We've been on a lot of beaches around the world, but this beach, Rekawa Beach, is probably the most beautiful, and it's also entirely empty of people. There is no trashy evidence of people either; the only litter on the beach is ocean litter -- shells, plants, weeds. After breakfast this morning we took a final walk along the beach and tried very hard to record it in our hearts, to take an experience Polaroid of it, to bookmark it in our memories in a way photographs themselves can't quite capture: the power of the surf pounding the sand and felt in our chests and feet, the sweet smells in the air, the feeling of the air on our skin.
After the beach, we went out once again on the old bicycles, bouncing on rocky patches of dirt road and trying to avoid the big red muddy rain puddles left from last night's storms. Again we pass people, some we are beginning to recognize -- ah, we saw him yesterday! There she is again! -- and all smile and speak to us.
We'll be leaving at 2pm for Galle, a two-hour taxi ride more or less. Galle is a historic old city with a big fort, and it'll be as different from Rekawa Beach and Tangalle as we can imagine anything being. We're trying to adjust our minds so we encounter it with anticipation rather than just being "not Tangalle," and I'm looking forward to finding Galle's charms, to enjoying more delicious Sri Lankan food. We still have Hatton, in the tea hills, and Kandy ahead of us after Galle, so much more of Sri Lanka to see.
|morning beach, elementally quiet but symphonic|
|the morning sun cutting through the clouds|
|Marc explaining something to me|
|cold green ocean waves|
|hunting for shells...|
|....and finding them, orange like Sri Lanka|
December 1 already, what a strange thing. Last December 1 my life was little but wreckage, and here, one turn around the sun, I am in this beautiful place with Marc, having a wonderful time, and awaiting the birth of my grandson. Life is long and strange and wonderful.