About birds, sea and fishermen. Pacific coast of Mexico.

We’re the boys of the ocean. Our first steps were on the sand, as well as our first dates. We came here those days when we skipped school and when we felt sad or angry. We ran countless times into those foamy waves and countless times we were thrown back to the sand. We learnt to swim here and caught our first fish. We feel more confident on surfboards than on a bike. You are asking, what sea means to us? It’s just there, always. Couldn’t imagine it any other way.


I know you ponder if I catch anything. Let me tell you, it doesn’t really matter! I see your surprised face, how come, you ask? Am I here not for the fish? Do you see it all around? Give a second look! Those green hills dissolving in the sun, those waves emerging as if from nowhere when approaching the coast, horizon changing color every hour of the day. The fish is just an extra. Ah, you’ve heard about the fishing competition. Yes, it’s many of us here now. But it’s all just for the beauty, I tell you. The beauty and the calm.


You are asking me why I attack them? Why I don’t leave them in peace, fishing their precious fish? Ha, I see you don’t know a thing. I’m sure they are here as much for me as for the fish. Especially those ones. Those that deem themselves strong, courageous and up for adventure at any time. They are waiting for that moment I touch them with all the little drops of mine, when I dissolve like shower around their strong shoulders and obscure their view to any direction. It makes them hunch and shake but leaves them trembling with excitement. Ask them! Why would I lie? I’m just a wave.


You wanna know if I’m afraid? What of? You say, the surf could catch me, grab me back to the sea and even crash me back to those rocks? And I’d be dead and gone. Nah, you misunderstand. I love the sea and she loves me back. As simple as that. She comes to the coast and engulfs me in her wide embrace. Nothing scary about that! Or at least I see it that way.


Ha, he thinks he can fight me with his spear! What a joke! I’m big and tough, most powerful of them all. I’m the Ocean. I just wonder why they call me pacific. I’m not so peaceful at all. I roll to the coast in that powerful swell and if the hurricane happens to ride my back, I can be most terrifying and destructive. But that’s just occasionally, most of the time I’m quite good natured. But that spear! What a joke!


I wonder what’s on the other side of the ocean. My teachers told me it’s Japan. Hm, really? Maybe it’s behind that dark blue line I see at the horizon. It must be somewhere there. Perhaps, if I stared long enough, I could get a glimpse of it. I wonder how it should look like. Maybe I’ll notice houses with crazy shaped roofs like that Japanese restaurant I’ve seen once in the city. Or maybe a silhouette of a samurai with all the traditional attire will appear behind all that color blue. I guess, I just need to gaze long enough.


Yes, I come from far away. But what is far? Is it another continent, another sea, differently shaped rocks and distinct birds? What’s far for you, may be close for me. For you see, I have wings. The ocean, the mountains, the jungle can’t stop me on my way. Ha, you say you have planes equipped with metal wings to fly so fast and far as I couldn’t even imagine in my dreams! That may well be true, but do you feel the distance with your body, with your own wings, with your own powers? Do you experience the sky, clouds, ocean, rocks and rain with your own feathers?


I’m small and curious. I grew up by the sea, but it still fascinates me a lot. All those loud waves rushing to the coast, just listen! I could just stay here and stare at them. But actually I can’t stay put – they lure me so much. So I dart into this white foamy surf, straight into it until…until it comes rushing after me, then I sprint with all my might back to the coast. After all, I’m just a little bird with thin legs.


– Squawk squawk, look at that tiny one!
– How he’s running!
– Poor thing can’t fly!
– Maybe he does, but why to run when you have wings, tell me!
– Squawk squawk! Look look! The wave is catching him! Oh no!
– He’s got fast legs! He’l be fine!
– He looks so lonely though! Poor thing!
– And we have each other. Squawk squawk!
– How fun is swinging on these waves! What’s the use of rushing!
– Yep, chilling at the Pacific is the best, squawk.


Ah, that chattering crowd! What do they know about the world! Just gossiping and talking one over another. What do they know about the freedom to roam around! To feel free, special, unique. To spread your wings and float on the streams of air. Rise up and slide down, watch the whole world from above. Ach, they look so small, so pitiful. What do they know!


I know you wondered for a second if I’m real or just a boat decoration. Good trick, ha? It’s an easy one. You just need to stay motionless for hours. Easy, ha? What else would you want to do at this peaceful part of the world rather than rest and observe the sunset. Especially, after a hard day of fishing.


I wonder if they realise how beautiful I make them all. I wash away that grey dust that always covers them all. I blend all their incompatible colors. I smoothen all their sharp corners. I join them all into one grand picture. All of them: the vast ocean, swinging waves, chirping birds and restless humans. I fill them all with powerful red tones, shiny orange notes and calming blue. I feel so almighty sometimes. Yet, I’m just a sunset.


I love how I look when the sun goes down. Not that I can see myself, but I can feel it. Though I do sometimes get a glimpse of my own reflection in the mirrory surfaces of my fellow waves. Why do I love it? You know, it’s like having a shiny white dress. It’s beautiful, it catches the eye, but it’s boring in some way, it’s too static. And then, second by second all that whiteness of my foamy robe is filled with pink hues and you can’t move your eyes away. You stand transfixed and admire me. Me, the sunset wave.


I’ve been here longer than I can remember. Thousands of years, maybe hundreds of thousands. And they’ve been smashing into me all that time! Every day, from early morning till late evening and even all through the night. No peace and quietude for an old rock like me. And let me tell you, when I was young I was part of a volcano. Those were the times! Hot and exciting! But such a long long time ago. And those waves attacking me now, do they think they’ll get me?


I was talking to the ocean, birds and fishermen in Chacala, San Pancho, Lo de Marcos and Mazunte.
More of Pacific coast, Mexico, and even a bit of us in my new photo gallery.

Be First to Comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *