Ríncon Breeze
Posted on June 16, 2009 - Filed Under self reflect
In our first hour we learned which lane NOT to go through for tolls ($50 fine, already), that the only way to get anywhere is to cut people off, that people LOVE their horns here, American dollars work, and the climate isn’t too far off from Florida coastlines (a bit cooler). We also saw a Condom World, Condom City, and Condom Castle, were mesmerized by ads for “Angry Whoppers” and were a bit thrown off by “gas prices” at 67.9 cents (a liter). Puerto Rico is beautiful, not unlike Colombia. The rain forest creeps into and onto everything. Even telephone and power lines have creeping ivy slithering over highways and bridges. The water, darker than the keys, still has spurts of crystal green between the deep blues.
Today we decided just to hang quietly on the beach, warming our bodies by the sunshine until the afternoon rains came sprinkling in. I love the way the breeze comes off the ocean and runs through the palms and fig trees. The tips of the palms wriggle like fingers – either facing down like a dozen fingers tapping at the air, or upwards like long fingers calling to the breezes- come this way… here… here. The colors, full of blues and greens, with splashes of red as the blooms of one of the tropical trees cascade down the mountains sides, almost like the start of autumn, bright and powerful. The beach here is almost empty most of the time, strewn with driftwood and fermenting fruit. It doesn’t smell like ocean at all, but more pungent like fermented figs and peach. The sand, a darker color, stained by the tannins of the rain forest, is soft against the skin though gritty and coarse when you squeeze it.
This side of the island is calm, the waves crawl over each other at the edges of twisting beach lines, making the sounds separate and come together over and over, gently, like being in a canyon where the echo circles around you on both sides. The duality is hypnotic.
My thoughts run along the beach, away from me long enough to allow me to sink into a sandy cradle – then return again to check if anything has changed. With that blows in fantasies about life as it might be, dreams about what I would like to do, and a gentle call, deep in the crevices of my being, that assures me everything will work itself out; the universe is holding me as it always has…