canoa stroll

canoa: long, lazy days strolling the playa, writing, reading, letting the sun fill up my body ´til my skin might burst with it, watching tom win (and tastic lose, flamboyantly) the hour of power, watching a million sea snails trace op-art squiggles underneath the wet sand, sharing unas de la grande bestia with fabio at el pais libre, watching myself relax.

canoa: warm. sandy. excellent. and populated by an exclusive club of intrepid gringa hunters, local surf boys sporting creamy bronzed skin, musical talent, buttcrack, dreads, generalized poverty, and a bottomless thirst for olas, chicas y cervezas, not necessarily in that order. observed hunting success rate = considerable. isn´t it funny how surf towns are similar the world over?

i paraglided!!!!! these are totally my feet. and that´s the pacific ocean. i love dangerous activities that require trust, but no actual skill on my part.

the dude flying in the yellow wing (below me, natch) is jason, owner of the surf shak. he is probably stoned. from what i could tell, just about everyone in canoa is at least somewhat stoned most of the time.

and this is what they eat: pescado al aljillo (and the similar camarones al aljillo) at saboreame. delicious, even sober.