Good Morning Amigos,
I don't know if there is any sight more captivating than that of the first beams of light from the east streaming over the Nayar Mountains illuminating the waves of water and morning air over Matanchen Bay. In the tropics the day begins like the hand of Jupiter flipping on the bathroom light - right now, strong and with a force like fingers of brightness, ready or not, leaving you wondering where did the evening go. That's how it was for me that first morning waking up on the beach in Santa Cruz. A little disoriented I walked to the oceans edge barefoot and refreshed. Looking across the water I saw a river of golden light break over Mt. Tepitatica and pull the darkness away from a gentle spur of hilltops in the near distance like a child pulling the blankets off her bed first thing in the morning. The jungle blue green of night became the emerald green of the ocean cliff sides of a tiny pueblo. My soul's sermon. My landing pad, my home base, my toil, my hopes and dreams, tears, heartbreak and future children's laughter revealed naked there before me. I remember lifting my open hand flat, palms up and framing this living photo upon my mind for posterity.
A fisherman nearby pulling in his nets, the smell of the morning catch. I asked "what is the name of the village?" "Aticama", he said.