Palm trees

Last night we sat around under a makeshift gazebo on the beach and drank rum and lukewarm beers while playing cards and speaking in a pidgeon soup of French, Spanish, and English. I keep meeting so many good people on this journey and the three of us ran into an older couple from Paris who are great. We played 24 all night until the rum was gone and the sound of the waves was putting me to sleep.

I woke before dawn and walked the surf line like a shore bird letting the sandy waves swish between my toes and lap up my legs. I couldn't sleep. It was too hot and the tent I rented reeked of old sweat and stale air. Its much better drifting in the waves looking up at the spindly ragamuffin figures of palms leering over my head like truffula trees straight out of Dr. Seuss.

So I finally found my beach grove to lay my head under.