In 1990 I got on the Bangkok train and caught a midnight cargo barge from Surathani to Koh Samui. The rising moon reflected a shining path to the warm horizon and dolphins sang a swimming song in our wake. At dawn the ferry docked on the palm-covered island. I rented a motorcycle and rode through coastal coconut plantations to a coral beach south of Chaweng. My simple bungalow was sheltered by the shade trees. There was no electricity during the day and a slight sea breeze wafted across the shore at sunset. The beer was cold. Food was a delight. We swam in the sea by moonlight and washed off the salt with buckets of monsoon rain. Sleep was to the music of gentle waves caressing the sand.
Photo of the W resort on Koh Samui.
Thirty-five years ago there was no need for a fucking swimming pool. The sea was as cleasr as gin, but things change, except in our memories.
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