I was reluctant to go, agreeing only after a lot of coaxing and convincing. Although, it is probably more accurate to say that I agreed to go out of guilt and a fear of looking terribly antisocial if I refused. So, there I was sitting in the backseat of one of my office friend’s car between two coworkers I hardly knew, though they were keen on us “all being friends”. But I could not hide my discomfort and though they talked almost nonstop throughout the journey I would respond with little more than grunts and a yes or no or the occasional “hmmm maybe”. I just was not in the mood for small talk and really could not hide it. I preferred to look out of the window and see the rice fields and hills as we glided by on a remarkably quiet road. Just the occasional bus being driven incredibly recklessly seemed to disturb the journey and so it was not long before we were in the coastal region and the massive Krakatua steel plant was looming large. Now, I have been out to the east coast of Java numerous times before and usually I feel somewhat unhappy when getting the Krakatua steel site. After all, I am heading to the coast for some “sand, sea and surf” and so the last thing I really want to see is the destruction of that environment. But on this particular journey the coastal, industrial landscape of the steel factory was interesting and appealing to my eyes. The huge, endless conveyor belt that runs along the coast, it seems, for miles was now fascinating to me — though I had seen it a dozen or more times before. The massive articulated trucks parked up along the way, presumably waiting to transport the massive steel output of the factory, no longer bothered me. In fact they added to the fascination of the area. I was mesmerized by all this industrial paraphernalia and intensity and almost felt disappointed as it slowly faded from view and the coastal waters could finally be seen. The big factories became fewer and soon we were passing small beaches and a number of hotels and resorts. The colorful signs inviting us to sample the “catch of the day” did not tempt us as we traveled on toward Anyer and its beach strewn with rocky outcrops. The coastal road seemed long and was made hair-raising by the wild overtaking of the mini-buses that serve as public transportation. Finally the slender white tower of the Anyer lighthouse came into view and I knew we were close to our destination. We parked the car, checked into the hotel and I was glad to be able to take a shower and laze on the hotel bed for an hour or two; even if the mattress was sponge and uncomfortably thin. We had agreed to go out later in the afternoon to walk on the beach at around sunset, so a siesta was all I had on my mind for the afternoon. I soon fell asleep and my sleep was deep. It turned out to be too deep. A knock at the hotel door woke me abruptly and for about a minute I was heavily disorientated and quite dizzy. I had been dreaming but I could not remember about what. When eventually I made it to the door and opened it to see the beaming face of one of my coworkers I felt truly awful. “Come on* Let’s go, the sun is starting to go down,” squealed the beaming face. I said I would take another quick shower to try to revitalize myself and then I would catch them up on the beach. I got under the shower and turned up the water as high as it would go. It made no difference, I still felt sick to the stomach. But again guilt and fear took the upper hand and so I made my way out to the beach to see if I could catch up with my colleagues. It was not difficult; they had hired body-boards and were running into the sea making a spectacle of themselves — so much for a nice quiet walk at sunset on the beach. This time I felt no guilt or fear, I was able to calmly say to them I did not feel up to messing about in the water and so would proceed up the beach for a quiet walk. So I wandered on — past screaming children and happy families at play in the sand and the soft surf of the sea rolling up onto the beach. Their happiness only seemed to make me feel more depressed and lonely. Then I came to the rocky part of Anyer beach. Men and boys were fishing and busily exploring the rocks, almost like scavengers. The intensity of their searching made me curious too and so I began to look amongst the rock pools for whatever it was they were looking for. Small fish darted in and out of the rocks and this was evidently what the men and boys were after. Their small nets and plastic bags were filled with these tiny fish. I stepped precariously amongst the rocks but then missed my step, stubbed my toe and practically twisted my ankle. I shouted out in agony but nobody seemed to look except one small girl. She was no more than 10 years old but looked at me not like a child but like a mature adult. Her hair was wet and her clothes were too but I had not seen her in the water before. Her deep dark eyes looked at me with an intensity that almost seemed unbearable. It seemed as though she were reading my thoughts. She looked at me and frowned. There seemed, momentarily, to be a reprimand in her face as slowly she shook her head. But then she smiled at me and unhurriedly she raised her arm and opened the palm of her hand toward the sea. Without saying a word she was telling me to look at the sea; look at the setting sun and to think. Involuntarily I moved my eyes and my head to look at the wondrous seascape before me. The sun was setting brilliantly on the horizon — a golden orb distributing phenomenal colors all across the sky. The distant shapes of the islands were silhouetted in the vibrant glow. I literally bathed my body in this beautiful light and at the same time bathed my mind. I was suddenly overcome with calm and a knowledge that everything was going to be alright. In this stunning scene I saw that all my worries and fears were but nothing and mere distractions from what really mattered. This little child had shown me that. I turned back to look at her again, to thank her, but she was gone. She could not have escaped my view. Before she was standing amongst the rock pools and she could not possibly have run from them out of my sight. I asked the fishing boys and their fathers where the girl was, but they just looked at me as if I were mad and said “What girl?” She was gone but was she really ever there? She was and she showed me something. She showed me the world and she showed me my life in it. I had been so busy living life that I was missing it. I was missing what really mattered. I turned to walk back to join my friends. I kept looking back over my shoulder wondering if she would reappear but of course she would not. Her work had been done. In a moment she had changed me; in some ways returned me to whom I ought to be. My spirit had returned and I rejoined my friends a new person and began to appreciate them and all that I have and there is in this world. She was but a moment but she was so much. I cannot explain her but she restored my belief and who can explain belief?