I was walking the beach this morning early after a horrid night of monsoons and had to reflect on what an easy life we have. Men were out setting up their plastic cabanas for the Sunday family crowd and had to sweep, rake and dig holes to bury the trash that had come on the tide. I was fascinated with the concept of digging a hole in the sand and burying the crud...rather than carting it off somewhere. The city workers appeared around 11 to begin picking up many raked up piles of trash...after the small independent business men had worked for hours making their tiny plot of beach that they marked out, clean and nice for the visitors.
And the poverty...it is everywhere but the need to bathe in the sea, wash your clothing there and then begin fishing for your food is just so alien to our lives. I walked quite a few miles today, pondering and mulling and often found myself laughing at this woman walking the beach, talking and thinking in Spanish.
There is a conference here and there are several people who are speaking English in the restaurant...fun to hear it even though they make me cranky when they get frustrated that the waiters don't understand them. Have interrupted a couple of times to help translate. And I have three very special men who wait on me and who are practicing their English greetings every day. And they are terrifically proud of themselves. We even practiced hello, good-bye, thanks and you are welcome in German and Italian. This is a very international community and I could easily live happily here for the rest of my life.
Here are piles o trash and men pulling in their catches.
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