white, squeaky sand
I got to see a new part of the world this last weekend.
I went to Pensacola with James and his family. Even though I’ve lived in the South for about four years now, I still hadn’t seen the white sand and the clear water of the Gulf of Mexico. It was very lovely, but made me realize that most beaches are just the same. For some reason I was expecting some radical difference from the dirty LA beaches, with brown sand, and trash filled waves that leave yellow foam after they crash on the shore. To me, these beaches were just another version of those beaches. The water in Pensacola definitely wasn’t as dirty, though. And I got to see little fish dart every which way as I went over and under the waves that definitely weren’t as big as the ones at home.
A view from the pier we walked on as the sun set in Pensacola.
I think the scariest waves I’ve seen were probably in Chile. I remember those waves like picked up boys — boys my age with muscle and weight — and threw them down. I dove into one and had a wardrobe malfunction who nobody saw but a girlfriend of mine, thankfully.
Also– in Pensacola — the sand squeaked. That was a little trippy.
Tomorrow is the fourth of July! Last year I celebrated it outside of the USA. This year, I’ll just be celebrating it in a different part of the country than I have before! That’s always fun.
