Full Moon On the road again
The full moon is up and joining me as I head south and then east to the last little town, Yavaros, before the ocean begins. I am so pleased with myself. I have stopped and asked for directions several times and people have understood my halting Spanish.
First I ask a coke truck driver, who I figure is a good bet and he is. But I get lost in the next little city and have to ask again. I ask 2 different random guys in trucks. The last guy actually has me follow him a ways and then pulls over at an intersection and shows me exactly how to go on.
The sun is setting, the skies gorgeous reds and blacks, and the full moon is shining in all her glory. It is later than I want it to be as I drive into this last town before la playa. By the time I get here, it is full dark, except for the sunset in the far west, yet the people are all walking in the streets, hanging out in front of yards, storefronts, sidewalks.
I have to drive slowly, carefully so I don’t hit anyone or any beast. Dogs are plentiful in this town too.
It is beautiful, warm, serene. The road goes thru the whole town and from what I can see, maybe a couple of factories at the end of town. I can not see very well, except by the light of the moon and the very last reds and blacks of the sunset fading way out over the ocean. The road ends and becomes dirt.
There is a bus parked on the side before the asphalt road ends, and a few feet down, still on the asphalt, an old pick up truck.
I go off the asphalt, hoping I am on solid ground and not sand and pull over. The place is just so beautiful, with the water gently lapping the shore and the moon high in the nite sky.
Someone has built a little straw roof ‘hut’ with no walls on the beach. A couple of people are sitting there on benches that have broken, watching the last rays of the sunset disappear.
We great each other, Buenas Noches, as they leave. I hope they are not leaving because I have parked here. I can hear people, most likely from the little truck I have passed, playing the guitar and singing.
I pull out my red stool and sit on the sidewalk watching the ocean, the moon, the night falling down around us. I think I can hear sea lions or seals barking in the far distance. It is damp from the ocean but warm. The tide is out. I wish I had gotten here earlier so I could take a walk in the ocean.
I am so hungry, I return to the camper and cook a huge pot of rice, throw in a sweet potato and a couple of eggs, then pile on the red pepper, yeast, garlic, flaxseed oil, and lime – and I have a feast that I eat outside on my red stool! A stray dog comes over to beg unsuccessfully for a bite, although I will share with 2 legged creatures.
I am also suddenly exhausted. I close my door, leave the dishes for tomorrow and get ready for bed. All nite long, I hear mostly male voices, and the occasional accompanying car, sometimes singing loudly on the beach with a guitar, sometimes playing loud music from their car. I console myself, knowing the car battery cannot last long.
On and off all night, I hear people reading the truck in Spanish but I cannot stay awake long enough to try to understand what else they are saying.
I am too tired to be polite and greet anyone. And too shy. I will apologize profusely in the morning, if anyone cares, and hope that works.