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How desirable things can be when we don’t have them. And when they twist and curve into our view, and then our reach, they are perhaps not quite as desirable as we initially thought.

It’s like the old adage ‘be careful what you wish for… you may just get it’.

It often seems during a lack of faith, or a personal crisis, that everyone else has their shit together.

They do not.

No matter how glossy things may appear on the outside.

They carry with them their own swag of dilemmas, issues and consequences.

So, before you go wishing things were different, be careful what you wish for because things are rarely as they seem. Pay heed, and be thankful for what you do have – for that is often worth much more than you realise.

That’s what I decided after chatting at length to an Israeli man on the beach today. In the end he bought me a banana and invited me to watch Braveheart with him.

Fortunately, I declined his offer… for had I not, I would never have had the pleasure of meeting the German man with the porn moustache.

Genuinely interesting kind of guy, from what I could understand. I sent him in the direction of the Ladyboy Cabaret show. He needed a good night out, he said, or in…

Perhaps he made it to the party I can hear pounding off in the distance somewhere – all trance and treble. Seems I’m more partial to chillout and reggae tunes on decks bathed in soft light these days – and at times, my own company.

That was how last night started. It ended in the early hours with a game of pool that just refused to end and some local Thai guys pouring Sang Som rum freely, talking in well-practiced English accents. This morning my head woke me up banging on about drinking too much for dinner last night.

That, and the fact that a week has passed and I’ve done little more than bum around the beach, talk to strangers and gorge myself on mangosteens, rambutans and watermelon shakes. Guilty as charged.

And it’s nice. It’s really nice. But it feels all trodden on. And maybe that’s because I’ve been here before. I have already discovered it. And in rediscovering, things are never quite the same. Not bad – just different. So it dawned on me today as I lazed in the sea and watched the boats come, and go… that it’s time to find somewhere new, somewhere a little more raw, somewhere I can get lost that will sweep me up and spit me out… refreshed from discovery, inspired by nature and yearning for more.

So in that split second between decision and indecision, it clicked. Whatever it was I couldn’t get my head around in the days preceding, dissipated and I decided. As. Simple. As. That.

Moving on…

So tomorrow I will pack my things, and if the sun is shining I’ll jump to the next island: Koh Phangan. No full moon party this time. This time I’m looking for treasures hidden away from the masses. The places not yet of age, that I just know must be tucked away, laying low. Remote beaches, removed from shops (and short term tourists), accessible by long boat perhaps – promising me daily yoga, divine food and the occasional party until the early hours…

Paradise? Maybe…

Can it prepare me for India? I doubt it.

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