We arrived expecting a week. We knew it was the kind of place that adds days, but five extra weeks took even us by surprise. Here is what we will miss the most, in no order.
The kitchen team. The way the gardeners drop fresh chillies on the bar at sundown. The dhow at golden hour, even though we only made it once. The chef who learned our names by day three. The hammock in the cashew grove that took us two weeks to find.
The sound of the creek at high tide, which is something we still cannot quite describe. The music nights. The reading corner near the pool. The small, low conversations at breakfast with whoever was sitting at the next table.
Mostly we will miss how unhurried it all is. How nothing here is scheduled to make you feel productive. How the days fall into shape on their own. We are going home with our shoulders three inches lower than when we arrived.
We will be back. Probably soon. Until then — keep the dawn paddle running, keep the cashews stocked, and tell the gardener we said thanks for the chillies.

