One of our neighbors is stepping out from the toilet - not much more than a hole in the ground - in a simple, square and unfinished brick building, just like her house. The 40-year-old woman is getting ready for a day in the rice field.

Time to plant the seedlings for yet another harvest. She is wearing blue jeans and a non-descript, worn and loose-fitting top. A mobile phone is peeking out of her trousers' pocket.

She waves to me.

Her boy has befriended our boys. Sometimes, after school, they play hide-and-seek together.

But he doesn't have much time, his lesson plans are tough and, recently, the language barrier has become a problem between the local children and ours. It seems that even though it has never mattered before, now, at their age, their friendship is in need of verbal communication.

She smiles, too. From mother to mother. And her eyes are beautiful, too.

Michael, my husband, is standing by the reception helping some American guests organize their day's activities. Yes, he has seen the girl with the Minnie Mouse jumper near the front. A Dutch family that lives and works in Shanghai is lazing in the hammocks, enjoying the peace of this island within a busy world.

The previous night they had seen stars for the first time in a long time. Lulu, our sausage dog comes running. Her thin tail is sticking up vertically, underlining her eagerness to go for a walk.

We take a right turn. "Guten Morgen, Peter" I call to a guest from Germany and "ni hao" to the old lady from down the road, who is taking her two muddy water buffaloes to the fields.

Life is good indeed.

As if in approval, a woodpecker gives a few loud pecks on the bamboo, some chickens flutter past and a cicada can be heard in the lush distance.

There she is, the little girl, beaming with happiness.

"Look, Mommy, a family of ducks has come to say hello!"