‘Sorry for the late notice, but
we’re closed down by the local government this weekend. You’ll get a free beer
if you book another time!’ Late notice indeed, and at our request, not even out
of their own initiative. It seems that the ostensible paradise of Sin Htauk is
falling victim to its own success, both in their inability to manage bookings
and supposedly to apply for the right type of licence. But with expensive
domestic flights already booked to regional hub of Dawei, we had no choice but
to look for alternative lodging. According to the guy from Sin Htauk all nearby
accommodation had been fully booked, yet when I contacted the ‘Coconut Resort’ –inspired
by a sly reference in the LP- they were more than happy to host us. And so we
went anyway Saturday morning, flying down south to the narrow peninsula that
Myanmar shares with Thailand.
Lovely though it was, the term ‘resort’
does justice neither to real resorts nor the homely, hostel-like vibe that
Coconut displays. While the absence of AC in the rooms, power for only a few
hours a day, and (adopted?) stray dogs might make the place sound a bit basic,
which it was, the great setting and home-cooked food more than compensated for
that. The common room featured low, Japanese style tables, encouraging guests
to adopt Roman dining positions, shelves full of second-hand books, and maps of
the area on the wall. Guests slept either in bungalows or in one of the small
tents that could be found amid the towering coconut trees. But there wasn’t
really much to do, and I saw the same
sleepy, familiar faces lounging on the mats every day. Hence, during the only
full day we had, we took to discovering the peninsula.
It wasn’t easy to get to,
paradise. I guess if it was, it would have been crawling with people, and I
wouldn’t call it paradise anymore. Now we were the only ones. The only ones who
i) knew about it, ii) didn’t live in the nearby fishing village and iii) were
crazy enough to lounge at a beach without shade during the hottest part of the
day. Temperatures must have been in the high thirties, if not higher, and there
wasn’t a cloud in the sky. For about two hours we had been on the move (and in
the sun), riding our motorbike along the main road snaking down the peninsula,
past villages and fallow fields. The area has a distinctively laidback, though
relatively prosperous vibe. It was remarkably green given the time of the year,
the roads were of decent quality and undergoing upgrading as we speak, and most
houses boasted two stories and colourful façades. The whole scene breathed tropical, from small scale rubber
plantations to mountains with lush vegetation, and from the burning sun to the
gorgeous beaches. Tourism is still vert nascent, and the large crowds on the
beach near Coconut were comprised almost entirely of locals. And the beaches
that are harder to get to... well, no crowds there.
It was not long after we had
nourished a tasty lunch of steamed rice with chicken that Jasmine (who was
doing the navigation) indicated that we had to take a right turn. ‘Here?’ I eyed
the dirt road disappearing into a forest, forking away from the main road that
continued down south. ‘Yeah, that’s what it says…’ Google maps left no room for
ambiguity, and so I rode our bike up the path. Our hostess had very kindly
explained the condition of the road that we were evidently on, stating it was ‘good
quality yes very good but up and down and up and down and going in sharp turns
like snake but oh yes very good quality’, which proves once again how opinions
might differ even when using the same adjectives. Okay, I must admit it wasn’t that bad. The gravel soon gave way to
sand, with intermittent rocks and potholes making the descent a little tricky,
but overall it was very doable. And it ought to be said that I was likely the
worst driver in the area, as the few villagers that overtook us did so at twice
the speed.
After this entertaining bike
ride, all that separated us from the beach was a stretch of mangrove forest,
with patches of sand, vegetations and ankle-deep water to wade through. And
then, finally, after crossing the last waist-deep (a little higher for Jasmine)
liquid hurdle, I tossed my rucksack aside and ran up the beach, soaking up the
gorgeous scenery all around. To the left were distant hills covered in verdant,
lush green jungle, whereas on the right one could make out a number of small
fishing boats, bobbing on the waves. And in front of us, an azure-blue sea,
stretching as far as the eye could see. The sand was made of the tiniest
particles and was bleach white, the water warm. We swam, gorged on the views,
the peace, the absence of any other human beings, and the serenity of the
place. Yet it was midday, the sun scorching hot, and no shade to be found, so
we couldn’t stay there the entire afternoon, however much we wanted to. So after
an hour or so in paradise, we waded our way back to the bike, snaked through
the mountain pass, up and down, onto the main road, through the now
familiar-looking villages, and back to Coconut.
And the name of the beach? I
think I’ll keep that to myself ;)
