My beach post yesterday took me back to my first year living in Melaque.
I lived exactly as I thought a retiree in Mexico should live. Right on the beach.
Each morning I would sit on the veranda watching whatever performance the sea conjured up for me. It seemed beautiful.
But, as there always is with beauty, there was a cost. I lived with a constant film of brine on everything. The floors. The dining room table. The bed. Me. It had all the aesthetic joy of living in a constant drizzle of olive oil.
The result, as I had predicted, was quick death to my electronic equipment. The office door was a funnel for corrosion.
But -- there was the beauty.
I walked by the house on Friday afternoon. That is it at the top of the post. If you look at my entries for 2009, you will see what my life looked like back then.
I looked up and down the beach at what was my cultural stage that first year. And it struck me. The house. The beach. The view. It was a desert. Very little could grow because of the brine. And there was nothing but miles and miles of sand.
I lived exactly as I thought a retiree in Mexico should live. Right on the beach.
Each morning I would sit on the veranda watching whatever performance the sea conjured up for me. It seemed beautiful.
But, as there always is with beauty, there was a cost. I lived with a constant film of brine on everything. The floors. The dining room table. The bed. Me. It had all the aesthetic joy of living in a constant drizzle of olive oil.
The result, as I had predicted, was quick death to my electronic equipment. The office door was a funnel for corrosion.
But -- there was the beauty.
I walked by the house on Friday afternoon. That is it at the top of the post. If you look at my entries for 2009, you will see what my life looked like back then.
I looked up and down the beach at what was my cultural stage that first year. And it struck me. The house. The beach. The view. It was a desert. Very little could grow because of the brine. And there was nothing but miles and miles of sand.
It reminded me of Dubai -- without any of the redeeming qualities of Freudian architecture. When I visited Dubai in May, I was amazed to discover that the place was humid. Running from 80% to 90% during the year.
Of course, it made sense. It is a trade city situated on the shores of the Persian Gulf. I never thought about deserts having high humidity.
But that is exactly what Melaque feels -- and looks -- like. Especially during the summer when it is not raining.
For the past three years, I have traded the desert beach for what seems like a jungle. Verdant. Cool. Shady. A perfect nook for an aspiring writer. Just four blocks from the beach.
And I still have a water view. It may not be as noisy and unruly as the Pacific. But it is a perfect match with my little jungle.
And with me.
Of course, it made sense. It is a trade city situated on the shores of the Persian Gulf. I never thought about deserts having high humidity.
But that is exactly what Melaque feels -- and looks -- like. Especially during the summer when it is not raining.
For the past three years, I have traded the desert beach for what seems like a jungle. Verdant. Cool. Shady. A perfect nook for an aspiring writer. Just four blocks from the beach.
And I still have a water view. It may not be as noisy and unruly as the Pacific. But it is a perfect match with my little jungle.
And with me.
17 comments:
I once lived directly on the coast in Puerto Rico. Loved it. Of course, I had no electronic gear in the early 1970s. Life was simple and sweet.
I miss staying right on the ocean when on vacation. It's very soothing.
I always think of myself that way/ Simple and sweet.
Where I once expected horses, I will now anticipate camels.
That would be a mirage.
Can you hear the ocean surf?
Yes. But the surf in Melaque is of the crashing variety rather than the soothing swoosh type. It often sounds like a combination of car crashes and drive-by shootings. The beach shakes so much, I missed two earthquakes while living in the first house. I rather liked it.
To each his own. I can't imagine being in Melaque and not being able to see the ocean. I guess because I come from Houston originally with humidity, I don't feel the "olive oil" thing you're talking about. I just love the constant breeze and the slam of the ocean on the walls of sand. It actually shakes the bungalow at times. No mosquitoes, no bugs - the breeze keeps them at bay!
Miss it - can't wait til January and February.....
Oye! Steve.
I have lived near the coast, but never on the coast. Your experience is a good reason to continue to keep my distance.
People react differently to the ocean. I love the Oregon coast, but I may have had my fill of Mexico beach living. On the other hand, I am notorious for changing my mind.
I phase in and out about living on the beach. Between my garden and the beach, the garden currently wins hands down. Especially with the easy crocodile access.
...crashes... shootings...totally bewildered by that comparison. LOL
Wait. I changed my mind about beach life. I could live Maine coast or Cape Code in Massachusetts for the summer months, then drop on down to Costa Rica's Central Valley for the winter months. Of course, I need a few million dollars set aside for that kind of life.
I think I would prefer the second abode as well. It looks beautiful.
Sign me up, as well.
And cool.
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