post-title My Job is Better Than Yours, Or: Visiting Beaches and Writhing About It

My Job is Better Than Yours, Or: Visiting Beaches and Writhing About It

My Job is Better Than Yours, Or: Visiting Beaches and Writhing About It

A simple plan.

The day began like any other, I walked, I arrived at work. I performed the routine rituals I’ve developed in these few weeks, everything was as any other day, but I was wearing something more comfortable. The plan was already laid out, we were going out to visit different beaches, and I was meant to take notes for the upcoming Los Cabos Magazine.

But the moment I got into the car my expectations shifted. As the new guy in town, for me this was a trip of discovery, it was to see a face of Los Cabos that I hadn’t seen. An opportunity for me to explore the “touristic destination” part of it when I just knew the “I guess this is where I live now” part. But that’s not why I’m in this car, is it?

What am I doing here?

The journey started with Coral Negro Beach a.k.a “La Empacadora” or…

“Some people call it “the beach of the poor””-

That is a sentence that I’ve heard used more than once, usually accompanied by a tone of shame for how prerogative that sounds. It’s almost a warning, adverting you of classism and bigotry that seems to be everywhere hiding at plane sight. But I still have to find someone who calls it that in an unironic way, so far it’s just been a warning, I’m hoping it stays that way.

It’s a beach that I was somewhat eager to see, is probably the beach closest to where I’m staying, I just never bother entering before.

As were entered “La empacadora” my mind was still in conflict, I mean, no one was gonna reprehend me for trying to have a good time on the beach today, but in my mind, that wasn’t the goal, I’m a writer, aren’t I ? at the very least I am now, I came to work. And so I did. I enjoyed myself as much as I could while keeping my head in my notes. Taking everything I could, the air, the sand, the people, and putting it into words. That’s what I came to do.

But Just Look at this!

Ok, that may have sounded a little too dramatic, but the second beach in our journey, The Sheraton Beach, just really spoke to me, I found myself unable to set aside my enjoyment, the air continued to drag the pages on my notebook like trying to stop me from missing a beautiful wave crashing along the shore, and how can I? how can one cast aside this wonderful landscape and focus on a yellow piece of paper? I just can’t, I wrote as much as I could, but I had to trust my heart to remember the rest.

So, that’s it? I’m on a “let’s have some fun and worry about work later” kinda trip?

Well, I’m a writer.

Still weird to say it out loud, but it’s true.

As at sat down at Santa María Beach I found myself a little disappointed, it is a beautiful beach, and I’m told the real beauty of it is beneath the surface of the water, it just didn’t impact me in the same way. Still, I had fun, I enjoyed the view, and I wrote about it. Not because that’s what I came to do, but because that’s what I want to do, to capture my emotion, to be able to share it, to bring emotions with scribbles made in a notebook. To cast a spell by just spelling.

And then came the challenge.

Well, again I’m being overly dramatic for narration’s sake, you saw the photo, this Is Chileno Beach. It’s a pretty nice beach.

Where is the challenge then? Well, Chileno is a pretty nice beach, but not being able to do some of the main activities for time constraints, I just found myself another pile of rocks that looked comfortable enough to sit and take notes. And then what? how many times can you describe Sand? I knew this was the challenge I signed up for, but now it started to feel real. How many “pretty nice beaches” do I have to write about?

But as I was pitting myself for having to visit too many beaches, I started to put attention to different things, the first places we visited were relatively empty, a lonely reunion of myself and the landscape. But this beach had characters, people enjoying their vacation walking past the weird guy taking notes.

I calmed myself knowing what to do.

That’s my job.

The last stop of the day was Las Viudas, another empty place, another lonely reunion, another pretty beach.

This one also spoke to me in a different way. I didn’t seat this time, I couldn’t, even with the kilometers adding up in the complaints of a tired body. I needed to walk on this beach, to explore it.

I took a few notes, again I did it for me, to remind myself of a peaceful moment, to encapsulate a deep breath into a yellow piece of paper.

I’ll write for you as I do for me, I’ll transport us to places of beauty. I’ll speak to your humanity and allow us to stand together in the world of ideas. And if I fail. Y’all will know in your hearts I tried.

After all, that’s my job.




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