At one time, here in Guanacaste, Costa Rica, a ponga was the way to go on the water. It was all you needed. One oar would do, if that was all you had. Get on the water and cast your lines. Fish were over abundant here. The coastline left behind, in a world of speed. Fast people living fast lives, simply were not here.
Now, the boats, people and construction is moving at a pace, equivalent of the sound breaking barrier aircraft of my youth. I lived in the country. Cecil Airfield was down the road. I would be sitting by the pool and here a boom. An aircraft breaking the sound barrier. I paid no attention. Why should I?
Today as I type, the boom here is evident. My sleepy village is alive. It’s a snake swallowing its tail.
Fish Eye Farm 