I wake, sprawled out, tired, where was I last night? - out partying again? I extract myself from the tangle of sarong, pillow and mosquito net that my bed has become during the night. My wooden beach hut, now my home, an upgrade from the shed in the jungle where the mosquitoes won the nightly battle for territory. I open the door look out across the kilometer long beach, through the coconut palms, and over my hammock... another hard day as a divemaster trainee begins. It's 7:30am the beach is still, the boatman and local cleaning lady from the fisherman's village are making their way from the sunlight speedboat through the water to the restaurant, "Selemat Baggi!" - good morning! I've been a scuba diver since 2002 when in Honduras I found that I was near
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