On our previous walk around the island we noticed a conspicuous lack of people just two minutes farther north from the busy bars of the beach near Mowie’s, Lucky’s and our hostel. We also noticed a lovely crop of mangroves, with their beguiling tangle of branches and roots just begging to be strung up with hammocks.
So today, our last day here on the south side of the island, we pack up one of our Flying Squirrel hammocks, lather on the sunscreen, charge up the portable speaker and hit the sandy trail. The tide is on it’s way in, but not so far in that the waves are reaching shore – they are still breaking on the coral reef 100 meters out. So it’s quiet, and perfectly sunny and blue-skied, and we string up our hammock in the exact spot that we sighted on the first day.
Marc plays the “Classics” playlist that we picked up from a friend-of-a-friend on Koh Lanta, and we take turns swinging in the hammock or
peeing playing in the Ocean. This is why I don’t want to go home. Who wants to have expectations and dress codes and stress, when the alternative is (for now) laying around in the hammock for as long as you want, letting the mangrove shade grow in front of you and the tide come up to meet it?