The Sand Bar
He told me
about the full moon,
about this place,
the place that I was
24 years ago.
He showed me pictures
Silence may have been the key
a sense of shame
10,000 dancers, dancing and raving
in a concrete jungle, born from seeds
we left behind
on the full moon
on the beach.
The journey was long
by bus, speed boat and long tail boat.
I remember the burn that lasted days
resting between my thighs and knees.
By my third visit I had learned to keep my self covered
on those last 30 minutes by reua hang yao,
through shallow waters
along coast line filled with coconut palms
and glistening white sand beaches
to Haad Rin Nok
We would haul our back packs,
jump into the blue
and run through deep sand
along the unbeaten track
to secure our place in paradise.
To Haad Rin Nai.
where buffalo travelled along tracks bringing provisions
and roamed freely with the pigs and chickens that pecked
beneath my coconut palm hut.
Where Orchids grew wild amidst the mangroves and coconut palms shaded trees of mango, rambutan, tamarind and pomello. And where, in the hard wood forest that stood tall, monkeys played, and king cobra and pythons slithered.
2 months, the first time.
6 weeks the second
4 the next, 6 the time after.
maybe 14 times in 4 and a half years.
It takes time to get accustomed to doing nothing.
It takes time to truly relax.
I would rise with the colours of the sun and roll from bed to silken sand and slip into the Andaman to cleanse the pheromonal sweat from my young and tender flesh and dance beneath the blanket of the lapping sea. This was my sanctuary, the place I found my soul, my body, its beauty, it’s strength, it’s sensuality.
In the beginning there were few to share this heaven
but those few, we grew to know
and each one grew to know themselves.
In the afternoons we played frisby on the beach
and in the evenings we walked to sunset beach
to smoke and watch the colours paint themselves upon sea and sky.
At weekends there was the jungle disco
Other nights a video in one of the 3 restaurants.
And after lights out at eleven
we would sit beneath the crowded sky and share stories.
The first beach party was ours,
boom box, fire and BBQ,
we made a tradition
under the full moon.
the tide turned
You see It was so beautiful
we had to tell people about it
and then they had to see for themselves
experience the pleasure
dance in the jungle disco
have the full moon party on the beach
and over my time,
more people came.
Goa’s ravers descended
first in small groups and then
The small boom box grew into an amp and speakers
and sprouted a DJ.
Magic tea turned to paper laced fun,
concrete began to grow
and tracks became paths, became roads
And as my idyll grew into the jungle and turned concrete.
I got lost within the crowds and the beat of its tracks.
I said farewell and could return no more.
Everything must change
it’s a consequence of life
but who says for better.