Oceans don't make it easy to get a hug. The beach seduces you into walking forward, looking at the tiny ripples on the edge of the dry sand. Then you look up and see the breakers. The waves just beyond the little ripples crash on to the shore and then suck the sand out from under your feet, tipping you over. Walk another few feet, and another comber flies at you. If you try to take it full front on, you'll lose and your reward will be a nosefull of salt water. If you try to get into a wave full back on, it will dump you on your face.
The best way to get into the ocean's healing arms, is to slide in sideways, letting the water wa
sh on either side of you. Each building wave comes higher up your body, but as long as you stay standing sideways, you will penetrate the foam and breaking crests and then suddenly the chaos is over and you can give yourself up to the floating, rocking reward that is salt water.

We floated, joined by a hand and an ankle, light and relaxed, until we were pruny.
The only way to find the best local beaches is to have bourbon with a local. Mark took care of this duty one night at the Hotel Plineo. They didn't have any bourbon at the bar so they called into town to have some deliver
ed. After the guy on the scooter got there with the bourbon, Mark and his new friend started talking in earnest.
The local told Mark about a beach called Playa Rey, and drew him a map, going over the directions with him time and time again to be sure we wouldn't get lost.
My wise husband decided we needed to do a scouting mission before we actually provisioned ourselves for a few hours at this private beach. The first mistake we made was to think there would be an actual "sign" on the lamp post indicating the turn. After all,
that's what the guy said, turn right at the lamp post sign. Through some quick deductive reasoning, we found the turn and the alleged sign.

After we bashed our kidneys to pieces and became airborne, we finally did come to the most beautiful, unpopulated beach. Miles of break

We went back to town, loaded up on beer, towels, papaya, chips, beer, water, ice, beer, books, beer and this time flew down the rutted path to paradise. Well, maybe we didn't fly, but it was much faster this time.