A long time ago, in a life far, far away, I had a friend who worked in a photo-finishing shop.
It sounds somewhat quaint to recall that everyday folk would take rolls of films, documenting their lives, to complete strangers for developing and printing. That was the world in the 80s.
He once told me that the job was one of the most boring he had ever had. When he looked at other people's photographs, he realized just how trivial and meaningless life was. I should point out he had a degree in philosophy. Need I add that he styled himself a student of Sartre?
I thought of Jerry today as Darrel and I walked along the Melaque beach. We have both been losing weight on this trip. So, we decided to kick up the process by taking a constitutional.
Several other bloggers have used the conceit of taking a walk to showcase snapshots of their neighborhoods. I am going to join the band wagon.
For those of you who are accustomed to the quality photographs on the sites Bille Mercer, John Woods, and Gary Deness offer, I suggest lowering your expectations to the level of my friend Jerry.
Darrel and I had a choice. We could walk through the back yard to the beach or head out the front gate. We opted to take the street exit because we thought we could fool Jiggs into thinking we were not leaving him behind.
We turned west on the street in front of the house: Calle Zafiro. The colorful wall is the front of the house.
Just beyond the two vehicles on the street is a beach access road. Like too much of Mexico, access to public beaches has been cut off by houses and hotels. Melaque, fortunately, has retained some access -- an access that we exercised.
We then turned west again to walk up the beach. If you feel a bit disoriented by the reference to walking west on the beach, the beach of Navidad Bay runs on an east-west, rather than a north-south, axis. Our sunsets, thus, most often set over land, rather than into the sea.
The beach around the bay is horse-shoe shaped. Starting at Barra de Navidad, it passes through the three villages that make up this area: Villa Obregon, San Particio, and Melaque.
The Pacific Ocean along this stretch of Mexico is not the Caribbean. No white sand, calm water seas here. The ocean is as untamed as Elzabeth Taylor. I will write more on that later -- about the ocean, that is -- not Elizabeth Taylor. But water that creates sand erosion like this is not a wader's paradise.
I should also point out that our beach is not a stroller's sand beach. The grains are coarse enough that terms such as "slogging" come to mind when walking along the beach -- dry or wet sand.
About half-way down the beach, we decided to return to the house on an inland route. So, we turned north onto the main street I featured yesterday.
We turned east at the first right and took the main beach road back to Villa Obregon.
On the way, we passed the home of a proud PAN supporter:
And then on to the main beach road in my village of Villa Obregon.
And a monument to the hubris of development. This great hole was the start of a condominium project in Villa Obregon. There are reasons why condos are rare in the area. The Hole reminds us of those reasons. But, there is no doubt that the lot has a lovely view.
And we are nearly home. My brother, feeling the need to be home before I could get to the gate, turns south on the beach access road where we began.
We are now back on the street where I live. No trouble picking out the house with the attractive, new paint job.
Maybe Jerry was correct. Snapshots do reflect the mundane. But the mundane is simply the ordinary way we lead our lives.
And part of that routine is that I could share it with you. We should do it again. Soon.
It sounds somewhat quaint to recall that everyday folk would take rolls of films, documenting their lives, to complete strangers for developing and printing. That was the world in the 80s.
He once told me that the job was one of the most boring he had ever had. When he looked at other people's photographs, he realized just how trivial and meaningless life was. I should point out he had a degree in philosophy. Need I add that he styled himself a student of Sartre?
I thought of Jerry today as Darrel and I walked along the Melaque beach. We have both been losing weight on this trip. So, we decided to kick up the process by taking a constitutional.
Several other bloggers have used the conceit of taking a walk to showcase snapshots of their neighborhoods. I am going to join the band wagon.
For those of you who are accustomed to the quality photographs on the sites Bille Mercer, John Woods, and Gary Deness offer, I suggest lowering your expectations to the level of my friend Jerry.
Darrel and I had a choice. We could walk through the back yard to the beach or head out the front gate. We opted to take the street exit because we thought we could fool Jiggs into thinking we were not leaving him behind.
We turned west on the street in front of the house: Calle Zafiro. The colorful wall is the front of the house.
Just beyond the two vehicles on the street is a beach access road. Like too much of Mexico, access to public beaches has been cut off by houses and hotels. Melaque, fortunately, has retained some access -- an access that we exercised.
We then turned west again to walk up the beach. If you feel a bit disoriented by the reference to walking west on the beach, the beach of Navidad Bay runs on an east-west, rather than a north-south, axis. Our sunsets, thus, most often set over land, rather than into the sea.
The beach around the bay is horse-shoe shaped. Starting at Barra de Navidad, it passes through the three villages that make up this area: Villa Obregon, San Particio, and Melaque.
The Pacific Ocean along this stretch of Mexico is not the Caribbean. No white sand, calm water seas here. The ocean is as untamed as Elzabeth Taylor. I will write more on that later -- about the ocean, that is -- not Elizabeth Taylor. But water that creates sand erosion like this is not a wader's paradise.
I should also point out that our beach is not a stroller's sand beach. The grains are coarse enough that terms such as "slogging" come to mind when walking along the beach -- dry or wet sand.
About half-way down the beach, we decided to return to the house on an inland route. So, we turned north onto the main street I featured yesterday.
We turned east at the first right and took the main beach road back to Villa Obregon.
On the way, we passed the home of a proud PAN supporter:
And then on to the main beach road in my village of Villa Obregon.
And a monument to the hubris of development. This great hole was the start of a condominium project in Villa Obregon. There are reasons why condos are rare in the area. The Hole reminds us of those reasons. But, there is no doubt that the lot has a lovely view.
And we are nearly home. My brother, feeling the need to be home before I could get to the gate, turns south on the beach access road where we began.
We are now back on the street where I live. No trouble picking out the house with the attractive, new paint job.
Maybe Jerry was correct. Snapshots do reflect the mundane. But the mundane is simply the ordinary way we lead our lives.
And part of that routine is that I could share it with you. We should do it again. Soon.
