There’s something about stepping into a body of warm, salty water that makes a day worth living for.
Though this Caribbean-side beach is little more than a narrow strip fronting the occasional “hotel,” abandoned property, or humble homestead, I take immense pleasure from having walked its 6 km stretch to a miniature waterfall-pond that marked the end of its briny trail.
There doesn’t seem to be a lot of swimming done here by the locals. Actually, none that I’ve seen. But that’s a common product of taking environment for granted, no matter where you are in the world. It’s easy to formulate the thought, “Fuck, if I lived here, I’d be in the water everyday.” But I’m just a visitor, and if I grew up here, I’d probably be just as apathetic of this glorious gift as anyone else trying to scratch a living in town.