Black Sand

The sand covering the beach of the area where Alej's grandmother took us to was covered in black sand, the product of years of volcanic rock erosion. The drive there took two hours, past sugar cane fields mid-harvest ('tis the season) and waterparks. The last hour of the drive was spent swerving back and forth on a road so riddled with potholes that it was impossible to take a nap. But it was worth it. We ended up at a parking lot, where we disembarked only to haul our belongings onto a old wooden motor boat that took us to the other side of a river. We were then on an island (or peninsula). We walked to the other side of the little land mass to discover beautiful palm trees and the salty breeze that you only find near the ocean.

The first thing we did was change in to our bathing suits.

The second was head down to the beach for a late lunch at a fish shack on the sand. Best fried fish I have ever had, caught the previous day or that morning, coated in unidentifiable spices and fried in oil served with papas fritas (french fries) and cold Coca-Cola in glass bottles. The left-overs were fed to the stray dogs and pigs that roamed the beach.

After lunch we headed to the beach. The water was warm from the tropic weather that you can only find at similar latitudes. Alej and I spent hours in the water; past the time where our digits got prune-y. We talked about mermaids, swimming, anything, as the waves broke over us. The sun set just before we hit the beach. But our day wasn't over yet.

We hit the pool for a hour or so, only emerging for a scrambled eggs dinner. Then showers, a walk down the beach with our feet in the water, Popsicles made with blended fresh fruit, and a sit-down around the pool tables. We were exhausted by the time our heads hit the pillows in our hotel room.

The day started much in the same way. Back to the beach for another hour in the sea before breakfast at the fish place, back to beach, the pool, more fried fish and papas fritas torn apart and eaten with our hands, back to the beach to wash greasy hands in the salty water and swim. Then it was time to leave.

Black sand is hotter than regular sea. Not because it's volcanic, but because of the color which absorbs more heat. In the mid-day, if you weren't wearing sandals, you were running as fast as your feet would take you to the next shadow.

We showered of the sand from uncomfortable places on our bodies, packed up the room, had a last popsicle,   took the boat over to the mainland, and got back in the car. At first only Alej's 6-year-old cousin was able to sleep on the pot-hole ridden road, but by the time we pulled up at her grandmother's house after dark I had fallen fast asleep. Lots of beach and sun and fish and running on the beach and talk of mermaids will do that to you.