Yola en PLaya Buyé

The planet has extraordinary power. Mother Earth is a benevolent and healing force. Any place that opens us up to notice her and commune with her, floods us with a calm, restorative and intoxicating energy. 

At Playa Buyé I take off my hardworking flip flops and let my soles meet the sand. My toes dive in as my nostrils fill with a salty breeze. Stunned, my eyes drink in the beautiful colors of the sea in front of me. The blue, the turquoise, and the teal. The squeals of children and BBQ smoke. Happy stray dogs dodge the flying paddle balls. Everything is wonder. 

We don't stop. We trudge through shallow water past the sand castles collapsing to the right. We go past the quebrada into the thicket of trees. The trail is shared by ants, stinkbugs and bits of retired barbed wire. Then we break out into the sand of the cove, a narrow path between anchor lines and beach towels. 

Still we don't stop.

The straps of the cooler bag dig deep into the shoulders as we climb over the mangled mangrove roots, to the place we do not go beyond. Past here is too sacred. Some things must be left alone. Right here is perfect. 

There is no room for a towel. The thick clumps of portia roots reach right to the edge of the water. The heart-shaped leaves twinkle as we find space to drape T-shirts over tree branches. I sit on my folding chair while she splashes her feet into the crystal clear sea. 

More boats pull in. The usual cacophany of competing song choices mingles with the sound of the gentle waves. A tiny traditional yola, the "Desafío", pulls in in front of us. The owner anchors his boat and strips down to his bathing trunks. Then he leaps away for a few hours. 

We mix pineapple juice with passion fruit to complete the setting. 

This is a perfect day at Playa Buyé.