All of my other stories with poor metaphors and jumbled stream of consciousness will come after this one. Only because the solitude really sets the gears in my brain to churning. I set out not all that early, but early enough to be the first person up in the hostel. I surreptitiously gathered all my belongings in the way I learned as a child. Best not to make noise, even on holiday. I set off into the morning warm in the general direction of the beach. It may be ridiculous but anytime I am away somewhere that has a beach it is a tradition of mine to say goodbye to the beach before I go. Perhaps yesterday was too early to do that. You don’t want to rush things.
I pass the usual assortment of tourist/residents out getting themselves exercised: walking along the cobble roads, running along the sand, fighting with the surf on paddle boards. I don’t intend to go to far just to someplace I can sit and gaze out at the water as it plays tug of war with the shore. The water always wins of course but you can’t argue with the hypnotic effect of it. It soothes in a way almost nothing almost can. I’m not dressed for swimming because, well, I don’t want to go swimming.
The surf has coughed up all sorts of detritus: an assortment of wood, shells and rocks that have been rolling around it the surf for who knows how long, made smaller and smoother with each journey in and out of the water. The water is unpredictable at this time of day and if you’re not careful you will be rudely awoken out of any reverie you may be in by a sudden surge of water. The odd Pelican bobs idly but strategically near the waters edge waiting for fish that the waves pull in with its force.
The sun breaks through the clouds and a sudden blast of its warmth heats my face. I can see myself in the screen squinting against the sun and notice I have a mild case of bed hair. More and more people dot the shoreline. Pads are put on beach chairs, the sand is being raked, strains of Mexican music begin to strain through the odd restaurant, but the surf still forcefully pushes up under my feet. It’s much more placid during the day, restraining itself to a much more sedate distance. It’s hours before opening time and hours before people will be laying in all these beach loungers slathered in sunscreen and ordering cervezas.
The sun is teasing, hiding behind a small bit of cloud cover that cover thins to less and less. It will be a good beach day and a good day to say goodbye.