|Sunset behind, moonrise ahead|
While she watched Mandy boogey board, Mandy's daughter Ava and I gathered shells along the beach for Sarah. Many were broken, pulverised by the storm surged waves and high tides which have removed the sand from Main Beach and have largely replaced it with smooth rocks up to fist size. Despite this, we managed to find shells of differing shapes and colours and quantities to make a reasonable collection. Ava lovingly washed and sorted them and stored them in a bag for me to take to the post office. What a sweetie.
Back to the balcony for lunch.
Sue and I went for a walk into the village during the afternoon and coffee at one of the haunts. I was left soon after, Sue and Mandy having most important business to attend to which included wax and dye and eyebrows. Some mysteries are best left ravelled.
I wandered the shops, stopping several times to chat with proprietors. The most enjoyable of these chats was with Nicole at Corindelo Arts & Crafts. Her and her husband were originally from Toowoomba, where they operated a locksmiths business but both had a desire for another life, in another place. Nicole is an artist who has ventured into wheel thrown pottery in the last few years and Rob likes working with wood. The bench top of the service counter in the shop is a highly polished single piece of irregularly shaped wood which speaks loudly of Rob's talent. Their shop is an eclectic mix of items, some tourist, some artistic but its the back galleries which drew me in, with their collection of paintings and ceramics. They are still in the early stages of their arts journey, which is far less important than the fact they are heading out.
From the shopping centre I walked to the breakwall and then climbed the stairs to the lighthouse and headland beneath. Its always a breathtaking view. Then it was home past the Pacific Hotel, down to Main Beach and along the platform in the late afternoon to discover a multitude of recreational users. A couple in their thirties combed rock pools with their young kids, pointing out creatures and colours to their excited students. Fishermen cast long rods to lazy fish. A reverse generation gap had been set up by coincidence on adjacent rocks. A women in her late forties sat reading from a laptop, making sporadic satisfied entries followed by hand to mouth laughing as though it was illegal to enjoy yourself in such a setting. Not far away sat a boy in his late teens, ensconced in a paperback. Both were no more than three metres from an ocean which pounded the rock platform in its tireless desire to tear it down. Juxtaposition has probably never been so sweetly exampled.
|Senioritis and margaritas|
Returning to the flat, I was informed I would be left alone for sunset drinks at the Pacific Hotel. Sue hand stood me up for margaritas at the cantina. Pity. It was probably the best reverse sunset I have seen, accompanied as it was by a full moon, the rolling surf and the fishing fleet heading out to sea. I wrote bitter poetry for those I know trapped by the cruelty of others and drank one too many reds but all in a good cause.
Unification over meatballs, then we retired to Rose's flat for the evening patter.