THE OCEAN
We were a good five and a half hours into the flight, nearing the end of our long journey, when I became conscious of it. There were a few oohs, window blinds were lifted, sunshine began to filter in and total strangers began to converse, smile and engage with one another. It was at once noticeable, this air of anticipation mixed with an almost Zen-like serenity. We were happy!!! We had reached the sea! If you ever decide to visit this charming little piece of paradise, I recommend booking your seats on the left side of the plane. All flights, as they come into the Huatulco airport, make a sweep out over the ocean and bank hard to the left before making their final approach. Those sitting on the left side of the aircraft are allowed a wonderful preview of where they will spend the next few lucky days of their charmed lives, as they gaze out onto the numerous beaches and accompanying resorts.
Approximately 71% of the Earth’s surface is covered in oceans. Somewhere around 80% of the human population lives within 60 miles of a coast. It’s been an intercontinental avenue of trade for centuries and been a reliable food source to us, really since we started walking upright. Even land locked losers like me who live in the frozen hinterlands of the interior are intimately connected and ultimately dependent on the big blue water of the sea. But it doesn’t explain the magic, does it? How do you explain the animated discussions, the un-refrained expressions of joy between people who an hour earlier avoided eye contact with each other and sometimes pretended to be asleep so they didn’t have to engage in conversation (I prefer putting in the airpods and cranking up the Five Finger Death Punch. I’m grumpymarty for a reason)? There is really no rational reason for this change of behavior but it happens. Even I became borderline sociable.
INTERLUDE
Most mornings, after breakfasting on toast and jam, the Mrs. and I would fill our large mugs up to the brim with earthy Oaxacan coffee and toddle up the two flights of stairs to the rooftop terrace. January is the dry season in these parts and the heat comes early. By 9 am we were fully ensconced in the plunge pool, engaged in quiet conversation while below us on the street groups of two, three or four, mostly retirees here for the winter, were beginning their morning treks into town for a coffee, perhaps a bit of shopping or maybe even an early stroll along the water. Nobody seemed to be in any particular hurry, and really, why should they? I would watch them as they sauntered down the sidewalk, stopping every so often to catch a breath or in some cases to emphasize a point they were making in conversation. There was contentment in their voices and though they were no longer young, joy was present as they moved along. I watched them from above, and it made me happy.
Lunch was a simple affair. A ham sandwich with mayo, potato chips and a hunk of cheese that tasted like a very mild Swiss was all that was required and we both agreed that it was the best tasting lunch ever. The sun was climbing high and the heat now intense. The beach was a five minute walk. It was time for a swim.
BEACH
Going to a beach is special. For me, each and every time upon arriving, I’m filled with a sense of wonderment, gratitude, humility. Chahue Beach is not the most scenic I’ve ever been to, It’s not even the most scenic in this region. La bandera roja, the red flag which flies most days, tells one that this beach is dangerous, mostly due to the strong undercurrents. The waves which roll in are perfect for bobbing but you have to time your entry into the water; if you get caught in the break, like I did once, the water will flip you around like being in a washing machine, suck you right up the beach and fill your shorts with sand. The Mrs. found this most amusing. And once in, don’t go out too far, for real! The current wants to pull you away and it’s a full on swim just to stay close. That being said, there is a happy place out there where you can happily bob along, rising and descending, in awe of the power that currently envelops you.
Maybe it’s the sense of weightlessness, or maybe it’s the long supressed but never forgotten memories of what it’s like to be a child at play, but when floating about we are allowed to be boys and girls again, if only for a fleeting moment. It is permissible here to laugh with wild abandon as a wave picks you up and rolls you into shore. Revel in it, abandon yourself to it. Soon, we will have to return to land, to feel the burning sand beneath our feet, to acknowledge the aches and pains from a body that has taken too many knocks for what sometimes seems like far too many years. But we were out there, weren’t we? It wasn’t for very long, certainly not long enough for our liking, but we were there, there in the warm, tropical sea under a cloudless cerulean sky. The moment may be gone but the memory will last for ever. The ocean has given us a gift. Take it!!! It is ours!!!