Forget yoga retreats, says this writer. If you want to find yourself in South-East Asia, try learning to dive, or jump on a motorbike.
I’VE been sitting still for an hour, watching, listening, in the dark. Macaques swing through the cliff-top trees opposite, the drilling of cicadas has begun. Frogs take up the chorus below, the river rushes ahead, gibbons whoop in the distance. Even the leaves are noisy, falling around the deck of my beautiful treehouse with a thud. Stars appear to rush towards me; fireflies twinkling in the Takian trees.
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