“Winter’s Love” – Animal Collective

Three flights and a boat ride away from your world.

It all sort of melts away the moment you step off the panga. Everything stops to matter the moment your feet hit the sand.

No roads, no cars. Electricity only in the afternoon. Its a long way from anywhere.  Just a little spit of land off the Central American coast.

A few days here and sandals start to feel restrictive.

You rise with the sun every morning. Step out of the casita into a warm breeze and wander barefoot up and down the beaches, spooking flocks of ruddy turnstones as you look for tailers. Frigates and terns soar overhead as you step into the warm Atlantic.  Sighted opportunities are few but you get into a few bonefish here and there.

The rest of the day is spent snorkelling out to the reefs, exploring secluded beaches, strolling through jungle paths, hunting down ceviche or tossing back nica libres at ramshackle establishments with strangers. With no internet, and plentiful rum, conversation comes easy and strangers quickly turn into friends.

Nothing is hurried. Nobody is rushed.

Hours pass slowly here on this remote Carribean island. Each day blends into the other. This morning feels like yesterday, yesterday seems like a week ago, and right now feels only like right now.

You get a notion to wander up to the other end of the island and ask around about tarpon but its tough to leave the hammock. So you just bask in the warmth and watch the empty toña bottles pile up, a book in hand and the sound of the surf crashing below.

Just like one of the numerous stray dogs that populate the island, you end up sleepy and content to just be.