We awoke to find a group of chickens and white-flecked black fowl scratching and squawking in the dust below our hammocks. We had a breakfast of huevos rancheros (ranch eggs) and beans before setting off for the beach at 09:00 hrs. before the sun got too strong.
Huge gaily coloured butterflies fluttered about, and pigs and goats grazed in the grass by the local football cum basketball pitch. We had a refreshing swim and did some body surfing outside the Pelicano Beach Café where we sank a couple of Coca Colas before returning for a morning siesta.
At 13:30 hrs. we braved the heat of the sun to walk to the vegetarian café again. The view was magnificent from the cool, dark cave-like interior but it was very quiet. We listened to Bob Marley as we demolished yet more Coca Cola and then headed back through the naked bathers and sun worshippers on the beach.
Back at Suzanna’s we buggered about until Eric appeared and suggested that we returned to the far end of the beach for a vegetarian supper. We’d previously spent a pleasant hour swinging in our hammocks chatting to an Australian girl who had come up north from Argentina.
We walked along the beach as the sun was setting, and the surf crashed and tumbled up the beach. I was reminded of the philosophical story about a little wave, bobbing along in the ocean, having a grand old time. He's enjoying the wind and the fresh air-until he notices the other waves in front of him, crashing against the shore. "My God, this is terrible," the wave says. "Look what's going to happen to me!"
Then along comes another wave. It sees the first wave, looking grim, and it says to him, "Why do you look so sad?"
The first wave says, "You don't understand! We're all going to crash! All of us waves are going to be nothing! Isn't it terrible?"
The second wave says, "No, you don't understand. You're not a wave, you're part of the ocean.”
Tiny crabs scurried for cover as we passed. We arrived at the vegetarian café and had a good meal called “bohdi” which was a combination of rice, vegetables and cheese al horno (baked). It was very quiet in the dimly lit interior. Sade sang from the sound system. Sade, byname of Helen Folasade Adu, is a Nigerian-born British singer known for her sophisticated blend of soul, funk, jazz, and Afro-Cuban rhythms who enjoyed wide critical acclaim and popularity at this time.
We walked back under a sky flooded with stars, passing nervous night promenaders. Back at base we tucked away another couple of “Corona” beers each and a smoke in Erics room before setting out to the local “disco”.
About 20 Americans and Europeans drank at tables outside and empty room with flashing lights and blaring rock music. The Disc Jockey hunched over his tape deck with his headphones on like a desperate radio operator in a war film frantically twiddling his knobs to make contact. Or perhaps he thought he was Robin Williams in “Good Morning, Vietnam”!
The “Bohemia” lager was strong, and we walked back singing "Chanson D'Amour" ("Song of Love") for a late supper of chunky vegetable soup before retiring at 22:30 hrs.
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