enjoyed saying it, we were in for a treat.
