The Perfect Day

I wouldn't think of making this up or sensationalizing. Everything below accurately captures how it felt to be alive on Saturday June 23, 2007.

The sun hadn't risen when I popped out of my chalet at the South Pacific Resort. An order of hashbrowns and banana waffles and I was off along the Western coast to Tekek, the hub of Pulao Tioman (also known as Bali Hai - my special island). Refreshing winds lazed across the beach as monkeys played in the palms, dropping coconuts onto the sand below (just like in the cartoons) and the walk was cool and calming.

I turned off the main road past the village Mosque and into the thickets of the island's interior. And what an interior - trees a hundred feet tall lined the slopes as the stone covered trail led deeper into the foilage. All around, birds sang and branches cracked as monitor lizards, monkeys and small deer ran from the massive orang putai (white man) trekking about. I can't say the trek was easy, exactly. By the time I got to the top of the hill (four kilometers later), sweat covered every stitch of clothing I had on. That's probably why the breeze from the ocean that met me as I crossed the ridge felt so nice. And the view stretched out resplendently - mountain ridges and valleys melting into the welcoming Juara bay below.

I checked into the secluded, beach-side Rainbow Chalets and immediately set about to some serious relaxation (oh so welcome after the six-mile hike). Lazing on a beach cot with a good book and plenty of water took up most of the late morning and into the early afternoon when I went exploring the rocky point near the resort. A lunch of pineapple fried rice, roti telur and a refreshing coconut juice gave me enough energy for the long hours of swimming in the crystal clear waters that spread out from the beach. As I reclined in the ocean waves and played with some of the local children who came for a respite from the hot sun, crabs scuttled across the rocks and fish jumped in and out of the surf.

By this time I was already exulting in this God given gift of a day. Juara was nearly deserted and the travelers that were there seemed content to work on their tans from the comfort of their own chalets, granting free reign. It was like the whole beach, nay, the whole island belonged to me and me alone. As the sun set, I walked back to my chalet, changed for the evening, and traipsed over to a nearby restaurant serving banana milkshakes and the Bushman - a local concoction beyond description.

A storm moved in while I was eating and lightening split the sky. After finishing the food, I crossed through the downpour and put on my swimsuit again - this time to go play in the rain. The tide moved out, leaving dead coral across the beach, and the falling water felt crisp, cool and wonderful. My senses crazed in the moment: the smell of rain on sand, the touch of the cool water, the sound of the ocean waves and surrounding storm, the sight of flashing lights against the darkness, and the taste of the dinner so lately eaten. The wonder of being alive.

I walked across the bay and left even the small signs of civilization that were there, coming to a stretch of beach entirely deserted. Knowing no one was around, there was only one thing I could do - I took off my swimsuit and walked naked across the beach (nothing sexual here - it just felt right). Soon after, the storm ceased and the moon and stars began to shine down. I stopped, sat in the sand, and sang softly to the sea. On my way back (clothed again) I felt filled with energy, and began running across the sand. A couple of miles dodging coral and breathing in the sea air passed quickly and as I got back to my chalet the rains fell again, washing off the sweat and refreshing my muscles.

The prayer I said that night was filled with gratitude at the wonders of the world - and for the chance I had to live another perfect day in it.