Alex Garland - The Beach

Shock was right. The person who gazed back at me over the sink was a stranger. My skin was darker than I'd imagined it could possibly get, my black hair had been sun-bleached almost brown and matted into curls, and my teeth were so white they seemed to jump out of my face. I also looked old - twenty-six or twenty-seven - and there were some freckles on my nose. The freckles were a particular shock. I never get freckles.

I stared at my reflection for five minutes at least, transfixed. I could have stared for an hour if Jed hadn't called me back to order some food.

'What did you think?' he asked, as I wandered back to the table, grinning like an idiot.

'Really weird. Why don't you have a look too? It's great.'

'No... I haven't seen myself for six months now. I'm saving up to completely freak myself out.'

'Six months!'

'Uh-huh. Maybe more.' He tossed me the menu. 'Come on. What'll it be? I'm starving.'

I glanced down the enormous list, pausing on banana pancakes but thinking the better of it.

'I believe I'd like a couple of cheeseburgers.'

'Cheeseburgers. Anything else?'

'Uh... OK. Spicy chicken noodles too. We 're in Thailand, after all.'

Jed stood up, glancing over his shoulder towards the sunbathers on the beach. 'I'll take your word for it,' he said dryly, then went to place our order.

While we waited for our food we watched TV. There was a video at the far end of the café and it was playing Schindler's List. Schindler was on a horse watching the ghettos being emptied, and he'd noticed a little girl in a red coat.

'How about that coat?' Jed asked, sipping his Coke.

I sipped my Sprite. 'What about it?'

'Do you reckon they painted it on the film with a brush?'

'On each frame? Like animation?'

'Yeah.'

'No way. They would have done it with a computer, like Jurassic Park .'

'Oh...' Jed drained the bottle and smacked his lips. 'It's the real thing.'

I frowned. ' Schindler's List? '

'No, you twerp. Coke.'

The food must have taken ages because by the time it arrived, Schindler was looking at the red coat again. If you've seen the film you'll know that's an hour after he first sees it, if not more. Luckily, I discovered that the café had an old Space Invaders machine, so for me the waiting wasn't so bad.

Kampuchea

Jed gave me a choice. I could go with him to sort out the rice or I could stay on the beach and meet him later. He didn't really need my help so I decided to stay. In any case, I had my own shopping to do. I wanted to restock my supply of cigarettes and get more batteries for Keaty's Gameboy.

In one of the other Hat Rin cafes I found a shop - or a glass counter with a few goods beneath it - and after buying the batteries and cigarettes it turned out I still had plenty of money left to get a few presents.

First of all I bought some soap for Unhygienix. That was tricky because they had several varieties - some western, some Thai, but none of them the brand I'd seen Unhygienix using. I rummaged through the bars for a while before finding one called 'Luxume'. It said it was 'Luxuriant yet perfumed'. The 'yet' turned my head and the 'perfumed' clinched it, knowing how important this was to him.

Then I bought a load of razors, which I thought I'd share out between me, Étienne, Gregorio and Keaty. Then I bought a tube of Colgate for Françoise. Nobody used toothpaste on the beach; there were ten toothbrushes which were shared by everyone, although many couldn't be bothered and just chewed a twig each morning. Françoise didn't mind sharing a toothbrush but she did miss the toothpaste, so I knew she'd appreciate the gift.

The next purchase was several packets of boiled sweets - I didn't want anybody to go empty-handed - and finally I bought a pair of shorts. Mine were getting ragged and I couldn't see them lasting more than a month or two.

With my shopping done I had nothing left to do. I had another Sprite, which didn't last long, so I decided to pass the time by walking the length of Hat Rin. After only a few hundred metres I gave up. There was nothing much to see apart from beach huts. Instead, I sat myself down on the sand and paddled my feet in the water, imagining the warm reactions I'd get when I handed out my presents. I envisaged an Asterix-style scene, returning from the adventure to a huge feast. We'd have to do without wild boars and Gaulish wine, but we'd have plenty of dope and more rice than you could shake a stick at.

'Saigon,' said a male voice, and broke me straight out of my daydreaming. 'Mad.'

'Sounds it,' said another voice, female.

'We were there two months. The place is like Bangkok ten fuckin' years ago. Probably better.'

I looked round and saw four sunbathers. Two girls, English, and two boys, Australians. All of them were talking very loudly, so loudly it was like their conversation was aimed more at passers-by than each other.

'Yeah, but if Saigon was mad, then Kampuchea was fuckin' unreal.'

This was the second Aussie speaking — a skinny guy with very cropped hair, long sideburns, and a tiny patch of beard on his chin.

'We were there for six weeks. Would have stayed longer but we ran out of cash. Had to get back to Thailand to pick up a fuckin' wire.'

'Good scene,' the first agreed. 'Could have stayed six months.'

'Could have stayed six years.'

I looked back to the sea. It was a familiar enough exchange, I thought to myself, and not worth tuning in to. But then I found that I couldn't tune it out. It wasn't the volume of their chattering; I was intrigued that the guy had been talking about Kampuchea. I wondered if this was the new term for Cambodia.

Without thinking it over any more than that, I leant towards them. 'Hey,' I said. 'Out of interest, why do you call Cambodia Kampuchea?'

All four faces looked at me.

'I mean,' I continued, 'it's Cambodia, right?'

The second Aussie shook his head, not like he was disagreeing with me, like he was trying to figure out who I was.

'It's Cambodia, right?' I repeated, in case he hadn't heard me.

'Kampuchea. I've just been there.'

I got up and walked over. 'But called Kampuchea by who?'

'Cambodians.'

'Not Kampucheans, then.'

He frowned. 'What?'

'I'm just interested to hear how you picked up the word "Kampuchea".'

'Mate,' the first Aussie interrupted, 'why does it matter what we call Kampuchea?'

'It isn't that it matters. I was just interested because I thought Kampuchea was a Khmer Rouge name. I mean, I'm probably wrong. Maybe it's just the old-fashioned name for Cambodia, but...'

The sentence trailed off. I was suddenly aware that all four of them were looking at me as though they thought I was insane. I smiled uncertainly. 'It isn't a big deal... I was interested, that's all... Kampuchea... It sounded strange...'

Silence.

I began to feel myself blushing. I knew I'd made some kind of faux pas but I didn't know what it might be. With my smile getting increasingly desperate I tried to explain myself better, but my confusion and nervousness only made things worse. 'I was just sitting over there and you said "Kampuchea", which I thought was a Khmer Rouge name, but you also used the old name of Ho Chi Minh City... Saigon... Not that I'm making a parallel between the VC and the Khmer Rouge, obviously... but...'

'So what?'

This was a fair point. I considered it for a couple of seconds, then said, 'So nothing, I guess...'

'Then why are you bothering us, mate?'

I couldn't think what to say. I shrugged awkwardly and turned to walk back to my shopping bag, and behind me I heard one ofthem mutter, 'Another fuckin' space-head. Can't move for them, man.' The comment made my ears burn and the tips of my fingers tingle. I hadn't had that feeling since I was a little kid.