~solvitur ambulando~

Saturday, 10th February 2001

The no room story ~

I thought it ended there, on the beach, with me writing it down. Yet it was only the beginning. Here is the next part of it, that starts in the very place and time the last entry ended, underneath the palm tree, with the guitar playing in the background.

After I wrote the story down, I closed my eyes, and almost drifted to sleep. The warmth of the afternoon, the whisper of water. So calming and comforting. When I opened my eyes again, and saw the waves, I knew what the next thing to do was: a walk along the water, to find me some sea shells. So I walked along the water, passing wooden huts, stone boulders, palm trees. Not many people, though. I had expected the beach to be more crowded, with all the bungalows taken, but it wasn't. There was so much space, between the huts, on the beach, it was amazing. One day I will come back, and then I will have a real bungalow, I thought.

Then I remembered what my friend had said. "If you don't find a good place to stay, then you spent one night in the room available, and change rooms the next day." Why not, I thought, and walked up to the next guesthouse, to ask. "Sorry, there already are two people waiting for a room," the owner told me. "You should have come yesterday, there had been rooms."

I nodded, and walked off, wishing he hadn't said the last sentence, wishing I had arrived yesterday. Suddenly angry, I walked to the next guesthouse, even though I already knew the answer I would get. Only that I didn't get an answer at all. I stood there, at the counter, waiting for someone to appear, yet no one came. In lack of another target, I addressed my anger to the next best person I came across.

"So you are one of those who have a bungalow," I said to a guy standing near the counter.
"Yes, why?" he answered, taking no offence at all.
"Because I am the one person who hasn't," I explained. t.
"But why don't you have a room?" he asked, surprised.
"It's all full."
He thought for a moment. Then he came up with a suggestion I hadn't even considered.
"You could sleep at the beach."
"Sleep at the beach?"
I wasn't sure if he was joking. But he sounded serious.
"It is safe here. Some people do it, did you see the tents?"
Now that he mentioned them, I remembered.
"I don't have a tent."
He thought again and looked around for someone from the guesthouse, but they all seemed to be busy in the kitchen.
"Did you have dinner already?" he asked.
I shook my head, feeling like a fool.
"I am sitting over there with some friends. If you want, come and join us. The sea food in this place is delicious."
Then he smiled. "I am Kevin, by the way."
"Dorothy," I answered.
"Like in the wizard of Oz?"
"Yes, only that I haven't been this far yet."
"It's not so far from here," he explained. I had to smile. For him, the world didn't seem to be made out of problems, but out of opportunities.

The idea to have dinner at the beach sounded good to me, and so we walked over, to his friends. Yet, when I saw that a whole group sitting there, at a table that was already loaded with plates, I felt like a guest arriving uninvited and too late.

"Don't worry, there's room enough at this table," Kevin said, and a minute later I found myself sitting there, a plate in front of me, joining an international meal - for everyone at the table happened to be from another country. There was Carole from Paris, Marc from Switzerland, Julie from Canada, Steve from Australia, and me, from Germany.

We talked about trekking in the Himalaya and working in Australia, about the stars of the Southern Hemisphere and about guesthouses in Bangkok, while a slow stream of dishes reached the table, one after another, green curry, chicken satay, spring rolls and noodle salad, while Reggae music was playing, Bob Marley's 'Iron Lion Zino' and Jimmy Cliff's 'The Harder they Come'. And of course, the reggae version of 'Knockin on Heaven's Door', my personal theme song of this day.

I tried to shift my concentration back to the food.
"This is the best," Marc explained to me, pointing at some fried pieces on a plate. "In the menu, it is the unnamed. They have it in three flavours."
"And what is it?" I wanted to know.
"You have to try it to know. That is why it's called the unnamed," he explained, and put one of the fried pieces on my plate.
I turned it, suspiciously. Then I took a small bite of it. The taste was delicious, but hard to define.
"What is it?" I asked again.
"It's only vegetables," Marc explained.
"Vegetables?" I wouldn't have guessed it.

By then, it was dark. A waiter came and lit candles, and asked if we would like something else. "How about tea and fried bananas for desert?" someone suggested. Not that any one was still hungry. It was rather the wish to prolong the meal, to make the evening last longer.
I leaned back, and gazed at the moon, the reason for all the turmoil of the day.
"And where do you stay?" Carol asked, as if she sensed my thoughts.
I pointed towards the road. "Down there, in a restaurant," I said. "No free room left at the beach. Full moon party."
"You could stay with me if you want," she offered without hesitation. "We could share my bungalow."
Her invitation took me by surprise.
"But you don't know me," I answered.
"We spent the evening together."
I didn't know what to say. Partly, because I never had been offered to share a room by someone I just met. But even more so, because I wouldn't had offered to share a bungalow if I had one. Having a room for myself, a place to retreat to, it meant a lot to me, especially after the summer I had spent working in a crowded office. And here Carol was, offering to sacrifice her privacy for me.
"You don't even know if I snore," I objected.
"I have earplugs," Carol said, smiling.
"Are you really sure?" I asked again.
"Sure," she said.
And so it was settled. We would meet at the beach the next day, and I would move into her bungalow.

It was only when I woke up the next morning that I realized we hadn't even arranged a time or place to meet. Or had it all been just a dream? Sitting up, I saw the shells I had brought from the beach. No, it had been real. Getting up, I saw Anika and Sebastian sitting downstairs already, having breakfast. I went down, and told them of the happenings of the evening.
"So you move to the beach and leave us here?" Anika said, half joking, half jealous.
"But we can meet there, and maybe you find a bungalow there, too," I said to comfort her.
After breakfast I packed my things, and walked down to the beach, telling my self that it would work out. That I would find Carol somehow.

And I did. Or rather: she found me. "There your are, and just in time" she said, jogging up the beach. "I have a diving lesson now," she explained, and handed me the key. "The bungalow is up there, make yourself comfortable."

And with this, she walked towards the diving school, as if it was the most usual thing to hand your keys to someone you just met an evening ago. Amazed by her trust, I walked up the stone steps, curious how the bungalow would look like.

It was gorgeous. Built at the side of the hill, you could see the whole beach from its balcony. And it was huge. Beautifully decorated with saris and shells. I put my backpack in a corner, and sat down on the balcony, touched again by her generosity.

An hour later, Carol was back from diving.
"It is so beautiful," I said to her. "Thanks again for letting me stay here."
"Oh but I told you to make yourself comfortable," she said when she saw my backpack sitting unopened in a corner. "We share this bungalow, you take your space. Just shift my things."
Again, I was floored. And again, Carol just smiled. "When someone is staying with you, it doesn't mean you have to stop living your life," she said, explaining in one sentence the secret of sharing time and place.

That was yesterday. And again I thought, the story ended there. And again, it was a walk on the beach that brought upon the next part. Isn't that what the old Romans said, too? Solvitur ambulando. It is solved by walking.

And this beach, it really is made for walking, with its long soft curve of sand, with its ever changing water views. I stood there, taking yet another picture, when I heard a call. Turning around, I saw Anika waving at me from the terrace of a bungalow.
"We have our bungalow now!" she said. "After breakfast with you, Sebastian decided to look for a bungalow. And saw someone packing while he was passing by. First the guesthouse owner didn't want to give the room to us, but as Sebastian staid there, and waited patiently, he finally gave in. And now we are here!"
"That is great!"
"Oh and if you want, the bungalow next to us will be free tomorrow!"
It all fell into place, it seemed. Excited, I went back, to tell Carol that the Danish couple found a bungalow for themselves - and one for me.
"Such a luck," she said, . Then she thought for a moment. "But don't think you have to move because of me. I would like it if you stay here.
From the balcony, I looked across the beach, trying to grasp my feelings, going and coming like waves.
"I think I would like that, too," I said, surprising Carol as much as myself.

In the afternoon, I went to see Anika again, to tell her of the latest turn of happenings.
"Isn't it amazing," I said. "All my life I had thought I need my own place to feel comfortable. Obviously I had to travel to the other side of the world to learn that I was wrong."
She smiled. "Isn't that why we travel," she said. "To go to places we have never been before, to find the lost parts of our selves."

And the more I think about it, the more I think she is right.

~~~~~~
Do

see the travel pictures: full moon
read the next diary entry: KoPhaNgan- want is the wrong word

latest entry
archive