Blogger's Block

Having just returned from Sunday birria at Shambhala, my belly is full and my thirst is quenched. The morning is a glow. Life is good…….right up to the point that I sense my mind is void of any clue for this week’s blog. So what now? I react in the same manner any self-respecting male has done for centuries, I sit and ponder. I ponder my most recent insect bite; I ponder the water line on the rocks across the bay; I ponder Nikki’s belly when I rub it; I even ponder my belly. Then suddenly an errant thought descends into that vacuous intellect of mine------advance to the kitchen-----open the refrigerator----extract a singular Pacifico, plunk your rump on the couch and await inspiration. Alas, it works!  

We live at the top of a four story concrete building. Casa Azul is a spacious casita with an entry way, full kitchen, tiled bathroom, living/dining area and two large bedrooms. The north facing wall supports five foot tall windows across its entire span of twelve linear feet.  The vista reveals the entirety of the Playa side of the bahia. Every water taxi, panga, kayak, log, beach towel, reclining lounge, cavorting dog, ice chest or bare chest is observable. It creates a sixty square foot big screen. Diana and I (Memo) have been known to lose hours gazing or even gawking in absolute amazement.

As I write this, one of our neighbors, Alejandro is out testing a new wing with his motor-assisted, para-sailer. While the small motor spews noises akin to a Tim Allen enhanced food processor, the aerial acrobatics mitigate any irritation. He sways, ascends nearly vertically, kills the motor and pilots his craft over the next half hour around the bay. Visitors on the beach lust for such freedom; dogs pursue the shadow and bark at some perceived flying threat. Our pilot executes his return to the sandy beach, observers applaud; he smiles and responds to their polite inquiries.

Sunday is family day in Yelapa. The afternoon draws the various clans to the beach. Youth of all ages frolic in whatever surf is lapped up, over and around them. A collage of teenage boys immerges with boogie boards in tow. They while away the ensuing hours bonding, shouting, riding and thrashing in the swells which only rise in their sector. Shadows announce the arrival of evening, families re-group; the young males scan the horizon for one last set and the beach empties.  

Paradise demands engagement, embracing and total immersion. Only then do we understand and appreciate our place within it.