I love the sound of the waves crashing against the beach, the salty smell and the spray off water after a big wave has just crashed near you. I grew up in a sunny and hot climate. 500 kilometres away from the nearest beach. Being able to see the ocean was a big adventure, only ever happened as part of the family holidays. It was always very hot, with the sun burning your back, and to be honest, quite uncomfortable. But even the sticky sand, and the sun burning my neck and shoulders, couldn’t take away the magic of those waves crashing against the beach and the salty smell and that spray of water.
It was always hot. Places that now seem so exotic and mysterious… Acapulco, Ixtapa, Zihutanejo (remembre The Shawshanck Redemption?). It was always the Pacific.
Today it is the Irish Sea. Today, it was Bray.
It is quite a bizarre feeling. When the ocean comes into view, it is not hot… More often than not it is overcasted or raining. But the sound of the waves is the same. The smell of the sea is still there. The feeling is the same.
The funny thing is that the memories that come flowing back are from the evenings, when after an exhausting day on the beach, after a nice dinner walking back to the room, I was able to hear the ocean and barely see the white foam of the waves crashing against the sandy beach. But you knew that the sea was always there… With the never ending crashing if the waves… the smell… the spray… What is it? I love walking on the beach. I don’t miss being able to swim in it. I don’t do it often enough.
I live in an Island. I should really make an effort to visit my friend more often.