I sat on the beach this afternoon alone. When I say alone, I mean alone. As in not-a-single-person-in- sight-as-far-as-the-eye-can-see-in-every-direction alone.
The beautiful 24 unit condo building Cynthia and I are staying in has twenty three empty units right now. The pool, the grill, the hammocks, hell, even the beach is all ours.
Is something wrong? Hardly. We're in Punta Blanca, an exclusive enclave on Ecuador's Pacific coast where successful residents of Guayaquil (1 1/2 hours away) have second homes for weekends and holidays. When we arrived on Sunday in the midst of a big national celebration kids were in the pool, cabanas were set up on the beach, and parties went late into the night.
Now everyone but us has gone back to their lives and we've got the joint to ourselves. With IL conferences, a busy social life in Cuenca, and visits with our family in the U.S. we're around other people a lot. So it's been revelatory, renewing, and surprisingly relaxing to just hang out with each other and our thoughts. No agenda, no plans.
Oh, there's plenty to do nearby. Salinas, Ecuador's most developed resort area, is a half an hour south and Montanita, the coast's renowned surfer party town, is the same distance to the north. Since we're here for about ten days we'll undoubtedly get out and about at some point, but so far a trip to the nearby supermarket has been our entire itinerary.
Sitting on the beach with my eyes closed, I felt the wind on my face and the soft sand beneath my feet--smelled the salt air-- listened to the crashing waves and an occasional sea bird overhead. I felt myself enter a meditative state without the need to repeat a mantra.
Being there was enough. Being here now is enough.