To get to this ~
The concert hall at the Sydney Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 9,800 times in 2013. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 4 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.
There were just a few locals in the water.
Encountering others, out on the trail of their happy destiny.
It was a picture perfect day. I documented with my Olympus TG-2. These are not perfect pictures. But I had fun. And there’s nothing wrong with that.
*I’ve been reluctant to write, because of my concerns about the internet. In my life, I trudge the road to my happy destiny. Trudge meaning to walk with purpose. I felt I had to slow down, so I did.
This is our Nica Waves surf guide. I have never had the privilege to hire a surf escort. And I consider it my good luck to have met this guy / gentleman. Not only for his local surf knowledge, but he’s just fun to be around.
If you told him, I’m normally a quiet and somewhat introverted person-he would never believe you. I have talked and talked and talked. It’s been a good experience to be around someone who’s lived some of the places that I have and has a similar background.
Boogie lives the surf lifestyle. I know that implies many things to different people, but to me, it means he loves the ocean, the waves, and the people involved in surfing.
Bradley was engaged in a cultural conversation, with the local/Bahamian car park caretaker. This was something I had to get used to, a long time ago, in Costa Rica. But I learned to accept it. And, I know that he is an extreme asset. He helps to keep down any petty thievery on the beach.
As I listened to this man answer Bradley’s questions, I pictured him, in one of those orange work vests, that identify the guards in Costa Rican, packed parking lots. That would be tragic!
I am so impressed with how this area has changed. On one hand it’s changed a lot. There’s more people, but it seems to be just enough. The same goes for accommodations in the area. With the exception of one crazy house, the idea of mansions to the sky, hasn’t happened here. Not yet.
And we’ll be home soon.
When I look back on my days, of traveling through Central America, with my coffee pot and boxes of raisin bran, I experience a deep feeling of gratitude, because those days are what led to this.
At my age, you start to see the end. (I don’t say that to be morbid.) But once you cross the 50 year line, your perspective shifts.
I look through the lens and I get a glimpse of the world through Bradley’s eyes.
He can’t see what I see.
He’s not suppose to.
I’ve wanted this salad w/crab cake, since the day I wrote the post,Man vs. Nature, about the dune restoration going on at Slider’s Restaurant, on Amelia Island.
Cason was playing. It is her birthday. This woman is quite the performer, as well as surfer. She has a Southern, jazzy repertoire, that blends with the atmosphere. I can easily visualize her, singing her songs at the Grand Ole Opry, or having the lights shining down from above, capturing her stage persona, on the televised show Austin City Limits.The sea oats, planted by George, the owner, are coming up nicely. I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt, that he did this in the best interest of the dunes. Yes, it was shocking to me to see the machinery in the dunes, after all that I have been taught about the ecology. But new oats have been planted, and in conveying his story to me, he seemed sincere. He has no intention of adding more tables or putting in a pool. Time will tell. In the mean time, I want to enjoy this place that has become such a popular source of entertainment. They certainly have good food and a positive vibe.
Tomorrow, I’m leaving the corner, that has become my world, our world. I’m going to Nicaragua to photograph my friends surfing.
We’ll land in Managua, and then drive to the beach.
As I sat in the middle of this decadence, I allowed myself to enjoy it. Even though, in the back of my mind, the poverty that I will soon encounter, loomed.
*I am locking her down now. The next time I write, I will be in a new neighborhood. I’ll be on someone else’s corner, in their world, our world.
However, my first recollection of its use was to fuel a fire; whether to give the burning wood air, to keep the flame ablaze, or throwing on another log. Stoke meant expending energy to keep things going. In this case, fire.
Pre-Columbia, our island’s first known inhabitants were the Timicuan Indians. In the above picture, you see the fire tenders, in the center of the compound. Their job was imperative, as the fire was necessary for their survival.
In the forefront, a dugout canoe is being hand crafted. Being on the water, was another essential part of life.
On Amelia, many years have passed, since the Indians walked their paths, to the sea.
But the trail has not been left cold. Continue reading “Stoke!”
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Too many reincarnations in a single lifetime to trust this one.