What the Indian Ocean Cost Me: One Pair of Sunglasses

The evening light was dimming. The sunset had been a glorious production and now the light was quickly evaporating from the sky. Plunging us into a darker and darker world that was composed entirely of sea and sky. The boat hummed along. This was an upscale fishing boat that had been gliding through these waters for several years. It was comfortable, a part of the landscape.

We had spent the last couple of hours on a sand bank in the Indian Ocean. The men had been fly fishing and the women had been drinking wine on blankets and chairs that had been set up. It was not ever a place I had imagined being and it was awe-inducing that I had found myself here, in what felt like the middle of nowhere enjoying a comfortable chair and a cold glass of rosé.

When we returned to the house Sammy, the Portuguese chef, would have nibbles waiting for us while he finished making dinner: fresh-from-the-sea prawns in butter and garlic with salad and roasted veggies and homemade bread. Every night a different mouth watering dish.

The sky was filling with stars. There are more stars in the southern hemisphere than in the northern hemisphere and it was intoxicating to drink in the view. The benefits of being somewhere remote is that you can actually see where you are, you can feel where you are, and you can just be. You can just be without charging cables and the noise and lights of normal life.

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