Like a picture torn from a page in a Hemingway novel, I stood silent staring at the old fisherman as he mended his nets, two men lay in hammocks nearby, their weathered faces telling stories of long days at sea, lessons not yet told and tales of the one that got away. I wanted to take it all in. It was time to go home. I needed one more time to feel the salt air on my face, one more time to hear the roosters crowing, telling us it was time again to feel the sand between our toes, time to walk in the rain, and one more time to come alive in the present moment. I wanted to see it all once again, the smiling faces of villagers on my stroll along the beach, vultures guarding the spoils of the day's catch, I wanted to see it one more time. Goodbye my sweet Maracas Bay. Hasta la vista, Ted and Debbie, the Valencia River was breathtaking and the curry duck was fantastic. Au revoir, Merv, the fish soup was awesome! Arrivederci, Angela, the new curtains above the kitchen sink made the sunlight dance like fireflies on the wall, it was magical. Auf wiedersehen, Mona, the bake and shark was the best on the beach (I tried them all. Lol). Sayonara, Pooki, the beach chairs and umbrella were a big surprise. A hui hou, Peaches and Celia, the smoked herring and saltfish bulljoy sandwiches were delicious. Behina huni, Mr. Rasta Man, our great teacher, thanks for reminding us that love was the only souvenir we needed from this trip - and may your heart be always open and your days be eternally blessed.
Friends forever, Chris and Steve