Morning Rituals

The sun is just moments away from cresting the horizon. Its sky is clear, blue and orange, the water a deep silvery cobalt. Turning my head I look the other direction to see the full, luscious moon descending, a bright creamy lantern in a pale purple sky. Mornings always start with a walk down the road about ½ mile, Robert, Rowdy and me. But this a.m. Robert is out fishing for halibut in the surf out in front of the house.  I can see him wading out from my vantage point up on the road. A pod of about 10 dolphins is making their way toward him, following the coastline and Rowdy is crisscrossing back and forth in front of me in happy abandon. (He sleeps on our doorstep so as not to miss this morning ritual.) He sees a coyote crossing the road and takes off in pursuit. “Go coyote, go!” I think. I don’t want Rowdy to catch him, even though he is the bigger of the two. I’d rather it be a good run with each eventually going his own way, tired and unscathed.

This is how each day usually begins here, with a walk down the dirt road on the way out, 2 bags in hand; one for picking up any trash might have been brought in with the tide or night time partyers, and one for possible treasures on the beach on the return trip. I wish the trash bag was not so full, but unfortunately it often is, especially on weekend nights. The kids park along the water’s edge, drink beer and do what kids do. Heck I did it too, but I don’t think I tossed my trash out the window. Just a different way of seeing things here, sadly. And though I do see the consciousness changing, the wheels seem to grind a little slowly, that’s all. One day….

La Beliza sits about a mile or two about out of the town proper, and we’re all off the grid. We have no electricity or running water services. You must be self-sufficient. So everyone has solar systems and water tanks (called tenacos) to fill. You drive into the town desalinization plant and fill a tenaco on a trailer, then pump it to another one once back. It may seem a bit extreme, but surprisingly, it becomes routine quite quickly. And if that is the price for this view, it’s alright by me. Hey, I have a refrigerator now, no more ice chest! I am living up town! (And an oven!) That’s more than I can say for many living in town where there is electricity and they deliver the water to you.

It’s mostly ex-pats here – ‘tourist hill’ I think they call it in town. It’s dotted with a conglomeration of houses and trailers and palapas, in all varying combinations. Most of these places are only used a small part of the year; some haven’t seen an occupant for quite some time and a few seem downright distasteful to me. At the moment our neighbor Ed and ourselves are the only permanent residents. He’s been here 6-7 years now full time. We are 2 week long-termers. I am just beginning to get a feel for the people. They come and go and it seems like I am always hearing a story about someone.  Word travels fast around here and nothing is a secret. It’ll be interesting to experience small town-ness after my whole life in San Diego.

By now the sun is up and the day is warming quickly. Time to sweep the patio, a never ending task repeated often during the day. The wind is a part of life here. (Hay much viento hoy!) And the dust - or polvo, as it is called - is another blog all unto itself. There's trash to burn and a house to tidy.

On to the chores.....