Truce in Paradise

It rains, but things could be worse as I slowly make my way into the Andaman Sea. Lush green of hills overgrown with rain forest enclose our cozy little bay. I look back towards the beach, see vendors selling fruit shakes, massages, cocktails. It’s hard to tell if the rain has stopped, or if the warm air simply absorbs it before it can ripple the surface of the sea. Back home it is snowing: I reckon things could be worse.

Photo by Maksim Zhashkevych on Unsplash

Yesterday at the beach bar, the menu translated into multiple languages for everyone’s convenience:

Gaeng Gai
Curry with Chicken
Curry mit Hähnchen
Карри с курицей

Here in paradise, we are not so different. Content to stay in our cozy bubble, making no effort to learn the language or customs of the people who serve us. Don’t misunderstand me: we will come back, and, eating at our local Thai restaurant, we’ll proudly explain the dishes to our friends. We will say ‘kop khun ka’ (or some vaguely familiar approximation). After all, we traveled halfway around the globe, and we came back wiser in the ways of the world.

I hear voices drifting over the water. Russian. Here in paradise, we are not so different. Not here to argue, not here to fight. We have too much in common: cold and dark winters much rather spent with a cocktail on the beach, wealth…