On my friend's mobile in Vietnam it goes a very irritating and unwanted "hip, hip" on repeat at 7 plus in the mornings when we only just managed to stumble our way back to our beach bungalow - hut - at 3 or 4 the last night. I - we all - groan. It's time to wake up - even if its on an island in the sun. The place is Phu Quoc island off the southern coast of Vietnam - a crazy one hour flight from Ho Chi Minh on a twin propeller plane, hopping out and walking into the warm sunshine and an arrivals that was more beach bar than airport - a medium-sized room with the sun shining in and luggage popping out from behind potted palm trees and touts in Hawaiian shirts handing out party pamphlets. It just needs some sand.
Funnily, by sheer serendipity I found the song and realised in a flash of recognition, half a year on, what the song was. It makes sense now, no longer a dismembered annoying "hip, hip". Phu Quoc was my island in the sun, the simple sweet lyrics, days spent in the company of friends trekking tropical hills, exploring the little seaside town with fishing boats pulling in and the smell of sea and seashells for sale with fish sauce (of which Phu Quoc is the gold standard for - we saw plenty - crates - on our way back by ferry to the mainland), going fishing out at sea at night watching the little lights on the island, cruising in the day, kayaking, just doing nothing on the beach listening to the crash of blue South China sea waves, and spending Christmas day on the sand. Those were good days.
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