In Continuum.

The breakfast on day three was equally good, if not better than the previous morning. We ordered so much that the rest of the beach probably ran out of food for the next half of the day. Still, we couldn't be bothered too much because we were just that fascinated with the kind of food Nad, the sub-owner of the resort, carried out of the kitchen. There must be some kind of magical spell the cooks in Krabi put to their food, somehow everything just tastes better. My mother was initially afraid of the possibility of a stomach upset, fearing that the food on a beach may not be as clean as we hope it to be. But after two nights of zero stomachaches due to food poisoning, I wolfed down the food like no tomorrow at the dining table. Nad watched us in awe, and he must have been thinking that the people in Singapore are deprived. In truth, we are. We really are.

That day, I decided to have a little time to myself instead of following them on their climbing expeditions. I mean, climbing really isn't my thing, and it's not like I had the gears to climb either. Borrowing wasn't an option, considering the fact that nobody had shoes big enough for my feet. So I told the guys that I'd be hanging around the island premises on my own, taking time off to really write a few notes about the island and to read a book. No time, and no target. My aim that morning was to not have an aim at all, to do things in my own pace and not because someone else wants to do something other than what I desire. So the boys left after breakfast to the Eagle Wall, which is a short walk around the beach at low tide to try their hands on another easier wall, while I went back to my hut to get ready for a little nap before my day officially began. On the way back to the hut though, I thought to myself how strangely alien and familiar this place is to me all at once. On one hand we have the people around me being mostly rock climbers, and they all congregated here for the same reasons other than my own, which makes me a little alien to the place. But at the same time, however, I feel like The Beach is the kind of place I've always wanted to be. It was a conflicting idea really, and I brought that idea to bed that morning for the nap that ensued.

The first part of my solo trip really was just a stroll around the island, to get a mental idea of where everything is and how to get there. Then it was a trip down to Freedom for a good time spent writing and reading for the most part, hearing the conversations of foreigners around me as I read the same line over and over. The American from the other table, the one that looked a little Chinese to me, talked about rock climbing most of the time, like everybody else on the island. Then someone spoke German, and they all joined their tables and started talking in English for a while - still, about rock climbing. I do not blame them though, for any other topics being talked about on The Beach would be strange, to be honest. They've probably been on the island for weeks, or even months. You could tell from how they looked really, everything from the dirty hair to the battered travel bags, from the scarred fingers to the hole worn out sandals. Either way, I ordered an orange juice which somehow became a bottle of coke, and waited till the boys finish their climb over at Eagle's Wall over on the other side of the bay. But it was getting late, and they weren't calling me on my cell at all, which was strange. I waited some more, and then some more, and even more afterwards. Something was wrong, and that was when Jonno called.

I got back to my hut to see Joel waiting outside, since I was the one with the key to our room. Joel said something about an accident at the site, something about Azhar slipping and his left foot not being able to get out of the foothold in time. It twisted his left ankle pretty badly, and there was a nasty rope burn on his right arm when I saw him in his hut soon afterwards. I guess it could have been a lot worse, like being slammed into the side of one of those giant rocks or something. For the rest of the day, plans were canceled and other plans were made - like, how to get Azhar around without the need for him to walk, who would carry him from this place to the next and how we'd take turns to do so. It was a funny sight to see three grown boys carrying another through the streets of The Beach, with Joel and myself underneath his arm while Kevin carrying his legs as if Azhar was some kind of trishaw. That was how we moved about the island for the most part, and the ladies at the massage parlor saw us and laughed out loud, only to find out that we were carrying him around the beach for fun and laughter.

Azhar was treated to another round of massages, only this time it concentrate on his left foot. He groaned in much pain as the lady really dug down on his ankle as if it was a sponge of sorts. His left foot was pretty swollen by the time we got there, fat and purple and out of shape. Either way, I'm sure the massaging helped more or less, and we carried him back to the huts after the bandages were done. Day three was not an eventful one, except for the fact that most of us were pretty worn out after carrying Azhar everywhere for majority of the time. It was pretty tiring, considering the fact that he weighs a little over seventy kilograms, and only Kevin works out on a regular basis in the Azhar-carrying party. That was the end of the climbing expeditions for them, even though neither Kevin nor Joel made it up to the very top of any cliffs out there, which must have been a little disappointing but, I guess untrained hands can only reach so far.