Kenting Coast, kenting

When the land and sea can't decide if they're in a long-term relationship or just 'friends'.

As I continued my journey along the Kenting Coast, I couldn't help but marvel at how nature seemed to have a personality of its own here. The cliffs, with their dramatic drops and lush coverings, whispered secrets of ancient times, while the ocean, in its infinite blue, seemed to be playing a never-ending game of tag with the shore. It's funny how a place so serene can make you feel so small and yet so significant at the same time. I mean, here I was, standing on the edge of the world (or so it felt), and all I could think about was whether I'd remembered to turn off the stove back home. The waves, in their rhythmic dance, seemed to mock my trivial worries. The locals had told me about the sunsets here, but I was more interested in the present moment. The way the sunlight played on the water, creating a million tiny diamonds, was enough for me. Besides, who needs a sunset when you have this view all day long? Kenting National Park is like nature's playground, and I was just a visitor trying not to break anything. The sea, though inviting, had a way of reminding you who was boss. One moment, you're admiring the gentle waves, and the next, you're scrambling to keep your balance as they decide to get a bit too friendly. And as I stood there, with the wind teasing my hair and the scent of salt in the air, I realized something profound: sometimes, the best adventures are the ones where you don't have a plan. Or maybe that was just my excuse for not having a plan. Either way, it was working for me.