pushing my luck

When I moved to Mexico, I chose the beach because I like to live by the water.  Just near it; not in it.

But I had several friends who love to snorkel and swim.  So, I had this dream of hosting guests while they enjoyed the wetter pleasures of our local beaches.

And pleasures we have.  One of the nicest is beach in front of the little village of Custacomate -- just over the hill from Melaque.  But its beach seems as if it borders on a different ocean.

Navidad Bay is large enough that its beaches present enough faces to please Sybil.  But none of them are as calm and idyllic as Custacomate. 

The waves are almost Caribbean.  The waves near my house pound the sand.  In Cuastacomate, they lap.  Best of all, the beach is usually free of the usual tourist crowd.

For snorkeling, it is next to perfect.  Shallow incline.  Mixtures of sand and rock.  And a small coral reef.

My friends, Lou and Wynn, arranged to my house guest and me at the beach this morning.  I was looking forward to joining them in the water.  But an odd sleepless night and an unusually persistent cough kept me on shore with Lou.

But it was nice just to sit in the shade and watch while the snorkelers have a good time.  Even though the water was cold and the fish were few.  (Probably not a coincidence of circumstances.  On the other hand, the fish may have been in mourning for the bodies of their comrades littering the beach.)

It was a nice last day in Mexico for a couple of weeks.

As I write, it is nearly 11 PM and I still have not done much packing for my flight tomorrow.  So, I best turn my attention from pen to packing.

Next entry -- San Francisco.  Maybe.