on the beach

I am not a beach person.

Well, I am -- and I am not.

I get no pleasure walking on the sand or stretching out on a towel in the sun or venturing forth into the surf. I think the last time my foot touched sand was on a walk with Barco Rubio -- and he died three years ago.

If those were the sole criteria for being a beach person, I would be just as happy living in Morelia. But I enjoy living here by the Pacific.

Like so many other activities in my life, I am a watcher. Books. Plays. Art galleries. Films. Surveying the lines of the house with no name. They all have one thing in common: watching. And analyzing.

And that is the type of beach person I am. I find contentment sitting in the shade next to the beach while watching familes indulge in pleasures that escape me.

For that reason, I have not been bothered by the beach closure order that went into effect just before the Semana Santa crowds could arrive. We have been in shutdown mode ever since.

When the beaches closed, so did the beach restaurants. Or, at least, most of them did. There were rogue operators here and there. But, for the main part, my usual eating spots were not in the business of serving up what I like most -- the view from their decks.

Last week, a few of the shoreline restaurants opened under restricted conditions. It was a good excuse for getting out of my kitchen. I like my cooking, but it has been too much of a good thing. With the exception of a fine serving of chicken tikka masala dropped off by a friend, I have been religiously following my no-dish-that-I-have-eaten-before regime.

My first foray was to El Manglito for camerones de Steve -- breaded shrimp with salsa diabla on the side.* I wanted to get in a few extra steps before I sat down to eat, so I decided to walk to the end of the malecon.

But that was not going to happen.

It was closed with a row of garbage cans. Not very efficient, but certainly clear. If there was any doubt as to the status of the malecon, a bilingual sign removed them.

Even though I am not a beach walker, I am a malecon walker. All of a sudden, the beach closure went from being business to being personal -- to use Mafia jargon.

I suppose it made sense. There is a greater possibility that groups will crowd together on the malecon (for photographs with Barra's tacky town sign and to watch the sun set) than they would on the beach.

My walks on the malecon are just the opposite. I try to avoid crowds impeding my progress.

There are rumors circulating that the beaches will be opened in early June -- possibly as early as Monday -- with a "no tourist buses" provision. If that idea is more than a rumor, it lacks as much reason as it does authenticity.

There was a period when these little villages were the haunts of bus-borne Mexican tourists. And the buses are still an important component in the tourist trade.

But times have changed. About five years ago, I noticed a marked increase in middle-class Mexican tourism. Late-model SUVs would arrive in town and disgorge parents with their 2.1 children -- all dressed in designer-label clothes, just like middle-class families throughout the world.

If the beach closure order is lifted, those families are going to be tempted to get out of their houses and come to the beach just as any other sane person would. And there will now be hotels and restaurants open to cater to their needs.

As for me, I will just be happy to have the malecon open. It adds almost 800 steps to my walk -- and it lets me pretend that I am walking on the beach.

Just like a beach person.



* -- The day before yesterday, I ate wiener schnitzel at Simona's on the laguna in Barra de Navidad. Real veal. It made me miss a good plate of veal piccata that much more. How can restaurants who claim to be Italian not serve a staple like veal piccata?