We find ourselves on long beach, not California but Koh Lanta Thailand. Its a 1 hour ferry, 10 hours kayak or 6 day swim from Koh Pi Pi.
All along the quiet, expansive drift of white grain are sleepy, underpopulated bars made of drift wood. Many illuminate using candles at night.
Inviting straw-thatched huts with mats and brightly coloured axe cushions form slouchy platforms for groups of 2-4.
Serene Thai masseueses sit patiently or sleep on their stilted bamboo beach structures waiting for sunset. A sunset here is an immense poached egg affair, the warm yolky contents spilling out across the oceans rippled surface.
There are 2 paces on this island. Slow and slower. The only exception are the crabs which appear to be on speed. They scuttle far faster than any Thai train - and disappear down their little holes in the sand as you approach.
The sea is well behaved and quiet too. It yawns, pushing penil-thin lines of white bubbles on to the beach like the souffleed edges of an omelette. Water glides gently over powdery white sand - a whisper of a wave.
A light breeze is the only real reminder that time has not stood still entirely. Sometimes, even the breeze can't be bothered to get up. This induces even the locals to complain of the heat so they play Connect 4 in the shade for hours. (which is why they are all champions)
One evening we find a bar. There are no seats. Just coloured hammocks tied to drift wood posts which face no particular direction. In fact its a hillelty piggelty kind of a joint. Oceanic altars appear amongst the hammocks cotaining pretty pebbles, shells and oddments. The bar is ahead and a mystical pathway somehow leads us through the cacophony of wood, rope, candles and hammocks to the inner sanctum.
Here at the heart a glitter ball flashes over oil paintings of Bob Marley, The Buddha and various hippy junk dangling from every rafter. A peculiar shell-necklace-wearing Latino guy with a piano-like grin appears. He shook our hands and offered us a warm welcome.
We sat down and relaxed for an hour watching normally aggressive insects flying slow and subdued. Was there more than citronella in the smoky air?
This place makes Alison in Wonderland's adventures look like the evening news. You really don't need substances to experience a sense of the unusual. "Its mellow Jim, not as we know it."
Just how chilled is this place? Well we spotted the same people in hammocks that we saw the night before at 10am the next morning.
Unfortunately we were not among them. We had somehow managed to float back to our dwellings that night like the drifting fog.
