Sea and Sand

After writing the previous blog I went to the beach. The day was a popular mid-December holiday here, and by mid morning it was bright and sunny after weeks of rain. At this time of the year when the sun comes out it means instant heat. There were many holiday makers around as the December holidays are in full swing.

I managed to park, finally, where I could get down to the sea accessing a path which runs down the side of a large hotel and I walked behind a group of teenagers on their way to the beach. Some of the boys and girls were holding hands. All were carrying bags or surf boards or both and they looked very young. I walked within their ranks but was invisible.

Everywhere I looked were people together. I am at a stage now where my solitary state feels natural. I found a bench to sit on after buying something cool to drink, and sat down with my little dog Bella at my feet. The sea was at low tide. Scores of people were in the water between two life saver's beacons and could easily reach a sand bank, on which they could stand, ankle deep. Beyond them were large frothing waves but the sand bank tamed the water to a degree.

I sat there for some time. The beach below me was filled with sun bathers, umbrellas, couples, familes, young children. I live in a holiday mecca. It is known as "South Africa's premier holiday resort." A brick path kilometers long winds it way above a beach past hotels, time shares, blocks of flats. The sea is always lively, waves crash and hiss. At Christmas time a million visitors arrive. The brick path teems with walkers, joggers, sun worshippers and people selling sun glasses, hats, wooden African craft, beadwork, or baskets. The path is lined with semi tropical vegetation and has an unforgettable smell of warm, wet wood. Once I saw a snake rush from one side to the other and disappear in seconds. F and I used to walk that walk, often.

But now I am invisible, apart from Bella. She is a small but chunky dog of a beautiful strawberry blonde colour and has lustrous dark brown eyes. Her long coat has recently been shaved short apart from her pale blonde pantaloons; she is half Daschund and half Pomeranian - the latter revealed when she smiles, literally, baring little front teeth and fixing one with an expression of utter happiness. She is an essentially feminine dog with great character and loves to be out and about.

Today she trots happily on her lead and pauses with me at intervals, just to stand and stare; I cannot get enough of the crashing sea below, or even of the tumult of humanity on the hot sand, but as I make my way back up the hill to my car I am glad to leave it all and head for my cool house, its peace and quiet. I can only take a small amount of exuberance at a time.