I walked my malecon this morning.... like I do most mornings these days. Up early, at "sparrow fart" (a term I learned years ago from a British colleague). Up even before daylight (which always arrives in a rush and catches the unawares who aren't ready for the brilliant sunshine pouring over the eastern mountain top), and a quick brush of teeth, splash of cold water to the face, and a leap into clothes set out the night before... and off I go. It's usually about 0630 hrs. when I'm leaving the boat.
I'm always surprised at the number of marina fellows, and others hoping for work, I pass as I wend my way up the dock, through the locked gates, past the office (door always open as I think the new manager practically sleeps at his desk, intent on being ready for anything), through the parking lot, past the security guard, and out through the gates. And to each one, or each small group, I offer up a "Buenos Dias" and receive the same in response along with a brilliant smile.
This "malecon" I speak of is the extended and improved sidewalk, running along the shoreline of La Paz. It runs for miles and passes by Marina Palmira on its way out of town to the furthest-most marinas and resorts. At 0630 this morning the world was a soft pink and baby blue... for real. The pavement glowed pink in response to the morning clouds....softly pink against a pale blue sky. The sea, flat like a mirror, was both pink and baby blue in its reflection of both clouds and sky. The scene was magical and made me darn glad to be alive. It also put a spring in my step as I set off along my malecon.
I call it "my" malecon... but really, I share it with many souls. Folks like me... enjoying a quiet time with our thoughts, or time shared with a like-minded walking mate, at the start of a new day. Some folks I pass (or who pass me) are new, but many are regulars and... like old friends (or at least acquaintances) who share an interest in common, we greet each other as we pass. Most of the people I see at my early hour are Mexican; a few are North American... all are pleasant. Some stick in my mind and I watch for them each morning.
There are three dog walkers who stroll my route. One, a large gruff kind of fellow, has two dogs... always off leash... one younger male, and one older female... both of unknown origin. Neither particularly care that I am there.. they go by me like a full bus. But, there are two others I look forward to seeing. One gentleman, older than me, walks two puppies... always on leash, always way more interested in everything around them than in behaving on leash, but soft and gentle in their approach and always interested to see me. I don't stop to speak with them as I don't want to interrupt their rather dubious training session. And then there's my favourite, a gorgeous pair of young afghans, one golden in colour (and a happy-to-see-me boisterous girl) and the other Black and Tan (a very refined and shy young male who hangs back and eyes me timidly... I'm still working on him). Their owner is very nice and he slows and lets me have a short visit... and then we all carry on our way.
I walk about three kilometres round trip and during that time pass many I recognize. Some are couples enjoying their walk and chat, others are business colleagues having a walking meeting, and many are individuals walking or jogging in their own little world (as created by pieces of electrical equipment stuffed in their ears). Oh, and there's the fellow on a bicycle with spread-apart handle bars. he rides into town each morning and I can hear him coming long before I see him. He wears a transistor radio tied around his neck with a string and he plays it as loud as possible... and it's always bright and cheerful Mexican music. How could I object? The music makes me want to dance while I walk.
To all these folks I say "Buenos Dias" and they reply in kind. What a great way to start each day... with the natural beauty supplied by Mother Nature and the warm greetings supplied by complete strangers.
I wish you all a good day... and warm greetings from total strangers, where ever you go. Adios. CJ
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