After many years of going to La Manz in doses of one week to two months, I’m committing to three months this year. I think that makes me a local, or perhaps an apprentice local. I love this little town on the west coast of Mexico, a few hours below Puerto Vallarta.
The photo prompt this week is “Local.”
There was still more to discover at the beach on Prince Edward Island, including one big surprise. (Different day, different beach.) If you want to read the captions to share the plot of that day, you’ll need to click on the first photo and then follow the arrows.
And now, to answer the questions:
Have you ever owned a rock, pet rock, or gem that is not jewerly?
Yes. I have owned tons of rocks! We used them to make art lamps and I have always loved collecting rocks, including the ones I used to make creches the year before last. I was a jewelry maker before I moved to Mexico and so also had trays of unset gems. You are barking up the right tree with this question, Cee!
What is your greatest strength or weakness?
Chocolate! Guess it qualifies as a weakness. Definitely not a strength.
What makes you feel grounded?
Writing or creating art.
Would you rather never be able to eat warm food or never be able to eat cold food?
I actually prefer most foods cold so would choose to eat cold food over hot. Ice cream!!!
Bonus question: What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?
I was so grateful for time spent with Dianne and Andy, my wonderful hosts on Price Edward Island. now I look forward to eighteen more days spent with Forgottenman as well as other friends and family members. Then I’ll be grateful to go home to see Morrie, Frida and Diego–and hear the tales of my house sitters Ian and Pen, for whom I am also grateful.
https://ceenphotography.com/2016/09/12/share-your-world-2016-week-37/
Like many Canadians who winter in Mexico, Christine Gribbin has learned to seize the best of both worlds. In Montreal, Quebec, she still maintains a busy life is the world of film and fashion, but when the cold winds blow, she retreats to the sleepy village of La Manzanilla 200 kilometers south of Puerto Vallarta on the Jalisco coast. There she resides in the charming upstairs casita of artist Carol Lopez and pursues her own interest in painting.
The influence of the cheerful and easy going life of her landlady and the village at large can be seen echoed in both her art and her countenance. I’ve been meaning to share her world with you for some time, but unfortunately the laid back life of the beach seems to be lost a bit in the more complicated life of interior Mexico, not to mention my trip northwards. But here, at last, is a peek into Christine’s Mexican environs and art. If I had been able to capture a more rounded view of her life there, I would have also photographed her on the dance floor or on the beach, sipping tequila with the regulars at Daniel’s sunset tequila soiree, or listening to music at one of the beachside palapa restaurants; but these views of her aerie and her paintings are what I was able to capture. I hope they will adequately portray this vivacious and talented lady.
(Please note that the sketch of the woman’s face on top of the fridge is by Christine, but the painting behind it is by Carol Lopez. You can see photos of Carol’s studio here.)
I love this photo and I’ve been saving it because it has never quite fit in to any challenge..Then it occurred to me that this is the purpose of the odd-ball challenge! I love it because of everything that is going on. The little boy “shooting” his brother with water ammo, the stance of the little girl, the fishing poles of the fishermen repeating the lines of the water guns and the other swimmers and fisherman in the surf. One thing I love about the beach is that there is always something going on––a fact perfectly represented by this photo.
https://ceenphotography.com/2016/05/15/cees-odd-ball-photo-challenge-2016-week-20/
It was 35 years ago that I first ran away from home to go live at the beach. For the past 15 years, I have never lived more than 4 hours away from the ocean, and for 20 years before that, I was within 20 miles of it. During these years, I have written hundreds of pages of poems and stories about the the beach, and as I sat here for two hours today, reworking what perhaps was one of the first poems I ever wrote as I spent a year going to the beach every day to write, it suddenly occurred to me that I would rather be doing art, using the boxes of material collected on the beach during the two months I spent there this year, than writing about the experience. I’ve already done that, and here is where you can find it: https://judydykstrabrown.com/category/beach-poems/
That URL will get you to the most recent beach poems. (You’ll need to scroll down past this one once you’ve clicked on the URL above.) To see earlier ones, go to the archives (near the bottom of the scroll next to a poem entitled “flip flop”) and select November, 2014 or December, 2014 for older poems.
Please join me in beach combing by taking a walk backwards—as far as you choose to go—through three years of beach poems—reading and looking at what you wish. Some poems you may just walk by or pick up in your hands and then cast away. Others you may examine closely, reading them in their entirety. And some, I hope, you will choose to store away on the shelf of your mind to remind you that you came from the sea and it is always there for you to go back to.
Now, for the rest of the day, I’m going to do what I’ve wanted to do for a month and a half now—unpack some of the boxes of shells, stones, bones, sand, corroded metal, driftwood and assorted beach trash found on the beach as well as uncompleted “found” sculptures begun in January and February. Then, I’ll “do” for a day instead of writing about it.
Please enjoy your beach combing today as I’ll enjoy mine.
Double Snap!
“Clap hands,” they said, “Clap hands
to the music,” and we all obeyed
that 50’s and 60’s band
that we might have followed anywhere–
out the door and across the street into the ocean
like geriatric children following a Pied Piper.
As we had when the music was new,
we gyrated and sweated,
bumped hips, jitterbugged,
did swing and wild improvisation
at Palapa Joe’s.
Joe himself barefoot at the keyboard,
a bookend to Denise at the drums.
And we? We are as hot
as this February night.
“Oh to be young again” is not in anyone’s vocabulary,
for we are teenagers again below the Tropic of Cancer.
In the ocean or in front of it,
sipping the sunset from tiny cobalt glasses,
watching children move toy trucks down sandy roads
of their imagination
and teenagers elfin in the surf.
The sun falling falling farther northwards every day
until that March day we waited for every year when it sank
directly behind the offshore island.
Snap. It is gone.
Double snap. So are we.
Here’s more of a photo story about Palapa Joe’s if you are interested:
https://judydykstrabrown.com/2016/02/28/last-open-mike-of-the-season-at-palapa-joes/
The NaPoWriMo prompt was “double” and the WordPress prompt was “snap” so I combined them today…Here are links to those prompt sites in case you want to play along:
http://www.napowrimo.net/day-fifteen-2/
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/snap/
I took all of these photos while snorkeling in the coral cove at Tenacatita Beach on the Jalisco, Mexico coast.
(Click on Photos to enlarge)
http://jennifernicholewells.com/2016/04/01/color-your-world-sea-green/
Duke and Daisy accompanied us to Tenacatita. After the rains and high winds we’ve been having, it was too choppy to snorkel, so we all roamed the beach. I picked up three bags of coral and shells from the beach and totally sliced open one water shoe. But, how could I be blue? I left that to the ocean.
(Click on first picture to enlarge photos, then on arrows to view all photos. After viewing, click on X at upper left to return to this page.)
http://jennifernicholewells.com/2016/03/09/color-your-world-pacific-blue/
If my bedroom were to open onto the beach side of my rental, this would be my early morning scene:
(Click on first picture, then on arrows to enlarge photos and view. When you’ve viewed all four pictures, click on X on upper left of your screen to return to my posting)
The only sounds I would hear? Gulls, the wash of waves on the shore, Bobino’s mute plea to be fed. But, in fact, my bedroom window which must be kept open for circulation, faces onto the street and at 8 o’clock, my reality is this:
No Perfection in the Universe
After only four hours’ sleep,
my slumber should be sound and deep;
but very early in the day,
mufflers seem to be passé.
My window opens to the street
to try to beat the daily heat,
so the sounds of ATV’s
enter freely with the breeze.
When motorcycles rev and roar
just outside my bedroom door
and trucks come rumbling two by two––
there is nothing I can do
but grab my computer and write my blog
when I should be sleeping like a log.
It’s true I might be way less surly
if I got to bed more early,
but you see it’s not to be
for when the bars all close at three
the motorcycles are just as loud
their drivers young and motor-proud.
They shout and roar and spin their wheels.
Their music beats and thumps and peals
as they do one pass or more
right outside my bedroom door.
Outside the other side of my rental
all the sounds are elemental.
The surf’s loud roar is more relaxing,
but here the engine roars are taxing!
So when you picture my vacation,
just think of the daily ration
of engine angst that I confess
and perhaps you’ll envy less.
The parade of mufflerless motorcycles, cars and revving trucks begins at eight a.m. Here is one minute of traffic passing in front of my house. The blue wall with the open door and window is mine.
(Click on first picture, then on arrows to enlarge photos and view.When you’ve viewed all 11 pictures, click on X on upper left of your screen to return to my posting.)
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 