Good Journal Name

Ting Rai Bay is a stretch of sand on Koh Jum/Koh Phu. The island is Koh Phu if you're at the mountainous end of it, or Koh Jum if you're at the flatter end of it. This creates a little confusion amongst people who haven't been there. The island, as with many places in Thailand, also suffers from variable spelling in Roman script. So if I wanted to, I could also be staying on Ko Cham, Ko Pu... in fact by staying on this one island I could in fact say that I've visited about six islands. This pleases me.

Not so many people know about this island. I would mention it to Thai people and they would go "huh?". This also pleases me. It's on the ferry route between Krabi and Koh Lanta. You certainly don't get any "huh?" when you talk about Koh Lanta. It's also very close to Koh Phi Phi, which is actually two islands -- Phi Phi Don and Phi Phi Leh. Naturally these islands also have multiple spellings. All this confusion about island names and number leads me to believe that the simple fact of finding anywhere to spread your towel is an incredible feat in itself, and should be rewarded with a nice cold Singha.

This place puts all sorts of thoughts of spirituality into my head, but not like you'd expect. I'm not going to crow on about its simple but divine pleasures -- waves on the beach, gentle cooling breezes, charming lack of overt tourist development, benign buglife... I'm not going to say that my soul's connection to the earth is strengthened in such a place of natural beauty.

You should know me better than that.

I will say that this is as close to paradise as I've ever found. Certainly as close to paradise as it comes within my price range. It makes me think about what the real heaven (should you choose to believe in one) is like, and whether this is an appropriate facsimile here on earth.

Seriously. It doesn't get much easier than this. I arrived on the island and I was escorted to my "resort". I was given a glass of orange juice. I bet there's orange juice in heaven. I was escorted to my perfect little bungalow by a man named Mango. I love mangoes... of course heaven is full of mangoes. My bungalow has a gorgeous balcony, a four-poster bed with extremely romantic mosquito netting draping it. I have my own bathroom with something of a jungle outlook. I have fresh towels. I have complimentary toiletries.

When I want food, I just sit in the restaurant and ask for food. The food comes. It is good food. When I want to sit on the beach I have the choice of lovely soft sand, beach loungy chair, hammock, or chill-out cabana thing. When I want to swim I wade out into the water. I don't need to fight hordes of other scantily clad farang for a little lounging/wading room, because at any point there might be five people on the beach. The only other beach residents are the little translucent crabs that I watch digging little holes or scuttling sideways across the sand as I walk past.

At night the generator comes on and the whole place is lit up with little lights. It's like a fairy village. I reckon heaven comes adorned with fairy lights.

But what this really makes me think about is what it must be like to be one of these souls residing in this hypothetical heavenly plane, which may or may not offer a similar degree of relaxation as the Ting Rai Bay Resort, and whether they're as dumbfoundedly bored as I am.

Yes, I'm still bored. Hate me if you want, but let me get my philosophy on.

Assuming that boredom is a susceptibility not solely confined to the earthly realm, you would think that this makes a very strong case for reincarnation. For a soul prone to boredom in times of ease, what could be closer to hell than an extended stay in heaven?

Taking this analogy even further into blasphemy territory, let me draw comparisons between the guests of this establishment and the residents of heaven.

There are those, I am sure, who are just happy to be here. Like you people reading this who will undoubtedly be thinking me the most ungrateful sod ever to trod the sand, there are those who consider there to be nothing better than just lounging around in heaven. People who have been good for a long time, worked hard, travelled far, been through all sorts of troubles just to get here. People who are just happy to strut around the beach in tiny attire, growing ever more brown and generally just being happy to have arrived.

There are others, like me, who arrive here because everyone said it's a good place and they thought it would be worth checking out.

These people who are just "checking it out" rock into heaven, sample its delights for a while and then invariably start suffering the boredom. They do like I did, and start walking down the road looking for something else, only to be gently turned back by the heat and the endlessness of the road. What? Heaven no good for you?

They pace. They write in their heavenly journals. They immerse themselves in heavenly books about distinctly unheavenly subjects or war, death and discomfort. Then they go "fuck this shit" and jump on the next longtail boat out of there in order to learn more, see more, do more in some other life.

That's my stellar conclusion anyway, brought to you by the sun, sand, gentle lapping waves, friendly regard of fruitily-named staff and general heavenly aspect of the Ting Rai Bay Resort.

One big difference between here and heaven -- Here everyone is half of a couple. I'd put money on the fact that heaven is one big raging singles scene.

Now I'm going to see if I can climb a mountain.