Last night or early this morning the skies over Manzanillo ruptured. Before daylight the sound of rain pelting the tile roof and windows was deafening. Thunder rattled the building and flashes of lightning lit the entire apartment. A short while after all of us were awake and talking in the kitchen, a brilliant flash of lightning, accompanied instantaneously by a bone-jarring clap of thunder punctuated the message being delivered by the weather…this is powerful stuff, so don’t bother going outdoors.
Despite the message and my assumption the day would be wet and dark, the rain soon stopped and the day brightened a bit beneath a dull grey sky. We decided to take a walk along the beach, which we did. My brother and his wife walked a bit, then left us to wander alone. We walked a mile and a half up the beach, my wife skirting the water and me slogging through the wash of waves as they pounded the beach. Before long, though, her tennis shoes were soaked; I had taken off my flip-flops and was happily barefoot in the surf. My enthusiasm for the waves got the better of me from time to time; waves surged toward me faster than I expected and higher than expected, soaking my walking shorts with sand and salt water.
By the time we got back to the apartment, the weather was clearing so we decided to drive past Barre de Navidad to La Manzanilla, a tiny coastal village a few miles up the beach. We had lunch at Jolanda’s, a primitive little open-air restaurant on the beach. It being off-season, there were few people on the streets, fewer still non-Mexicans. This restaurant was no exception. The only people there were the owners, a husband and wife team who moved to La Manzanilla ten years ago after a two year stint motor-biking through Asia. I think they are from Belgium. The menu was a mixed bag of Asian, European, and Mexican fare; not particularly good, but adequate. We sat under the palapa watching people in canoes and kayaks cavort in the surf. There were fishermen, too, both with nets and with poles, after their day’s catch. Of more interest to me were the pelicans drifting silently over the waves, then diving at high speed into the surf to catch their lunch.
From La Manzanilla we drove a little ways to Melaque, another coastal town. We drove around the village, just to have a look, before making our way back. Melaque is a larger village than the others and not as attractive, in my view. After a quick stop in Barra de Navidad to get 3000 pesos from the ATM to replenish our dwindling cash supply, we’re back. Soon, we’ll talk about what to do for dinner on this day, my brother’s birthday.
Photos may follow in hours, days, or weeks.