Rain or Shine

The heavens part for us today, leaving traces of angelic clouds drifting along the Pacific Ocean.  The sun beams down on my golden sticky skin as we race to the longest left break in the world.  The 4 wheeler's rubber tires, rolling and caressing every rock and tree shrub it passes.  We know we only have a few hours of sunlight before the ceremonial washing comes so Michael gently leans to and fro with his body on every turn and uphill to move us along.  Hummus and fresh cucumber smother our palette as we enjoy the Israeli owned Café de la suerte, known for their first class vegetarian menu catered to a surfer’s appetite.  Posing as though we will paddle out shortly after our appetites are satisfied, I cling onto the rails of the quad as we head for the surf.  Michael is captivated by the sets rolling in, yet my eyes are fixated on the three palm trees bunched together swaying to the rhythm of the sea, rays penetrating through the leaves I find the perfect composition.  Click, click, click, as the shutter opens and closes my finger eagerly searching for its next victim to capture.  “Why are coconuts hairy, I ask my love?” His mind is elsewhere as the two local surfers paddle in to catch the almost too perfect waves rolling in.  “Can I try?” Seldom do I hear the voice of my other to use the camera let alone his preference for the 70-300mm lens.  He must capture every inch of that wave breaking in the next 30 seconds, hopeful the surfer will paddle hard enough to ride the generous wave, gapping across the sea.  A sigh of relief, it is accomplished for them both.  Anxious to journey forward to the unfamiliar, I soak up the sweetness of a bite of watermelon and we head off reunited with the road again.  Rickety, rusted, beach worn bikes pass us one by one.  Young, old, curious adolescents all fill our vision but the distraction of passion fruit trails behind and before us as we pass an infused pink and white flower trailing along the roadside.  With my head thrown back and a smile on my face I am filled with inspiration to write.  My moment of ecstasy was interrupted by the same voice earlier, “should we go up this.”  Of course the estrogen gets to me, we could cause a malfunction in the quad that we are borrowing, but before I could actually verbalize concern, Michaels leaning 90 degrees over on the quad leaving me a view of his black board short covered butt.  “Move forward Dove, and hold on!”  I am swept away by this mans heart that resembles a boy at times, and I think to myself this is why I married this man.  His sense of curiosity and excitement always lead us down some slippery wet road or up some steep sloping mountain!  But there is always some magnificent view.  Crossing creeks and gaping waterfalls we can see surfer’s paradise from a whole new perspective.  Inhaling the juxtaposition of the jungle and sea around us, we soon realize the heavens are closing and the once angelic clouds have transformed into a grey dark force of rain coming our way.  “Let’s go fast, so we can make it down this steep slope.”  That is reassuring; as I reach for my green rain jacket slightly disappointed we did not get our big debut as surfers today.  Rain or shine, we are running, swimming, riding a quad or motorcycle or reading a book.  The clock strikes 3pm and by 3:05pm Michael’s bright blue shirt is dripping droplets of the heavens around us.  He looks back at me with a childlike grin and I embrace him tightly as I think to myself I love life with this man.  The fresh rain brings a heightened sense of passion fruit in the air as we race back on the 4 wheeler.  We dodge potholes full of muddy water, at times unable to maneuver around them backfiring on our hands or feet if we are unlucky sometimes our face.  Clumps of dirt and streaky mud cover our shins, we are thankful for our Teva’s and Choco’s today as they have with stood the 4 wheelers inability to protect us.  Pilon is about a block long fishing town with three or four houses that sell the fresh catch from the day.  Eager to sauté the days catch in garlic, olive oil, and limejuice, Michael asks, “Senor tiene pescado.”  He replies, “solo char.”  Char is a common fish used in ceviche a traditional dish of fish, cilantro, onions, tomatoes & limejuice.  My face display’s a slight disgust but we both look at each other and shrug our shoulders, “Si, senor quieremos un kilo.”  The young man growing up catching and preparing fish, skillfully in seconds handed us a bag of char that soon would be swept away into our bellies.  The warm sun began to soak our bodies again as we road off into the breaking sun peaking through the clouds.  Hints of purple, orange, and pink engulfed our being, as our hearts were full of thanksgiving for today’s blessings.