Les Chaises Longues

This morning Elena declared that she wanted to go to the beach. Charlie and I took our time getting up and about, had leftover mole for breakfast, and then we all headed out. Tony and Elena had been shown a staff-only paved pathway between some of the buildings that she could use to take her wheelchair to the beach. Where the resort met the beach there were several palapas with chaises longues beneath them, adjacent to a small bar with wooden swings (in place of stools) suspended from the awning. Elena's wheelchair could not operate on sand and when we got there, the only reclining chairs in the shade were a little ways away from the pavement. A staff managers stood nearby and noticed that we were considering our options. He told us, “We will take her anywhere she wants to go.” We pointed out a seat and he called over three other young men to help him. They lifted Elena in her wheelchair and set her down next to the beach chair she would occupy for the better part of the afternoon.

The rest of us installed ourselves next to her and read, relaxed, or people-watched. We noticed a little boy wearing a Seattle Seahawks jersey and discussed how we couldn’t escape football even here. There had even been signs around the resort advertising upcoming football games and we had seen some Americans watching a college game on the big TV in the lounge. The beach was pretty quiet, and fortunately the wind had died down so the temperature was great. Charlie and I took another walk along the shore so that he could smoke cigar, and then rejoined Tony and Elena under the palapas.

Waiters came by periodically to see if we needed anything to eat or drink. We eventually ordered some very good fish ceviche, a couple plates of French fries, and chiles rellenos. Nearby three aspiring Adonises stood around displaying their fairly cut but wispy thin bodies. The most jacked of them wore one of those itty bitty speedo-type bathing suits that doesn’t look good on anyone. They were all tanned beyond was what was prudent and were clearly trying to impress each other and anyone else who might be watching. The skinniest of them even went as far as doing some half-assed push-ups in the sand. The only woman among them wore a thong bikini and had very large, very fake breasts. It was like an episode of Baywatch.

After lunch Charlie and I decided to go swimming in the pool. Charlie really wanted to swim in the ocean but there were signs prohibiting this due to the large sharp rocks hidden beneath the waves just a little ways out. The waves themselves were also pretty imposing. Despite the prohibition, there was a lifeguard on duty, although he spent most of the afternoon crouched in the shade behind his lifeguard stand, facing away from the water. We found a place to swim in a fairly deserted corner of the large pool. The resort's website had advertised it as a heated pool, but it was pretty damn cold and took some getting used to. The sun began to sink in the sky and the palm trees partially shaded this section of the pool. We didn’t last long before we were too cold to swim and decided to get out. As we walked toward the pool steps, I noticed a mother and her young son and daughter sitting under a poolside umbrella. A pair of red Crocs was slowly floating away from them in the water. The girl, who looked maybe four years-old, noticed us and pointed at the shoes expectantly but didn’t say anything. She might not have been sure whether we spoke her language. “Did you lose your shoes?” I asked her in Spanish. She pointed at her slightly older brother, “They’re his! They fell off!” I brought her the shoes and their mother thanked me.

Charlie and I found a couple chaises longues in the sun and decided to lie there awhile to let the water evaporate off of us. It wasn’t long before we felt that we were baking, so we went up to our room. Tony and Elena had just gotten there as well. They reported that people had been riding loud dune buggies on the beach so it was no longer peaceful and quiet.

That evening Charlie cooked marinated chicken and sautéed potatoes. He had been making due quite well with his pocketknife, two cooking pots, and two weak burners. At one point he happened to look out the big window in our sitting room and reported that the bellboys were racing each other down a paved hill on the luggage carts. After dinner he and I went out to sit by the pool again so that he could have a cigar. I was trying to read The Martian, but every time we sat down to read together we ended up talking so I didn't get very far.