everyone was on the beach this morning.
men, women, kids, dogs, drunks, photographers. a pregnant lady, a painter with an easel, a boy with a bike. couples, singles, grey beards, no beards, birds, crabs crawling in and out of hand made homes in the sand.
the beach was bustling.
people learning to surf, so proud when they finally stood up, a smile from ear to ear. towels were being lain gently, so as not to be covered with sand too soon – somewhat delaying the inevitable. sunblock smeared on the white bodies of tourists so easily picked from the locals. some wandering, some talking, some floating in the ocean. all happy to be near the ocean on an island. in paradise.
am i a tourist? no. i’d like to think of myself as a traveller. i am experiencing maui in a different way, on a different level. as an adopted local. it’s nice to observe from a different angle. as a tourist, you don’t get much from any place your in, except a hole in your wallet, an extra few kilograms on your tummy and a bazillion photos with no memory of why you absolutely needed to get that shot. as a traveller, you immerse yourself. find a reason for everything. realise things are different. but appreciate it all.
so as i walked along the beach this morning, i watched and learned and saw how (i’m sure) i would be at some points in my life. a tourist. even if not on holiday. simply coasting through life. day to day. mundane. usual. uninteresting. breathing, not living. not taking the time to stop to listen not just hear, and see not just look. and taste and smell and touch. and fall absolutely head over heels in love with everything around you.