The Absolute Reason to Have A Motorcycle On Beach

The absolute reason to have a motorcycle on the beach!

This morning, I went with two very good friends, Barry White and Luther Vandross for a walk down the beach.  When you exit my gate, you are facing the ocean, turn left and you are heading South on the beach in Crucita.  That is where we are going. South.  After I pass the fishing boats, a wide beach awaits me.  The tide is out, the sky is still tinted with the shades of early morning and the slow roll of the waves beckons me to get going.  This is when Barry starts to sing in my ear.  Now I don’t care if I ever stop walking, heck I may just go on to Salinas.  I don’t know about anyone else, but when Barry growls in my ear my step quickens, right ladies?  I’m thinking of the many loves I've had along the way and the love that is still at home in bed because he is retired.  UGH.  This end off the beach is beautiful!  When the tide is out you can see what we call the lava fields.  I don’t know if they are lava or just plain ordinary rock but they are stupendous.  I scan the whole area thinking I will see an elusive mermaid sitting on a rock or Moby Dick floating by.  Who know what lurks under and around those rocks.  As I am happily stepping out with my friends, up behind me comes a group, it is comprised of most every age of human you can think of.  Some jog by, some fly by, and some I know wish they had Barry singing in their ear.  When I finally reach the fliers ( those show offs) they are doing lunges on the beach. I’m sure they think they are giving encouragement to those of us that do not lunge and fly.  Now please tell me, what makes them think, seeing them do lunges and still breathing, makes us like them.  I guess they are too young to understand, this is a retirement beach and we don’t do fast.  Little show offs.  I just smile and pick up my step, I’ll show them.  I hope they don’t notice my damp brow and gasping breaths. Lunges my a**.  With no going back I continue on, I’m sure I look smashing in my Lane Bryant black one piece Miraclesuit.  Miraclesuites’ hold everything in place so they say tell me.  I am back in stride and here comes another hurdle.  This beauty walks past sporting a white bikini with flowing mane and beautiful smile.  It’ so hard to hate her, but a little trip into the sand may not hurt either.  Ugh.   I decide to walk further down the beach and around the corner of this cliff.  Starting here you lose view of the condos and other life forms on the beach, thank goodness.   I am picking them up and putting them down, as I watch the crabs scurry across the way and the sea gulls scanning the surf for a quick snack.  I keep my head down eyeing the rocks for some treasure.  Surely one day I will find an artifact or better yet a hunk of gold to show sleeping beauty when I get back.  When I round the last corner I spot something in the water.  Now being youthful once I have a pretty good idea what is in the water. The motorcycle carried them far away from the prying eyes of the beach walkers, fliers and lungers.  But… they didn't go far enough that Barry and Luther could not find them.   Now we are both embarrassed and it’s like ok what now?  I’m too old to run, lunging didn't look like an option so I pretend I don’t see them and they pretend they don’t see me.  I don’t know, but I think the moment was lost.  I guess I could have loaned them my friends Barry & Luther, but what the heck, I do have an ornery streak in me so I smile and turn back to the North.  It makes me wish my love was here instead of in bed.  I now have a new respect for motorcycle tracks down the lonely stretch of beach.  You know one of my dear friends Marlene, always tells me to wear sunglasses.  “If you have sunglasses on nobody knows if you are looking at them or not.” Crap why didn’t I listen to her, I wish I had them on now.  Fighting the urge to laugh I take the boys and we head home, past the lungers, joggers, fliers, and that darn girl in the white bikini.  Oh to be young again!

Cover Yourself Up

I have read so many posts and questions about whether to ship your stuff, buy new stuff, borrow stuff or hope someone moves back to the States and maybe you can buy their stuff. 

Now, if you’re going to buy the Expat stuff you have to be really fast and smart. 

To give you an idea, I found a perfect stackable washer and dryer in white.  It was being sold by an Expat. Now, being an Expat myself, I know we like good stuff, right?  I drove the poor guy crazy with questions; however I forgot to ask where he lived.  Well, those pesky folks in Cuenca think everybody knows they live in Cuenca.  I think everyone lives on the coast.  Guess where he was.  After apologizing profusely for being an idiot…. I’m still looking.  You get the idea. 

So rule 1. : find out where they live and save both of you a lot of grief.

I’m now going to coach you on packing for your trip. Now, your idea of packing for the trip and your better half’s idea of packing are not the same, I’m pretty sure.  I use the term better half loosely in this case!  Well, this old girl had done her homework.  I had read about yucky paper thin scratchy towels, or the towels that are so expensive you purchase only the wash cloth.  Then you use it to dry yourself and your esposo after a day at the beach. Folks think I’m thrifty for purchasing the wash cloth.

I read over and over about sheets that get these little ball things all over ‘em, baking soda and clothes for fluffy girls.

After weeks of preparation, the time has come to reach a consensus on the size of the suitcases, color of the suitcases, do we purchase the ones with the 360 wheels or the ones with the wheels that just go one direction.  Hum, maybe not a suitcase at all, I have it, PLASTIC CONTAINERS!  But wait, cardboard boxes are cheaper and the husband gets to use duct tape.   Oh my, what is a soon to be Expat to do? 

Well we get suitcases, because better half, I think, may think, he can use them when he runs back to the States.  Well I have news for him, HE AIN'T RUNNEN!  I have sold almost all of my goodies, bought Rosetta Stone, learned to count in Spanish, said good bye to dear friends, hugged the kids, and cried.  Oh yes, I could have also paid for another college education for what it is costing me to bring the youngest four legged child.  HE AIN'T LEAVEN!  Besides, who wants to hear your friends say “I didn't think you would make it” HE AIN'T LEAVEN!

Ok, back to the suitcases.  We have now spent almost as much on suitcases as airline tickets. BUT my suitcases are spectacular.   They are as big as box cars and the wheels go round and round.  Now the BIG DECISION is what to bring in these dazzling containers.  Containers that are now going to hold everything we need till our big big suitcase, also known as “The container” arrives from the States.  You see, if you ship your stuff, you are obligated to stick it out just like in marriage for better or for worse, because these are all the goodies you have left.  On the inventory list is long sleeved shirts, jeans, coats and such. Better Half is sure we will need them on the coast. I have now made the required number of trips to Walmart to purchase stuff for the prized suitcases.  We now own Space bags in every configuration and size. I have been to Macy’s to purchase divine sheets in abundance.  Who knows what can happen with new sheets. Promises promises, a girl has to do what a girl has to do to get new sheets in abundance.  I have ordered on-line, wonderful new undies and braziers, sounds like I’m coming along, because I know, fluffy girl cloths are not easy to come by in Ecuador.

Cute cloths, check, towels, check, sheets, check, jammies, check, old beat up housecoat that I love, check, Advil, check, cute new blanket to go with sheets, check, new make- up, check and a few things for Gary.  No really, he can put anything in his gigantic bunker on wheels that he so desires.  Now that we have checked and double checked the list, I put all my lovely goodies into the coveted space bags and suck the life out of them.  Checked, sucked and tucked into the safety of the suitcase.  Then, not so better half carts them off to be weighed.  OH MY, one seems to be a bit heavy.  He rips open the suitcase and shoves my lovelies down a little more, like that’s going to make the suitcase weigh less.  I can tell you, if that worked I’d let him shove me around.  Zip and back on the scales.  Still to heavy so HE has the nerve to remove my housecoat.  “You don’t need this.”  Excuse me!  Let’s take out some of you junk.  Nope it’s the loved old housecoat that is making the suitcase heavy.  So,

here we stand in the lobby of Publix in Florida, suitcase ripped open, my nice new Walmart Space bag has been violated and he has my robe ready to be discarded.  After countless stares he crushes the items into submission and my old pink housecoat is not at the finish line.  So here I arrive in Ecuador with my cute undies and braziers and nothing to cover up with.

Have you ever wondered what now?  What if there’s a fire and I have to run for my life?  I have always followed the Grandmother rule. Wear clean underwear.  If you have a wreck you never want to die in dirty underwear but a plane crash was never mentioned.

Well, over a year later we are living happily in Ecuador. I still don’t have my old pink robe. It’s sitting in a parking lot waiting to be claimed.  Our big big suitcase arrived from the States and to this day I have never had a clean underwear scare.