Around 1,000 people live on the island of Balicasag (crab shell), 14 hectares, 1 hr to walk the circumference. Everyone knows everybody. Every one is related from distant generations. Owned by the government as a marine sanctuary, no one can build a resort here. "Its an honor to stay on your land." I have never been on such a small island before. This is the slow season now and the high tide and winds picks up and mellows out around December for vacationers from winter seasons take a break. Next month in July they celebrate a two day festival in the honor of the local patron, Saint James. The atmosphere is completely different here. No buses, no motorcycles, no cars, no big skyscrapers, no pollution, no loud noise (maybe karaoke nights), the place is guarded by the saint of peacefulness.
Sitting on the coral sand as waves hit my legs, I look for diamonds in the sky. Perfect blends of brown and beige and pink and dark blue and lite green, and black and hazy edges and tactile curves follow my fingers over shells and coral that were alive breathing in and out of the sea filtering its gift of life to give life and offer life ages ago. This island is very sacred. I walk among one of them, on this island offering my thanks and respects to honor those who have lived here before and the lifestyles here before. This place is a place of marine sanctuary and probably the best in the world, or one of the last places, to experience untouched coral, land.
Bangka boats line the coral white sands. Fishermen wake up early in the sunrise to catch local fish with their lines in their hands as they peer into the sea with their masks A yell is heard across the wade from a lift of a huge 4ft baracuda from a small boat. A smile as wide as the waves thanks the current. There's going to be good dinner tonight for them. Palm trees rustle their song of wind stories and wave jokes. Small children play with sandcastles and yell and shout and laughter with each other.