Mabul is the place to be; yellow room, on stilts, hovering over blue water with a view of the sky and the sound of boats. Out the mouth of the bungalow, there is a fishing village full of Bajau waiting. Dirt roads, chickens, and cats that fight in the dark, looking like giant tumbling rats. The room trembles with tide at night, and you can hear the foot steps of wandering employees and other people; who knows why they wander. The dive master refreshed my certification, then took me for a drink and said “Uh oh” before kissing me goodnight on the dock. What a lark, this life.