Time

is undervalued.

Everyone knows it, of course, but this knowledge generally seems to be utilized disproportionately.

I think I understand it much better as every day passes.

We feel pretty lucky. Every day we’re here, one of us says “wow” and we look at each other knowingly.

Our day goes something like this. Orange Head wakes us up around 8 and one of us walks to the nearby restaurant to order breakfast. About an hour or so later, the other two show up and maybe breakfast is there – maybe not. It’s just eggs, bread, and coffee – but great. They bring an entire pot of coffee.

By 10 or so we are done and return to the van to figure out our day. We go for a walk or play on the beach for a while until the kitchen opens at 1 for lunch. We place an order and hope to get a meal by 2 or 3.

On a  few days we’ve driven into town and tried a few local spots. Ceviche is everywhere and usually very good.

Somewhere in there Angela manages to do a cartwheel (her New Year’s Resolution – one per day) or maybe the local kids come by to play.

Maybe a book gets read, maybe not. At 4, the guys at the restaurant drop everything and play soccer on the beach. I try to score one goal for Team USA and hang back the rest of the game.

There aren’t many people here, but the guests in the rooms rotate every few days, so maybe we play volleyball with the Aussies or chat with the French couple.

By 7, we order up for an even later dinner that is likely ceviche or chicharonnes mixto. They actually make a pretty good arroz chifa too. While we wait, we light a pile of driftwood or just watch the big show in the sky.

We’re 8 days in.

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