Finding My Inner Beach Bum

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As a California girl, some may think that I would take to the sun, the beach and hot weather like a pig to mud. But I’m from San Francisco, and we all know Mark Twain’s coldest winter was his summer in the City by the Bay. My Irish heritage means that temperatures over 75 make me feel faint, I coat myself in factor 30 sunscreen before I step out to get the mail, and my skin burns faster than a Christmas tree in July. So when my boyfriend Steve and I decided to move to Thailand to work on our novels, it wasn’t without great trepidation on my part.

For our new home, we chose Koh Yao Noi, a mere speck of an island near Phuket in the Andaman Sea. Scarcely 55 square miles, Yao Noi is a one horse town, where the biggest news in decades was the opening of a 7-11 in the village square. This isolating remoteness is precisely the reason we chose this place, combined with the empty beaches and smiling faces of every man, woman and child zooming past on a motorbike. For the next six months, I’ll be based in this watery island paradise, pounding the keyboard and trying desperately to ignore the seducement of the hammock swaying in the breeze on my front porch.

As I write this blog, my shoulders are peeling slightly after a sunburn I endured on the first day. Otherwise? Looks like this California girl has an inner beach bum after all.

Photo by Steven Moore

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