I feel over spent. I walked an hour south at low tide, to find Greg and Barb, long-ago neighbourhood friends. I talked. I listened. Joy and sadness punctuate all lives with before-and-after events that change our journeys. Great people. We know many people in common and share many old memories.
It was only a week, but, I had already grown used to shallow one or two word greetings with a smile, "Buenos dias. Hola", so socializing in friendship, while so enriching, is now an effort. So many thoughts are cycling in hindsight. My mind drifts backward.
From their balcony, after the parasailors and bevy of sloops had left the bay, we saw a whale, an active whale, breeching and breeching. New moon. Low tide.
I am in a small village and am probably now familiar here, with days of walking the few little streets and passing the same shops. Finally, yesterday, after the trek back, before hightide could force me into the softer sand, I went to a quiet beachfront Palapa and ate the local fare. Until now, it has been cans and crispy local (gluten free ;-) tortillas. It is the last restaurant to the north of the village. The breeze and view are free. I will go again. I do not like dining out on my own but, I found a corner under some palms where I felt less conspicuous. I read while I eat. That is rude.
Where does my mind go, from day to day? Well, as always, forward. I find pondering the past to be circular. Round and round as eyes flutter shutterly blind to where the feet trod. Sometimes, and rarely for me, the past presents itself in front. This has been such a week.
Time is such a soothing rocker. The roosters call before dawn. I hear the call of other birds too, the ones they project in the Coop grocery produce aisle. The village is very loud and it is not just music and highway and construction. The people too. It is a tourist zone, and everyone has a joyous sense of familiarity, calling, stopping to talk, children taunting one another. The bars open. The other tourists plan and reflect with eachother on the crowded streets. Then it ends again. The traffic diminishes and you can hear the breakers from a block away. Round and round. Energy spent. Days upon dawns. Nights upon dusks.
Effort is spent. Everything counts.
~~n Post#13 Day9/75
From their balcony, after the parasailors and bevy of sloops had left the bay, we saw a whale, an active whale, breeching and breeching. New moon. Low tide.
I am in a small village and am probably now familiar here, with days of walking the few little streets and passing the same shops. Finally, yesterday, after the trek back, before hightide could force me into the softer sand, I went to a quiet beachfront Palapa and ate the local fare. Until now, it has been cans and crispy local (gluten free ;-) tortillas. It is the last restaurant to the north of the village. The breeze and view are free. I will go again. I do not like dining out on my own but, I found a corner under some palms where I felt less conspicuous. I read while I eat. That is rude.
Time is such a soothing rocker. The roosters call before dawn. I hear the call of other birds too, the ones they project in the Coop grocery produce aisle. The village is very loud and it is not just music and highway and construction. The people too. It is a tourist zone, and everyone has a joyous sense of familiarity, calling, stopping to talk, children taunting one another. The bars open. The other tourists plan and reflect with eachother on the crowded streets. Then it ends again. The traffic diminishes and you can hear the breakers from a block away. Round and round. Energy spent. Days upon dawns. Nights upon dusks.
Effort is spent. Everything counts.
~~n Post#13 Day9/75
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