On NOT Going to the Beach

Which way do I go?

There are a number of people who seem to be a bit puzzled, and somewhat skeptical, if not out and out suspicious of the fact that Mark and I live at the beach and yet don't go to the beach. The conversations on this subject always take the same form. People start by remarking on how very white we are, and how we must have to take some strong protective measures against the sun when we go to the beach.  Oh, but we don't go to the beach, we say. You don't go to the beach? they ask, aghast. No, we say, We don't. In fact, it was at that point in such a conversation that a fairly aggressive interlocutor said, If you don't go to the beach, you should move to the mountains!

What is going to the beach, anyway? In some ways it could be said that Mark and I go to the beach all the time. After all, we live right on the beach. Our veranda and our terrace look out at the beach, and down in our little park we sit just above beach level. We walk down the beach to go to the various stores and restaurants in the neighborhood. We pick shells off the beach to use in various landscaping projects. And it's not as if the entire town of Búzios is at the beach every single day. Most of the year-round residents are busy working, and are hardly ever seen at the beach (except for those early-morning/late-evening joggers and walkers).






So why do we live here? It's not so hard to fathom. There is something profoundly peaceful in gazing out at the water every day. There is something deeply primal as we listen to and even move with the back and forth of the waves. Come on down, join us in our park, and you'll figure it out in a nanosecond.





Dear readers: I know I've only barely returned to blogging, but after this post I'll be taking another hiatus. We've spent four years together, and I've enjoyed your comments and your loyalty. As we say here in town, See You in Búzios!