This place has seen better days.

As you step in a dusty cobweb gets stuck on your pant leg. Nobody's inside. It smells mouldy and acrid in here. The walls were painted blue, but they've peeled to reveal the wooden planks underneath.

The brochures and posters have extremely dated graphic design. You feel as though nobody's set foot in this building since the dawn of the new millennium.

On the wall there's a few informational signs displaying the town's history of fishing, whaling, and trading. At one point this town was the headquarters of an infamous pirate crew.

What catches your attention is a wrinkly tourist map of the town and the surrounding environs. It dates back to the 80s. From the looks of it the town was no smaller than it is today. In fact it seems as though there were a lot more things to do here back then, giving it the impression of being bigger.

You recall the island you saw while driving in. If it was as big as you remember then it should be on the map. You glance closer at the map. You zoom in on the shoreline, then the sea.

There are a few beaches and one mudflat, and a few barely-noticeable sandbanks offshore. But there is no pink island to be found.