February 19, 20013
We’re obliged to move on, because Palm Paradise is booked out, cycling 50 kilometers through the burning heat to Mirissa, another beach town. Everywhere people are patiently waiting in the heat for the future to arrive, passengers for buses, tuk tuk drivers for customers, shop keepers for buyers, surfers for waves and fishermen for fish.
Mirissa is almost fully booked, but in a complex of small bungalows built on top of a promontory there’s still a bungalow free, decorated with a colorful half-dressed mermaid painted across its ceiling, and a balcony from which a sliver of the Indian ocean is visible through a grove of palm trees.
The beach is teeming with Europeans and Russians in bathing suits sitting at beach bars equipped with wifi, and surfers without wet suits riding the long waves into shore.