Today, my sister and I had the entire beach to ourselves, so we goofed off like five-year-olds with no shame. I don’t know what it is that keeps the other vacationers in the chlorinated pools and lounge chairs when there’s the ocean; perhaps it’s the “beware of jellyfish” signs or the numerous crabs running around on the sand—but my sister and I are the type of people who once owned vast rock and seashell collections, “dug” for fossils, believed in finding geodes, even dissected owl pellets. We can go to the beach or hike up rocky trails on a stormy day (which we’ve done before in Kenting, during a small-scale typhoon). We can spend hours by the tide pools looking for hermit crabs and colorful fish. When in nature, nothing else seems to matter.