Huvadhoo Journal - final notes and epilogue
In the afternoon, some of the Aussies, Mike, Dr Hoo and I take a walk through Gaafu Alif Villigili.
"Dr Hoo! Dr Hoo!" call out random people on the street and Dr Hoo smiles and waves. Then, some guy offers him a lift and they speed off down the road.
"Dr Hoo is Michael Jackson," smiles Mike. We pass the Gaafu Alifu Atoll hospital, a large building that looks very relaxed, not at all busy.
"It's very different in Male," Mike tells Jeff. "There'll be hundreds of people around the hospital at all hours."
"There'll be even more inside," I say.
We enter a shop, and the Aussies marvel the range of goods there, from toiletries to batteries to clothing. Cleg buys a shirt with the number 14 for his son. He loves the number it seems.
Then Dr Hoo comes to rejoin our little band.
"Oh, Dr Hoo! Look at you!" says Ted. "Looking sharp!"
Dr Hoo has got a haircut, shaving round his mohawk that he's styled into a bun. He laughs and gives Ted a high-five.
--
Dinner is fantastic, Chatura and Malli have prepared grilled grouper, vermicelli, a salad, and chicken curry. Afterwards, Cleg, Jeff, and I go to the top of the captain's cabin, the highest point on the boat. Viligili shines with bright yellow lights. And the full moon casts a silver shroud over the sea. The Aussies crack open their beers and we sit in a comfy silence for a little while.
"You married, Ablow?" asks Jeff.
"Yes," I say and show the pair my beautiful wife.
"Christ, Ablow," says Cleg. "Punching above ya weight much?"
We laugh and talk about our spouses for some time. Cleg has recently got re-married, and is still in a honeymoon phase with his wife. Jeff meanwhile has been married for almost three decades.
"Still good between the sheets?" asks Cleg. Jeff laughs.
"It's the first time we've been apart for this long," he says. "She's a very understanding woman though. I suppose yours is too, Ablow?"
"Oh, very. The most understanding person. You'd have to be to live with me."
We laugh again.
"What makes a marriage last?" I ask Jeff.
"Not getting in the way," says Jeff, thoughtfully. "And knowing when you're needed. How long have you been married, Ablow?"
"About half your marriage," I tell him.
"That's not bad at all," says Jeff. "Do you miss her?"
"I do," I say. "But I also enjoy the part of me that's missing her, you know? There's a kind of beauty in that."
"I know what you mean," says Jeff. "I feel the same, too."
A cold gust of wind makes me shiver.
"Feel that?" Cleg asks. A storm's approaching.
"A storm's coming again," he says, echoing my thoughts. "We have a few minutes."
There is music drifting up from Mike's large Soundboks speaker, One More Time, by Daft Punk. Cleg gets up and walks over to the steps.
"You girls coming?" he shouts.
Epilogue
There's bougainvillea on the buffet table. Calamari, tiger prawns, frankfurters, and a pilaf adorn the buffet counter. All of the crew and guests are gathered here on the Golden Flower's middle deck this evening. It's a special one, bidding farewell to half the Aussies who'll be gone the next morning.
We eat, the feast is bountiful and beautiful.
Then, everyone says a few words thanking Mike, Dr Hoo, Vijay, Chatura, Captain, Malli, and Sadies for all the good work they've done to make the trip memorable. Even the kids join in in the thanksgiving.
And the dancing begins. Dr Hoo astonishes with his radical moves, bending and twisting in ways fifty-year-old men probably shouldn’t. I bust out a few regulars myself to laughs and catcalls. More people get on the floor and it becomes a scene out of a Bollywood film, everyone dancing like they’ve lost it, Aussie rock blaring over the Soundboks. There's no distinction between guest and crew, now. We're all the same. All human. All in thrall of the moment.
--
We wake up early to see the guests off. Unlike the previous days though, the morning dawns bright and beautiful.
"Of all the days to leave," says Jeff.
We have breakfast, and Mike makes all of us pose at the prow for a group pic. Then, it's off to Kooddoo with the departing guests. Ted sits next to me on the speedboat and I ask him for his thoughts about the trip.
"To be honest Ablow, I think it's pretty unforgettable," he says in his quiet voice. "I wasn't sure how it would be with a group of strangers. But all of you made it really special."
On Kooddoo, Dr Hoo helps carry the trolleys with the guests’ surfboards. I walk with Jeff, slowly, towards the airport on a paved road lined with trees.
"It's a really eye-opening trip for me, Ablow," says Jeff. "Seeing how people live their lives up here, on those little islands. The effects of waste and pollution. I don't think I'll drink from a plastic bottle again."
I nod.
"It was great meeting you and Ted," I say. "You guys have a similar energy, you know. You roll with things. You don't complain. Maybe it's a surfer thing."
Jeff laughs.
"You don't come to the tropics expecting everything to be perfect," he says. "I don't understand people like that, Ablow. People who can't take things going different from what's expected."
"I used to be like that," I tell him.
"No way Ablow, you're far too chilled out," says Jeff.
"I think I wanted to have things a particular way and if they weren't, I lost it," I tell him. "I started letting go in my late thirties I think."
"Really," says Jeff. "Life's all about learning to let go, though, for me too.”
"It's one long preparation for death," I say as we pass by a patch of drooping flowers.
We’ve arrived at the entrance of the departure hall. I look at Jeff and see something soft in his piercing, grey-green eyes. He gives me a hug, holding me for a long moment.
“Christ! Get a room will ya,” roars Cleg and we laugh sheepishly.
Mike gets everyone checked in – it’s a five-star service that's on offer here at the Golden Flower. Guests don't have to do anything except turn up.
Jeff and I exchange emails before parting.
"I'm looking forward to reading your journal," I tell him.
"And yours," says Jeff. "It was really special here, you were a big part of it."
We leave them behind, and I wonder if I really will hear from him again. Is this the nature of such encounters, an intense spell of tell-all intimacy, and then, back to being strangers again? Will I email him? I ponder this as we head to the speedboat that's waiting to take us back to the Golden Flower. The clouds are brilliant and imposing against the vivid blue sky. The smell of earth, leaves, and pine trees weave a fine aromatic lace in the air. As we approach the boat, I spot Chatura on the deck with a Tiger in his hand, a bony figure lost in thought. The Golden Flower will be less crowded now, and sadder.
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