Another Day in Paradise

...or so read the real estate ads anyway. Jaco Bay must have been an extraordinary place 30 years ago, though. Imagine living in a place where the sun sets at (almost) the same time every day, and in (almost) the same spot. I would like to set up a permanant camera on the beach, or on a balcony overlooking the beach, anyway, and take one picture at exactly the same time every day all the way through the year, then edit it together to make a short movie. It is rainy season now, so very often you don't actually see the sun on the horizon as clouds tend to move in and settle over the water.

The quality of light tonight was magical, and all of the surfers trying to get in one more wave before it was too dark were lit up with gold and orange highlights. Spectacular!

I went down to the beach tonight to try and clear my head. Far too many things are balancing on a cusp between total success and abject failure. We only need one or two of these things to be successful, but at the moment there is no certainty, so, North American style, I stress and worry and lose sleep.

I paced up and down on the beach for a while, not really taking anything in, but as the sun started to set, and the warm/cool breeze picked up, I actually started to look around. I watched the surfers for a while. (Mostly) young people having fun and enjoying the idea of being alive; I spotted a young couple on a bench, arms wrapped around each other as their children, about 4 and 2, played in the sand in front of them; I saw an older woman and what was probably her daughter, and granddaughter walk along the edge of the water arm in arm.

And then the sun was all the way down and it was time to go. I watched from the bench beside my car as the Dad of the young couple produced a stroller. "Papa's Taxi!" he said to the youngest boy, and he picked him up and gave him a hug before seating him in his stroller, then the Mom put her arm around the four year old and they headed off.

Pura Vida, I thought back to them. And thank you.