I GOT USED TO THIS PLACE A LITTLE TOO QUICKLY…
The laughable one-minute walk to the beach. Seeing every type of surf enthusiast in the water, at all hours. Pineapple gelato. The words “clouds” and “rain” disappearing from our vocabulary. Hanging the laundry to dry on our rooftop in slow motion, in attempt to soak in the view of the coast, the distant blue horizon, and the red mountains.
The market in the main square on Wednesday mornings, and the complimentary hot peppers and cherry tomatoes that came with it, just because the vendor was a friend of a friend’s mother. The traveling sand blowing in all directions, and rejoicing at the discovery of that spot on the beach that shelters you from it.
Discovering the strikingly contrasting, varying natural landscape in complete wonderment - the rippling seas of sand dunes, the pristine natural pools within walking distance, the hidden snorkeling spots unaccessible to the weary, and the miles of sandy hiking trails that turn your shoes pink.
The decaying, uneven boardwalk that always makes you trip, mocking you for looking around like a gaping idiot. The absurd difference between high and low tide, and adjusting your whole schedule around it. The kite surfing paradise created by the wind conditions – a resulting multitude of rainbow colors sailing in the air, fixed permanently in the sky against la Montaña Roja.
Rarely being too hot, or too cold, even indoors without air conditioning. Papas arrugadas with mojosauce. The freshest bananas and avocados that taste how they should, but better. El café barroquito.
The loud folk music concerts on Saturday nights, and trills of Spanish guitar echoing into our 2nd floor apartment as if we were in the front row. The extremely low cost of living. The almost-spiritual experience of walking the beach at the godly combination of low tide and sunset. The wet sand, like a layer of smooth glass, reflecting all colors in its gigantic mirror.
The bouncy way about the dogs – always happy, friendly, and running free like lunatics on the beach after dusk because they know they’re not normally allowed. The persistent swaying, moving and changing – the wind, the sand, the surf. Falling asleep to the sounds of these rhythms each night.