The garden of eden

El Nido

 

What a house, and what a room it was. A simple room, it was dark except for a soft green glow, and it had nothing in it but two beds on tiled floors. The house itself had two stories, set against a cliff backdrop, standing at the edge of the Garden of Eden. With two attic peaks on either side, it was like the emperor's residence, worthy only of those who had travelled the long distance - and knew the secrets - to get there.

 

Stepping out the front door, you stand on the porch looking over a sunlit garden paradise of cobbled paths and tall coconut trees. The garden was green - so green - and waist high plants lined the labyrinth of paths.

 

The emperor's name was Dan; a Canadian by birth who had lived in Hong Kong for some years, but who had discovered what it was like to wake up in corner of the world you could call your own, one that no jungle of skyscrapers could ever replace.

 

What would drive a man to leave his life in the city - work, money, a career - to live out here in the gardens of El Nido, miles away from anything?

 

Beyond the garden was a beach. It ran along a gentle curve, deserted except for a few small huts and lines of coconut trees just back from the water's edge. The ocean beyond - stretching as far and wide as the eye could see - had huge limestone cliffs rising out of the water. I had found paradise, or rather, it had found me.

 

After a lazy morning, reluctant to leave, we set about to explore El Nido town.

 

El Nido town is a charming little town seemingly set in a Hollywood studio. From the tiniest inlet of the vast China sea, it nestles amidst strikingly tall cliffs, dwarfing the little shacks and sheds of the town. Kids played basketball, using the side of the cliff as their outline.

 

During the day the few tourists that actually make it to El Nido are touring the nearby islands, so with Derek and Josie we enjoyed walking around the town, having a habitual beer every hour or so and sampling the local seafood - calamari, crab meat, and other such assortments.

 

As the sun set over the limestone cliffs late in the afternoon, we watch the long boats stroll into shore, Filipino kids playing in the shore with not a care in the world. We bought a whole chicken and some rolls for NZD$3 for dinner, carrying it back to our corner paradise.

 

Now, as again, luck would have it (well, bad luck for some) - or perhaps, divine intervention - a typhoon had delayed the arrival of Diego and his fiancee, Derek's friends, so our accommodation for the night (which we still hadn't worked out) would be a small cottage right on the beach corner. We could literally walk 20 metres, past the hammocks, to the water's edge, seeing limestone cliffs in every direction. 

 

How lucky and fortunate we were.

 

Dan and his staff had set up a small bar on the corner beach, and with Derek and Josie we watched the sun go down over the islands, creating a beautiful, pastel coloured shroud of red, blue and gold in the sky. Never before had I seen such a beautiful sunset, and never before had I experienced such a picturesque place.

 

And never believing in my own fortune, skill, or good luck, or in other words, a healthy appreciation for events beyond our control, we owed our experience in part to the kindness and generosity of Derek, Josie, Dan, Diego and all the other people who made our stay, all of whom we think of very fondly, and can't possible thank enough. Guys, thank you. For everything.

 

Before I forget, we'd each drunk about six or seven beers throughout the day, so the beer buzz combined with our surroundings created a surrealistic sense of being in a cloud of bliss, and it was at that point that we found ourselves talking to some American girls down by the water.

 

Against the backdrop of a passionate red sky, the heat and sweat of the night, the glow of night creatures and the gentle lapping of the water, we sailed the night away.

 

So lucky.