The flight into Thandwe airport is impressive. The airport itself sits on the beach, as you fly in you get a birds eye view of the beaches below and the Bay of Bengal strenching out blue and glittering in the sun. It’s a good introduction to Ngalapi.

The hostel I was staying at was pure luck. I had checked out places to stay a few months beforehand and there were a lot of mid ranged accomodation at the time. However when I went to book back in Mandalay, everything was taken. All that was available were resorts, starting at $300 a night and climbing from there. I had almost started to plan an alternative town to finish Myanmar on, but I felt determined to stay in Ngapali and scoured booking sites. That eventually paid off on the Booking.com, that had just listed a new hostel with free rooms and a reasonable rate. I booked it and hoped I hadn’t made a mistake.

The taxi ride into Ngapali was down a single main road from the airport, and soon the beach side of the road was dotted with giant resorts, and on the other side of the road scores of restaurants all advertising seafood. I even had to joke to the taxi driver about all the seafood restaurants we were passing, and he bust out laughing – seafood, seafood, everywhere seafood, he exclaimed!

The hostel turned out to be great. Away from the resorts and in the village itself, it had only opened less that two weeks ago, hence sheer luck on finding the place and getting room. They were still getting off the ground and learning how to run a hostel. So the beer was in an esky (despite them having fridge but only stocked with soft drink), however they just installed a daught beer tap (all Carlsberg for some reason, not local beer. Sponsorship perhaps?). With their two levels of balconies awash with the sea breeze, and prime spot a minutre from the beach, this is destined to be a favourite. The only downside was the internet was down pretty much the entire time (hence the late blog entries), and the power had a habit of going out. But meh, that just meant it was time to walk down to the beach. It’s a hard life.

After checking in I made my way back to where all the restaurants were and had a late lunch at a place called the Northern Star, which became my favourite place to eat and drink. I ordered curried pawns, and the dish came out with a pile of butterflied prawns still whole, with heads and shells. It was unbelievably delicious. But one main thing that struck me with this restaurant were the locals. There were only locals here, I was the only foreigner. I didn’t think much of this at the time until later that night, and more so the next days.

I wanted to try the next restaurants along this strip for dinner, and one of these restaurants had a tout of the front that got my attention. After looking over the menu I decided to take up the offer and eat here. It was a surreal experience. It was catered for westerners, and everyone around me was clearly staying at the resort across the road (called Amazing Resort; there’s hundreds of places in Myanmar that are called Amazing, Great, or what ever English word show are awesome they are) . I felt completely out of place, a stranger in familiar lands.

Yet this really exemplified the biploar nature of Ngapali Beach itself. The northern half of the beach is lined with resorts, and here you will find all the foreigners along with the more wealthier Burmese (mostly from Yangon). There’s a distinct line where the resorts finish (for now, more are being built further south), and the locals begin as you arrive in Ngapali village itself. That line is made more absurd by the restaurants, where there are two western restaurants – the Golden Fish and Sea Queen – with not locals at all, and right next door is the Northern Star that only locals visited (and myself).

There was even one night at the Northern Star where I was just chilled out drinking a beer and listening to the ocean, when two English girls entered in their finery. It was the third time I’d been here and this was the first I’d ever seen this happen. They sat directly behind me (maybe because they felt safety in numbers), and after brief moment with no time to read the large menu, I hear “I really don’t fancy this menu”, and they might as well have run out.

Since I preferred the company of the locals rather than the resort swilling snobs, I became slightly know at the Northern Star. The owner, a brilliant ever smiling women, and her staff, would wave as I came in. At one point I had a local teen come over and ask for a selfie. Sure, why not! He pulled out his mobile and a couple of selfies later his mate came over and asked for a photo too. So out there, in Ngapali, there’s selfies of me with locals. It’s weird to think about. I was even giving a wooden bottle opener as a farewell gift on my last night. O probably

Yet it doesn’t end there. Well, not more selfies. Just down the road from the hostel is the local beach front, a tree covered area lined with plastic tables and chairs, and stalls of food and trickets. It was the absolute perfect place to sit, watch the ocean, feel the sea breeze, and just relax. And, there’s not a foreigner to be seen. So I’d be sitting there and look over at another table, where a local would be looking at me. Then a big smile on their face would appear and they’d nod in acknowledgement, or even in one case a thumbs up. I felt like they were so happy to have a foreigner in their part of beach, rather than peretuating the divide

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Of Ngapali Beach itself, it’s stunning. On the Bay of Begal, it’s white sands and blue waters. The beach stretches for a enough distance that there’s so many places to make your own little bit of paradise. November is just the beginning of tourist season, with December the high point, so I wonder how much more people would be here. I get the feeling, at this point in time anyway, that you’d still have the beach to yourself. Pick a spot in the sand at the local end, grab an inflatable tire, and enjoy the blue waters. Bliss.

Not losing it’s core fishing village charm, the beach also has fishing boats that light up the nights horizon as they go find their catch for the next day. And upon that next day, fresh seafood is sold around the village and to the restauarnts. The prawns were amazing, but I found I kept going back to the squid. Oh Buddha, the squid was incredible, especially when curried Rankhine style (spicy). I couldn’t help myself, I was Squid Man.

Ngapali was to be the relaxing do nothing end of this trip, and it sure lived up to that. Just simply sitting by the beach, listening to the waves, the breeze, the seafood and beer, time slows down and you’re lost in your own thoughts. Thoughts of, how can I find a way to stay here for just a few more years (the owner of the hostel even joked to see me again next year)..

Yet all good things come to their end, and a flight back to Yangon then onward back to Sydney awaited. Four weeks is a perfect time for a holiday, and I was ready to return to western civilisation and Sydney’s own type of chaos.

Now time to plan for the next country to visit…