8:15am wake-up. no sound of waves hitting the beach, 2 blocks away. But promise of said impending swell, gets me out of bed for the glassy morning session. Once again, back to the same spot as yesterday after. The water was calm and beautiful, glassy as can be, as I looked down the beach at the break, a few hundred meters away, I could see one person out and not a single wave. Not one little ripple, for ten minutes. So i grabbed my bag of mild disappointment and headed home.
Along the way, on the windy jungle road, I lightly swerved to miss all the land crabs scurrying across the asphalt. It’s the rainy season and the crabbies are in full bloom. The road is a patchwork of whitish-yellow-beige spots were some weren’t so fortunate.
Farther down the road a ‘Quatimundi’ family gallops on to the road. Quatimdundis look and move like slender monkeys with a very long ringed tail, kept high in the air, their long whiskered snouts low to the ground. The mother, the largest, moves across the road in a blur of speed, the size of a labrador. Three babies followed, the size of large cats and two males to fill out the end of the party, the size of smaller labs. As I drove by where they had gone into the jungle, I had hoped to see a lieutenant that stayed behind to make sure I didn’t follow. but no luck.
As I came out of the jungle into La Cruz, i was stopped on the road by two ranchers, trying to wrestle a bull cow that had obviously escaped his pen and followed by two of his most adoring fans. The three steers were running down the street, trying their best to avoid the ranchers’ lassos as the ranchers chased on foot, one barely able to keep his unbuttoned pants on straight, no shirt, flapping panza (beer gut).
As I got to the one street light intersection in La Cruz, an old doggy crossed the road in search of this mornings’ breakfast, with her six swinging utters flopping beneath her. A mother’s work is never done.
Sometimes, the journey is the destination.
