Skyving a little

Admittedly, have not been writing as much as I had before, but with good reason: travel, good food, long walks and a dear new person in my life has made me a little bit more pensive.



Here is a bit of a report of last weekend:

I buggered off with my friend, Mariam to Punta and Cap Cana (as we affectionately called them by the end of the trip “the Villages” complete with Village people impersonations).


It was... beautiful with and ethereal edge. The vines of puffy “grape flowers” as I call them hung from the trellises, illuminated at night by a thousand fairy lights, like overhead sprites to oversee our next excursion into rapture by yet another perfectly executed meal, funny anecdote, bursts of laughter jumping from our throats and ringing through the perfect square.


The beaches spread like micro universes across the shore, containing our world for mere hours, but nonetheless enclosing it; filling our ears with waves, wind, our eyes with sight of water and foam, and bathing our skin with warm sunlight, all the while the dutiful guardians of the beaches, the palms, keeping a watchful eye on us alien creatures encroaching on their universe, pulling a few hours of joy and relaxation from Neptune.

The Juanillo beach was the most calming of the three (the two others being Playa Blanca and Caletón), an expanse of soft pastel, truly great work from the creator: marrying pinks, purples, soft blues with the pale gold of the supple, plush sand. Accompanied by the best mojito I’ve had in a long time, an unexpected rain shower that reduced all the patrons of the newly opened beach bar in a fit of wet giggles and a good pizza composed of mozzarella, parmesan and arugula. Food was pushed onto our plates, drinks poured into our glasses, for the merry festivities celebrating their aperture. I witnessed an explosion of fireworks over a liquid, starry sky, with the wave of knowing there was nowhere else as magnificent on earth at that very moment than where I was standing.

Caletón was another wonder of calm, but sharper than the former. Framed by reddish volcanic rock, forming a perfectly hostile contrast against the deep beauty of the jewel-coloured waves. This rocky frame was the emmental of the beach: covered in holes that would whistle at every crash of liquid sea envoy, spiky and unwelcoming by nature, beauty taming it into yet another component of this coastal masterpiece. As I was slipping through its waves, I looked at the sky and thanked all the sea and land gods for permitting me this vision into their utopia.

Finally, Playa Blanca was the exciting finish of all this beach time. Wind surfers swam through the sky, the feet walking on the waves, the breeze taking their now-light bodies away into a more heavenly plane than their usual earthly station. The horizons were endless, plane and stretching until the end of the world, until the drop off. The waters were that crystal clear colour of the Caribbean sea: the most striking incarnation of blue and green, as they should be seen. Warm and crystalline, the water leached over our floating bodies as we stared at the cloudless sky, both of us feeling like mermaids, our hair floating underneath us in an imitation of a sea creature, all tendrils and swaying by the gentle coaxing of the sea nymphs.

Finally, these 4 and a half days were like a deep inhale of cold crisp air after being kept down in warm water for too long. I am refreshed and back to my sparkling, ebullient self.