resort?'
'A place to come for vacations.'
I frowned harder. By the look in Sal's eyes I could see she found my expression amusing.
'Holidays?' I tried to say, but the word caught in my throat. It seemed so belittling. I had ambiguous feelings about the differences between tourists and travellers - the problem being that the more I travelled, the smaller the differences became. But the one difference I could still latch on to was that tourists went on holidays while travellers did something else. They travelled .
'What did you think this place was?' Sal asked.
'I don't know. I didn't think anything really.' I exhaled slowly. 'But I certainly didn't think of a beach resort.'
She waved a chubby hand in the air. 'OK. I'm kind of teasing you, Richard. Of course this is more than a beach resort. But at the same time, it is just a beach resort. We come here to relax by a beautiful beach, but it isn't a beach resort because we 're trying to get away from beach resorts. Or we 're trying to make a place that won't turn into a beach resort. See?'
'No.'
Sal shrugged. 'You will see, Richard. It's not so complicated.'
Actually, I did see what she meant but I didn't want to admit it. I wanted her to describe Zeph's island commune of free spirits. A holiday resort seemed like a poor reward for the difficulties we'd had to overcome, and a rush of bitterness ran through me as I remembered the swim and the terror of hiding on the plateau.
'Don't look so disappointed, Richard.'
'No, I'm not... I'm...'
Sal reached over and squeezed my hand. 'After a little while you'll see that this is a wonderful place, as long as you appreciate it for what it is.'
I nodded. 'I'm sorry, Sal. I didn't mean to look disappointed. I'm not disappointed. I mean, this longhouse and the trees outside... It's all amazing.' I laughed. 'It's silly really. I think I was expecting an... an ideology or something. A purpose.'
I paused while I finished the cigarette. Sal made no movement to leave. 'How about the gunmen in the dope fields?' I asked, conscientiously tucking the dead butt back into the packet. 'Are they anything to do with you?'
Sal shook her head.
'They're drug lords?'
'I think 'drug lords' is a bit dramatic. I have a feeling the fields are owned by ex-fishermen from Ko Samui, but I could be wrong. They turned up a couple of years ago and pretty much took over that half of the island. We can't go there now.'
'How do they get around the marine-park authorities?'
'Same as us. Keep quiet. And half of the wardens are probably in on it, so they make sure the tourist boats don't come near.'
'But they know you're here.'
'Of course, but there isn't much they can do. It'snot like they can report us. If we got raided then they'd get raided too.'
'So there's no trouble between you?'
Sal's hand flicked to the sea-shell necklace around her neck. 'They stick to their half. We stick to ours,' she said briskly, then suddenly stood up, patting the dust from her skirt with pointless attention. 'Enough talk, Richard. I really do have to go now, and you're still running a fever. You need some rest.'
I didn't bother protesting and Sal began walking away, her T-shirt catching the candlelight a little longer than her skin and skirt.
'One more question,' I called after her, and she looked round. 'The man in Bangkok. You knew him?'
'Yes,' she said quietly, then she began walking again.
'Who was he?'
'He was a friend.'
'He lived here?'
'He was a friend,' she repeated.
'But... OK, just one more question.'
Sal didn't stop, and now only her saffron T-shirt was visible, bobbing in the darkness.
'One more!'
'What?' her voice floated back. 'Where's the toilet?'
'Outside, second hut along by the edge of the camp.' The bright sliver of light through the longhouse door slid back to blackness.
Exploring
The toilet, a small bamboo hut on the edge of the clearing, was a good example of how well the camp had been organized. Inside the hut was a low bench with a football-sized hole, through which I
'A place to come for vacations.'
I frowned harder. By the look in Sal's eyes I could see she found my expression amusing.
'Holidays?' I tried to say, but the word caught in my throat. It seemed so belittling. I had ambiguous feelings about the differences between tourists and travellers - the problem being that the more I travelled, the smaller the differences became. But the one difference I could still latch on to was that tourists went on holidays while travellers did something else. They travelled .
'What did you think this place was?' Sal asked.
'I don't know. I didn't think anything really.' I exhaled slowly. 'But I certainly didn't think of a beach resort.'
She waved a chubby hand in the air. 'OK. I'm kind of teasing you, Richard. Of course this is more than a beach resort. But at the same time, it is just a beach resort. We come here to relax by a beautiful beach, but it isn't a beach resort because we 're trying to get away from beach resorts. Or we 're trying to make a place that won't turn into a beach resort. See?'
'No.'
Sal shrugged. 'You will see, Richard. It's not so complicated.'
Actually, I did see what she meant but I didn't want to admit it. I wanted her to describe Zeph's island commune of free spirits. A holiday resort seemed like a poor reward for the difficulties we'd had to overcome, and a rush of bitterness ran through me as I remembered the swim and the terror of hiding on the plateau.
'Don't look so disappointed, Richard.'
'No, I'm not... I'm...'
Sal reached over and squeezed my hand. 'After a little while you'll see that this is a wonderful place, as long as you appreciate it for what it is.'
I nodded. 'I'm sorry, Sal. I didn't mean to look disappointed. I'm not disappointed. I mean, this longhouse and the trees outside... It's all amazing.' I laughed. 'It's silly really. I think I was expecting an... an ideology or something. A purpose.'
I paused while I finished the cigarette. Sal made no movement to leave. 'How about the gunmen in the dope fields?' I asked, conscientiously tucking the dead butt back into the packet. 'Are they anything to do with you?'
Sal shook her head.
'They're drug lords?'
'I think 'drug lords' is a bit dramatic. I have a feeling the fields are owned by ex-fishermen from Ko Samui, but I could be wrong. They turned up a couple of years ago and pretty much took over that half of the island. We can't go there now.'
'How do they get around the marine-park authorities?'
'Same as us. Keep quiet. And half of the wardens are probably in on it, so they make sure the tourist boats don't come near.'
'But they know you're here.'
'Of course, but there isn't much they can do. It'snot like they can report us. If we got raided then they'd get raided too.'
'So there's no trouble between you?'
Sal's hand flicked to the sea-shell necklace around her neck. 'They stick to their half. We stick to ours,' she said briskly, then suddenly stood up, patting the dust from her skirt with pointless attention. 'Enough talk, Richard. I really do have to go now, and you're still running a fever. You need some rest.'
I didn't bother protesting and Sal began walking away, her T-shirt catching the candlelight a little longer than her skin and skirt.
'One more question,' I called after her, and she looked round. 'The man in Bangkok. You knew him?'
'Yes,' she said quietly, then she began walking again.
'Who was he?'
'He was a friend.'
'He lived here?'
'He was a friend,' she repeated.
'But... OK, just one more question.'
Sal didn't stop, and now only her saffron T-shirt was visible, bobbing in the darkness.
'One more!'
'What?' her voice floated back. 'Where's the toilet?'
'Outside, second hut along by the edge of the camp.' The bright sliver of light through the longhouse door slid back to blackness.
Exploring
The toilet, a small bamboo hut on the edge of the clearing, was a good example of how well the camp had been organized. Inside the hut was a low bench with a football-sized hole, through which I
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