thoughts from a tiny island

On this tiny dive island in the Gulf of Thailand, motorbikes race up and down the streets of the main town. Other than that, there is no sign of hurry. Expats control the way and their eyes watch with detachment the silly antics of the newly arrived tourists. They are lucky, some might remember, that even though they are tourists, they are mostly here to dive. Diving tourists are more sensitive to the reefs both under water and those on land. Unlike many locations not far from here, there are no busloads of frantics anxious to rush by art and edifice, pausing only to snap a photo or buy a trinket. They are lucky, but that does not minimize their slightly superior pose. It exists everywhere, I suppose; dominant coffee house buzzards in Greenwich Village, self-righteous non-smokers on the patios of La Jolla, style commanders draining perfect martinis in the air conditioned safety of South Beach. And here, amidst simple bungalows dotting palm covered cliffs, it is hard to take it too far or too seriously. It is beautiful and easy and friendly. It’s sad to think that in ten years it may be prostituted to Burger Kink and Starbucks. The Hyatt’s will bring their exclusivity and profit margins will be analyzed against other resorts and quality control will be enforced by policies dreamt up in an industrial park in Horsham, Pennsylvania.
I am too new to say how the Thai’s fit in here. Perhaps it is only to provide an example of how to smile and let it all happen, no matter what it is. It would take a few months, maybe a year, maybe a lifetime to peel back the layers to see how the pieces connect. There is no purpose in that, though. Better to come, enjoy, take a little, give a little, and hope someone in my footsteps may take an afternoon to listen to the breeze or watch the ballet of butterflies in a slightly imperfect garden while waiting for the rain to cool off this dot of sand.