We were greeted by Antonio and his friend Oscar at the airport. An airport agent offered to let me use his cell phone when it looked like we needed to reach out to find our ride.
The rural zone we passed through on the way here was populated with oxen, mules, dogs, men toting machetes, roadside fruit stands, where women, too, used machetes, slow-going sugar cane haulers, and women balancing heavy tubs on their heads.
My first thought once I set my daughter free to crawl in the grass was, it’s going to be hard to keep her clean. Then I realized, we are not going to keep her clean, and that’s okay; we’ll bathe her.
It’s so hot, the concern about warm enough water completely evaporated. You welcome the cool-down.
The ocean breeze is steady and strong and it keeps the bugs away. Our hosts, Ana and Gordon, are simple, gracious, and good-humored, now that we’ve warmed up to each other. We ate spaghetti for lunch. Then I sat with Ana and Gordon and ate cheese pupusas while my husband got a massage ($15/hour + tip).
Around 8pm I got a massage in the open air gazebo overlooking the ocean. We walked on the beach. You can see the whole Milky Way from here, and I saw a long shooting star (called estrella fugazin Spanish). Any night that I see a shooting star is a great night. I want to lie on the beach and stargaze all night. My husband came out and we had a lovely moment stargazing and smooching on the beach. Warm water on my toes. Low tide at 10pm. Sheen on the sand like a mirror. Surreal. Bliss! The smells of wood burning and massage oil fresh in our noses, emblazoned in our minds…
In the morning, I did sun salutations on a lava outcropping, with waves crashing all around me.
I’ve been staring at the ocean so long, when I close my eyes, I see waves rising up.
I swam way out into the ocean. Before I went, Gordon said, “…Well, there’s that panic…” as he debriefed us on surf conditions.
When I was ready to swim back to shore, my efforts didn’t seem to be taking me anywhere. I was riding the crests of giant waves, then watching them crash near Gordon and my husband, who were wading close to shore. I heard Gordon’s voice echo in my head. For a minute, I was scared I wouldn’t make it back. I huffed and puffed and swam front crawl hard, whenever a wave rose up behind me. It would pass under me, and I’d think, “Suckers”—I knew they were in for a thrashing, and I was floating way out past the breakers. Once my feet leave the sea floor, I feel like shark bait.