My world, it spins.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Paradise

At some lesser-visited corner of the earth, a convergence of land and sea has created a natural wonder of true magnificence. Quite simply put: it's a beach.

A winding, narrow road through a jungle of the densest and most tropical nature finds its end amidst a handful of bamboo huts; their proprietors selling samosas and coconuts, straws protruding. Your rickshaw having come to rest, you're instantly allured beyond by the soft roar of the breaking waves just a stone's throw from where you stand. Into the clearing, the beach reveals itself stretching in a wide arc to left and to the right. In either direction, it extends much further than you'd really care to walk.

You step on to the sand. It delicately caresses your feet and beckons you to take another step. So soft, it could very well have been the earthly inspiration for velvet. The beach slopes gently downward as you take twenty paces to the edge of the pristine waters leaving a solitary trail of inverted bare feet in your wake. The pillow-like saturated sand continues uninterrupted out to a depth much taller than you. Only after two minutes' swim do you notice the sandy bottom has morphed into a lush and lively coral forest teeming with fish most colourful in all their tropical charm.

Pushed back ashore by the gentle surf, the hot sun helps to quickly dry you of the (relatively) cool sea water. Intolerant of a sunny afternoon at the equator, you string up your hammock from a low-hanging branch of an ancient and truly curious-looking tree to bask in its generous shade. There on the threshold of beach and jungle you swing with the refreshing sea breeze, your palette cleansed by a periodic sip from your coconut.

An elephant's bellow cuts through the ever-present choir of birds from somewhere deep in the woods. Having bathed the entire island in two lifetimes' worth of vitamin D, the sun begins its slow slide into the horizon. Five kilometers of beach are now 'crowded' by some fifty people, here to bid the sun goodnight and watch the sky's rosy dusk glow blacken and fill to its brim with stars. The impossibly dark jungle tells all through an unthinkably loud chorus of crickets and other creatures nocturnal.

You make your way back along the beach, minding the risen tide. With each carefully timed crashing wave, the beach subtly whispers, "I'm absolutely perfect; thanks for visiting."

Perfect. But for one problem:

You're not actually here. :)