In Thailand, there was once a boatman. There were a lot of boatmen in Thailand, actually. But this is the story of one boatman in particular. He had a boat operating at the Andaman Coast. And when I say he had a boat, I mean it. Literally. That boat was his. It was a very old boat, belonged to his father before it belonged to him, but still: it was a boat. And the boatman earned a living being… well.. a boatman.

Day in, day out he was ferrying tourists from the mainland to the secluded beaches of Tonsai and Rai Leh. He didn’t mind the job, really. It was a job and while he did it, he thought about dinner. Or his family. Or both.

Of course, he was more than used to the faces by now. The faces of Americans and Europeans, pale white and tired from a long busride, who were sitting at the front of his boat and couldn’t believe their luck to have come to a place they often referred to as “paradise”.

The boatman had always wondered about that word. Paradise. A place so beautiful that it didn’t seem to be from this earth. He had never thought of his home like that. He grew up at the Andaman Coast, learnt how to fish and to steer the boat from his father, found his wife in Ao Nang twenty years ago, lost two cousins and his sister when the tsunami struck and helped rebuilt the area in the years that followed. They were tough years, really, they were the hardest. And till this day, the boatman felt uneasy working on these unpredictable waters. But he could never leave. This was his home. Not more, not less.

But paradise? What was paradise?

In fact, one day, the boatman couldn’t help but ask one of his passengers what it was they all saw in this place. He was a backpacker, young, maybe 25, from Germany, he said. They had just arrived at Rai Leh Beach, as the backpacker answered his question.

“I don’t know.. It’s… it’s just a magical place, don’t you think?”

“A magical place?” asked the boatman. (His English was nearly perfect by now.)

“Yeah. It’s magical, you know. It’s one of those places you should see before you die. Well, not necessarely this one in particular. But one of these beaches, you know? Palm trees, turquoise waters, white sand… it’s… it’s just… well, it’s beautiful, don’t you agree? You’re a lucky man. You get to see this every day.”

The boatman thought about what the backpacker had said and nodded in agreement.

“I don’t know, man,” the backpacker continued as he lifted his belongings and waded through the shalow waters around the boat,”I just want to look at life as this amazing ride, you know? And I want to enjoy it, I want to live it to the fullest and see every day as a new chance to be the best one of my life. That’s why I came here, to see this. To enjoy it. I don’t want to regret anything when I’m old, you know?”

The boatman nodded again. This conversation was starting to make him feel highly uncomfortable.

“So, what about you? Is there something you wish you had done in the past but didn’t?”

The boatman remained silent for a while, fiddeling with the cort of the engine, wishing he had never asked the backpacker about paradise. Then he said:

“I don’t know… Maybe I wish I had enjoyed the ride more.”

Then the boatman started his engine and drove off into the turquoise waters as he had done so many times before, trying to erase the last ten minutes from his memory.

But maybe, just maybe he did enjoy the ride this time.

Just a little.

For the first time in his life.

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