Just nipping to Paradise, see you in a bit

A couple of days ago I made a trip to Long beach just a couple of kms down the shore. It is around 15 km of pure white sand, big waves and literally no tourists. Like actually none. When our boat arrived there was NO ONE to be seen on the entire beach. Turns out this beach is off limits to tourists. It is a strict Muslim community and if tourists insist on arriving they have to then actually agree to leave. On the same day. Or else.

It was sweet.

I hear one of the reasons that no white-boy chai shops have emerged there is because whenever us foreigners arrive all the schools disfunction. Boys flock to see hot chicks in bikinis and girls flock to see scraggly, hirsute, phlegm pasties in baggy shorts hawking into the sand. It's very distracting apparently.

This did indeed happen to us. When we got there and looked up and down the beach, seeing nothing but sand, we looked towards the trees and could see many keen faces staring. By the time we left there were quite a lot of people there to wave us off. Rich white flesh is intriguing, apparently.

The next beach from Om Beach is where the hippies are. There is some serious dreadlocking going on. It is called Paradise Beach. I like the sound of the words, 'I'm just heading to Paradise, see you in a week'. But it's true. I found a room there for less than my current accommodation and I thought it would be interesting to spend some time there. There's many drums. I think they're ready for a guitar.

I do worry that I am about to hang out with a bunch of people with dreadlocks. Do remember the obscure mane of drooping dung ringlets that advertise themselves just above my mind, and you can imagine what these bedreaded acid-fried specimens of consciousness must be thinking. I for one suspect that I will be drugged or subjected to some kind of enforced meditation to render me helpless to a bout of irrepairable dreadlocking. I will hide friendly razors in my hair.

This place has hammocks. I might actually buy myself a hammock.

The atmosphere at Paradise Beach is lovely. There is a feeling of community. I saw some rather cute children hanging around. Everyone smiles and is very open. The only wonder is if it will become too claustrophobic having such a small space and an intensive living arrangement. But here's something I've learned on this trip: have no expectations.

Wow, that sounded kinda profound. I'm definitely getting into this finding yourself malarky. Ooh er.

So I am going to Paradise for a bit. There is no internet there. No shops. Food is possible. I've stocked up on books for my brain, batteries for my camera and soap for my cock. It's all good. So the trip takes a backseat while I pretend that I'm in that book/film 'The Beach'. Just young beautiful people hanging around an impossibly idyllic setting. Forgive me for getting lazy. This scenery is addictive.

So you may not hear from me for a while. Just thought I should reassure you that it is because I am not near internet connections and not that I have decided to rewire my brain with acid. The other day I was speaking to an Israeli girl (for a change) who was explaining how every time she takes acid she feels herself becoming a bit more crazy. She pointed to her head and made a tick sound. "Each time you take, you make a little scratch here. It's ok though, when you come out of it you just have to adjust to the world again. Figure out what's changed."

I pointed out that she was 21 and did she not maybe worry a bit about her brain if she thinks she's already crazy? I don't think she heard me.

There are some certifiably crazy people around here. One particular woman spent an entire evening trying to talk at me while I was clearly trying to entertain another disparate group of musically hungry strangers. She just kept talking, this woman. And when I felt like tuning into what she was saying it turned out I couldnÂ’t follow a single train of thought. Rather disconcerting. How does one deal with the crazy? I didn't want to be mean to her. I couldn't even figure out what was wrong with her. Attention Deficit? Too many drugs? Mild schizophrenia? Is there such a thing?

After a while I just kinda ignored her. I know it's not ideal but she went off and did some coke and when she came back she was desperately unintelligible but mixed with an aggressive confidence. It was unbearable. No one wanted to speak to this woman.

Needless to say my Swedish friend who looks like he should be in a boyband had a softcore threesome with her and that Israeli girl I just mentioned.

He must be very brave.

I'd like to know what a softcore threesome is too. Sounds relaxing.

So, thanks to Adam for leaving the funniest comment on my blog since someone copied out Clubbing News by Chris Morris (that was you too huh?). I seem to remember spitting chai through my nose involuntarily in a cafe in Pushkar because of that. Do keep them coming. The comments, not the innunendoes. Though I liked those too. And I'll continue to write this nonsense.