From Perpignan we took a short bus down to the beach community of Canet Plage – plage being the snooty-French sounding word, like all French words, as compared to our lousy Beach or the fun, Spanish playa. We spent two days here relaxing at the sight of the many shades of the blue in the Mediterranean sea that stretched it seemed forever into the horizon. The plage was one of the most peaceful beaches I’ve ever spent time on (besides the East of Oahu.. Kaneohe for anyone who knows, you’ll understand). There were few people, nice people, and a large stretch of sand almost 6 km long where everyone could have their personal space.
I love Europe! I went for a walk tonight. First, I sat amidst the dark backdrop of the powerful Mediterranean ocean, with its booming waves pounding the shore in a mess of unpredictable patterns – it was like that poor sea just wanted to go to sleep but couldn’t stop tossing and turning in the sheets. I sat in the sand moistened by the rain a few hours earlier, looked out into that mysterious power that never ceases to amaze me, closed my eyes, and entered into meditation with myself and the intoxicating tune of the tide. Solitude is a precious thing that I don’t get to experience too often – it comes in small portions, is always tampered by distractions, and it only allows me sparing moments to capture the essence. But the solitude by the Sea, this is indescribable. The presence of a power as strong and as big and as mysterious as the Ocean cannot be subsided. The distractions seem to wither away. I feel small. I feel humbled. I feel calm. I feel outside of the control of things, and its nice. After a relaxing and reinvigorating number of minutes I couldn’t count, I continued the stroll down the beach.
I had no direction, but was pleased to see the guiding light when I noticed the local bookstore was still open and, just to my luck, had a section of English novels. After the loss of my highly-interesting book about the Isreali-Arab conflict after only 30 pages read, I was having that yearn for a nice, soothing read to revitalize my imagination and intellect. I found just that, in a novel of four characters who crash into each other literally and historically in Hong Kong.
After the purchase of the book, I turned back towards the hotel, thinking the night had been pleasant and ready for a slumber; yet, I was yet again given a blessing from the strength of the universe – the sound of the Spanish Morena music being played down the street in the center of town. I walked over to a stage set up in the surroundings of the cafes and restaurants with small area in front to dance. The site was beautiful. Couples danced the Mamba, the Pase Double, the Tengo Camisa Negra, the Por Favor Espana, and many more. Two couples in particular were quite impressive, knowing the steps to every type of dance and in sync the whole way. Some couples new some simple steps to some of the dances, and some just had no rhythm and looked ridiculous. But the beauty, the beauty is in their eyes and their smiles and their joy. The music took them back to their romantic twenty’s when they fell in love. They danced flirtatiously. The women felt beautiful. The men couldn’t stop adoring their brides. The little girls couldn’t stop smiling at their daddies. The grandmother’s adoringly looked on snapping photos.
I love Europe! I went for a walk tonight. First, I sat amidst the dark backdrop of the powerful Mediterranean ocean, with its booming waves pounding the shore in a mess of unpredictable patterns – it was like that poor sea just wanted to go to sleep but couldn’t stop tossing and turning in the sheets. I sat in the sand moistened by the rain a few hours earlier, looked out into that mysterious power that never ceases to amaze me, closed my eyes, and entered into meditation with myself and the intoxicating tune of the tide. Solitude is a precious thing that I don’t get to experience too often – it comes in small portions, is always tampered by distractions, and it only allows me sparing moments to capture the essence. But the solitude by the Sea, this is indescribable. The presence of a power as strong and as big and as mysterious as the Ocean cannot be subsided. The distractions seem to wither away. I feel small. I feel humbled. I feel calm. I feel outside of the control of things, and its nice. After a relaxing and reinvigorating number of minutes I couldn’t count, I continued the stroll down the beach.
I had no direction, but was pleased to see the guiding light when I noticed the local bookstore was still open and, just to my luck, had a section of English novels. After the loss of my highly-interesting book about the Isreali-Arab conflict after only 30 pages read, I was having that yearn for a nice, soothing read to revitalize my imagination and intellect. I found just that, in a novel of four characters who crash into each other literally and historically in Hong Kong.
After the purchase of the book, I turned back towards the hotel, thinking the night had been pleasant and ready for a slumber; yet, I was yet again given a blessing from the strength of the universe – the sound of the Spanish Morena music being played down the street in the center of town. I walked over to a stage set up in the surroundings of the cafes and restaurants with small area in front to dance. The site was beautiful. Couples danced the Mamba, the Pase Double, the Tengo Camisa Negra, the Por Favor Espana, and many more. Two couples in particular were quite impressive, knowing the steps to every type of dance and in sync the whole way. Some couples new some simple steps to some of the dances, and some just had no rhythm and looked ridiculous. But the beauty, the beauty is in their eyes and their smiles and their joy. The music took them back to their romantic twenty’s when they fell in love. They danced flirtatiously. The women felt beautiful. The men couldn’t stop adoring their brides. The little girls couldn’t stop smiling at their daddies. The grandmother’s adoringly looked on snapping photos.
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