I sat on the beach and read a book, and it was glorious.

I've been waiting for that for a long time, and it was everything I hoped it was. The beach was sandy white. The water was aqua-marine blue and brilliant. The cliffs in the distance were verdant with palms and other trees perched atop steep cliffs that blazed in the sun. White, puffy clouds drifted across the endless sky, and I sat below the slightly moldy umbrella and read. There were a lot of other people around, and every now and then a motorboat would zoom by with someone attached to a rope with a parachute above them. Now and then Lu would pipe up with facts and information about the island of Ko Phi Phi we lounged on, or tell me about the places we intended to see in the coming days. Krabi, Ko Phanang, Vientienne, Ko Samui. The shape of the words fumbled through my mouth as I tried to picture geography they were attached to. And then I went back to reading.

When the sun was still low in the east we found our seats. I opened the cover of the novel Amsterdam by Ian Mcewan. I read the praise. I read the dedication. I read the copyright date and the title page and then I began the story. The sun crept upward, our shadows shortened. We bought beers from the bar and brought them back to our spot. Noon slipped by as we sipped and the tide peaked, crashing lightly before us before beginning its slow slide out as the afternoon drifted on. And still I read. Lu went off for a massage after lunch. The tide pulled back hundreds of feet revealing coral and rocks and critters and crabs. It was our first day on the beach and I sat there through all of it, throughly engrossed in the novel, and thoroughtly entranced by the rhythms of the world around me. Just as the sun finally found respite behind the majestic cliffs before me I found the few remaing pages beneath my right hand. The story ended. The sun lit the sky crimson, pink and purple. The bays' beautiful waters were as far away from the beach as they would go, and I sighed in utter contentment as I closed the novel's covers, took a final sip of beer and went searching through the touristy warrens for my now-long-missing wife.

We found each other a little while later with the help of walkie-talkies, but the awesomeness of Ko Phi Phi was transforming as night fell. This wasn't the secluded retreat we were looking for. Bars pumped techo as all the weekend tourists appeared dressed to club, dressed for The Scene. We didn't want A Scene. We wanted scenery and silence. After an over-priced dinner we found tour shop and asked about quietness. They recommended Relax Beach Resort on the other side of the island. It sounded perfect so we booked a boat for the following morning.

Checking out in the AM was quick and easy, but we only had a little while before our long-tail boat left. With only an hour to spare we raced around the market buying the things we knew we'd need: water, beers, sarongs. Everything else we had on our backs. The long-tail ride across the bay and around the bend was exhilirating. And old Thai man steered us through the motorboat wakes and quickly we left the bustle of the pier behind us. Only twenty short minutes later we pulled into a cove of utter serenity. A big, open house with tables sat next to a chill little open-air bar. We were greeted with typical Thai warmness and shown to our bugalow a few steps away. Our porch had a bench. Within was a large bed covered by a mosquito net. A few shelves lay bare for our possessions. A toilet and shower was in the small room at the back. It was perfect. Within moments we had shed our packs and were back on the beach, this time utterly alone, perched in hammocks just above scuttling crabs.

Sitting there swinging softly in the sun, I was struck by how we were succumbing to the rhythms of nature. We woke early. We were asleep only a few hours after sunset. We told time by our shadows, by the ebb of the tide, by the rumblings of our bellies. It felt so good. I was thrilled to be away from tourists lumbering through the barely rebuilt streets of the tiny town near the pier. I was thrilled to be nearly alone on the beach with my wife, the staff, and a few other travelers. This was what we were looking for. This was gentle sway and easy breeze of hammock and heat and silence we were searching for

I laid back in the hammock, savoring. "Savor it Lu!" I called to her, where she swung on a hammock of her own. Her reply was only a smile. I closed my eyes behind my sunglasses and laid back, then remembered the incredible vista before me and opened them to take it in. Scanning the horizon filled only with clouds and distant islands, I chuckled softly to myself, and then opened up another book, ready again to delve into new worlds as I relished the majesty of the true world around me. We had made it. We were free.