The Beach

As I became sleepy I started to fantasize. I imagined the train was a space ship and I was en route to some distant planet.
I don’t know if I’m alone in doing this kind of thing. It isn’t something I’ve ever talked about.

'If I give you a kiss, will that even things up?'
Etienne paused a bit longer, and finally nodded. 'I am

Not if you won't count Karachi.' He lit up. 'Got a favourite?'
I thought for a couple of moments. 'It's a toss-up between Indonesia and the Philippines.'
'And your worst?'
'Probably China. I had a lousy time in China. I went for five days without talking to one person except when I ordered food in restaurants. Terrible food too.'

Personally, I'm a rager. I fling my joypad across the floor, eyes clenched shut, head thrown back, a torrent of abuse pouring from my lips.

Often we could not understand him. I know he talked English because I would recognize some words, but… it was not easy.'
'It wasn't easy for me either. He was Scottish. Strong accent.'

I did keep a travel diary once, and it was a big mistake. All I remember of that trip is what I bothered to write down. Everything else slipped away, as though my mind felt jilted by my reliance on pen and paper.

I got my thousand-yard stare. I carry a lot of scars.
I like the way that sounds.
I carry a lot of scars.

'A lot. Way too much. You're a fucking lunatic.'
'A lunatic!' I laughed. 'Hold the front page.'

The only person talking sense was Sal, who was yelling at everyone to get back and shut up. No one took any notice though. Her role as leader had been temporarily suspended, so her good suggestions were about as useful as the bad ones.

I knew my affection for the Philippines was equally as telling: a democracy on paper, apparently well-ordered, regularly subverted by irrational chaos. A place where I'd felt instantly at home