Beaches; or, My sand is bigger than your sand

While we are waiting to go home on our RAT for summer, we are enjoying the perks of island life that elude us during the school year.

This past week, I went to the ocean more than I did in August through June. In fact, I only visited the beach once. Pitiful, I know. A combination of health issues in the fall and a crazy, crazy work schedule all year round had me staying in on weekends, instead of taking advantage of the beautiful, eternal summer that is GTMO.

One way to find much-needed balance in life is to get off my butt and get out of the house. What better way to relax than to smell the salt air, feel the ocean breeze, listen to the waves, and soak up the sun?  Everyone has his or her personal preference to the many beaches here. I've posted pictures from Chapman, Windmill, and Cable beaches, and each spot has its advantages and disadvantages. When it is just myself and my youngest, I don't like the isolation of Chapman beach (even though it is really gorgeous), and Cable has a great wading pool (and a smaller beach to the side I love called Pebble Beach), but not much in the way of sea glass and it's in the middle of a much-needed cabana renovation, so that's a no-go. Some people love Ferry Landing, but I can't deal with not being able to see my feet, and the water tends to be cloudier there than other spots. It does have nice sand and I've found some great sea glass there, but it is not my favorite swimming spot.

Instead, I love Girl Scout beach. It is a total pain in so many ways. For starters, there are the stairs. If you have lived here, you know what I'm talking 'bout---they are a bear. Going down isn't so bad, but after a couple of hours of swimming or SCUBA diving, they make you re-think how in shape you really are. Every time I think, "Dang, I thought I was in good shape" (and then wheeze like the 45 year-old asthmatic that I am). But it is so worth it, because it has everything that we like in a beach.

It has sand. I know this sounds crazy, but we don't have sand at all of our beaches. We have rocks. If you want to get technical, we have really, really, REALLY large sand, because what is sand other than tiny rocks, right? So we have XXXXL sand at most beaches, which requires shoes at all time. We also have urchins and rock fish and other things you really don't want to step on, so you should wear swim shoes here, regardless. I just bought some Chacos online and they work great for the XXXXL sand, too.  

In addition to sand, it has sea glass. Tons of it. I have found some other interesting things at Girl Scout, too. I've found: forks and spoons, old military buttons, gun shells, copper wiring, pieces of pottery and china, an old watch (broken), shells, sea fans, coral, and a grouchy iguana.

Some recent treasures: a plastic bottle top that says, "Séjourné Depuis 1915." I know enough to know that's French and I've got mad Google skills, so I found out that it's a soda top from Haiti. We unfortunately get lots of garbage from Haiti. It's not the first time I've found things written in French on the beach, and I'm sure it won't be the last. Sadly, our neighbor Haiti seems to be a country that puts lots of garbage in the ocean.

Image from (where else?) their facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/sejournehaiti

I also found a shard of china that says, "Buffalo China Mandalay." Google tells me that it's a pattern used in restaurants that was popular in the 1930s-50s. It's a nice pattern. I don't think I've ever found any pieces with the actual pattern on them, but I have found many other patterns of china in my beach combing.

Image found at www.replacements.com

What makes Girl Scout fun to us is the waves and on most days, opportunities for great snorkeling. Son 2 and I love diving and jumping in the waves.  There are strong currents, so you have to be a strong swimmer (and cognizant of all times as to how rough the waves are and how strong the undertow is). Son 2 sees the sign below and says, "If they are in danger, Mom, why are they making the 'hang loose' sign?" Good question, kid!!

The only downside to Girl Scout (other than the stairs that seem to double in size on the way back up) is the sand isn't tiny, dusty white sand like in Florida or the Mayan Riviera.

Therefore, you get lots of tiny rocks (or XL sand, depending on how you look at it) in your nose, ears, and mouth, depending on how graceful (or not, in my case) you are while rolling around in the tide.

This also means that kids (and adults) end up with lots of pieces XL sand in their swim suits.

I don't know how to delicately put this, but here's the thing: you end up with lots of XL sand all on your lady and manly bits.

It's as painful as it sounds.

The first trip to the beach, Son 2 gets into the shower and we hear the spilling of what seemed like 10 lbs of rocks (okay, XL sand) all over the bathroom floor. We were sweeping it up for weeks. Because of water restrictions, no beaches have water right now, but Girl Scout never had cabanas or showers, so that's a mute point, anyway. You haven't lived until you have rocks stuck in the creases and crevices of your swimsuit and your body (not a pleasant thought, I know), and then have them tumble everywhere when you take off your suit.

My poor shower trap, washing machine, and dryer all get lots of abuse after a trip to the beach.

The rock (XL sand) issues aside, the beaches here are worth the extra effort. So many conveniences of life we took for granted in the US, but the beauty of living here is the beauty of this place. Florida may have beautiful sand (XXS rocks) and crystal clear water, but show me a beach that has giant iguanas begging for food, strange artifacts that are decades old, or literally thousands of pieces of sea glass that glitter like jewels, all free for the taking (except that iguana---you definitely don't want to feed or touch him!).

A few of my favorite things; or, the Doubloon Stomp

For the second time in the almost 4 months since we moved here, we've had a nice little market where anyone can sell homemade items. There are wooden cut out plaques of Cuba; there are really, really good nature photographs; there are tee shirts with snarky/funny sayings; there is even a beekeeper on Gitmo (seriously!) who sells local honey. And I know where you are thinking this is going. . . shell art, right?

This never gets old.

But I'm not here to talk to you about shell art. I'm not adverse to a little shell art; however, I am more impressed by sea glass, that somehow addictive and obsessive hobby of so many GTMO residents. People here take the naturally tumbled and glazed pieces of garbage glass and fashion them into pretty necklaces, bracelets, and earrings. Anything that can be bedazzled and festooned---stepping stones, keychains, barrettes---are decorated with sea glass and sold.

Combing beaches for the perfect piece of a rare color (yellow, purple, red, or cobalt blue) is something I can spend hours doing.

How did the glass get here? Like all stories associated with this place, especially since we are the U.S.'s oldest overseas base, the legend has a life of its own. Did it come from a bar that once sat above a cliff, where sailors would throw their beer and wine bottles into the ocean? Did it drift here from Jamaica and other parts of Cuba? (One day, I will get pictures of the huge hole in the coral shore of Coral Beach that is full of shoes---hundreds of single flip flops, dress shoes, slippers, you name it---that have supposedly floated in from other parts of Cuba and Jamaica). Or what about the less romantic (but probably more probable) explanation that the thousands of pieces of glass are a byproduct of lots of garbage dumped in the bay? Much of the glass is very old---you can find entire antique bottles if you know where to look, some with imprints of long-gone Cuban breweries from the early or pre-Castro days.

After Hurricane Sandy, some of the beaches were so strewn with pieces of glass, you had to carefully watch your step. Not that you can go barefoot on our beaches; thanks to the tiny rocks and pieces of coral, our beaches always require swim shoes. We aren't the sugar sand, white beaches of Destin, Florida or the Mayan Riviera. We are the rough and wild beaches of Cuba. And I never give up an opportunity to find sea glass while I'm there.

Step lightly---I mean literally, not metaphorically.

In addition to beach combing (and a little diving), we celebrated Mardi Gras this past weekend, Gitmo style.

And no, there was not a parade like Christmas. But there was a festival for kids and families and it was still entertaining. It had some authentic touches, too, here and there. My favorite part was the Cajun band that made my day, my February, and my 2013 thus far and caused me to pause---and then sing and dance like nobody's watchin'---when I heard this opening stanza:

Down in New Orleans
Where the blues was born
It takes a cool cat
To blow a horn
On LaSalle and Rampart Street
The combo's there with a mambo beat

Alright, my NOLA loving, Mardi Gras partying friends, I know you know the chorus to this one. I couldn't believe it---it looks like Cuba, the weather says it's Cuba, but there is a band from Louisiana (including an accordion player, mais oui) on stage singing "Mardi Gras Mambo." Oh, happy day!

The youngest asked me to stop singing and dancing because I was embarrassing him (really, what's the point of having kids if you can't embarrass them in public?), and then he had a great day, too, because he got his face painted. As we were walking up to the festival, he said, "This is going to be the day I've been waiting for my whole life----I get to get my face painted!"

I don't know where this child gets his flair for the dramatic. Really. Hmmmm.

Doubloons. Sea glass. These are a few of my favorite things.

Much earlier in the morning, before the festival, we went to the beach.  As I was trying my best not to be pushed down by some rather violent waves, I came to a realization about Mardi Gras and sea glass. I would see a coveted and rare color or a near-perfect, smooth and tumbled piece, and then a wave would take it away before I could get to it. I finally decided to use a technique I first learned as a child at Mardi Gras---the doubloon stomp.

If you only know of Mardi Gras with stupid, drunken guys screaming at stupid, flashing girls, or people puking in gutters, you unfortunately don't know my Mardi Gras. The Mardi Gras of my childhood had guys riding on horses---if you were pretty enough, they would stop and for a peck on the check, give you a single, long-stemmed rose. Does anyone else remember this? I don't think any parades do this anymore.

Cops had horses, too.  I have a vivid memory of two cops on horses, picking up an especially inebriated and sassy guy between them and riding him off to the drunk tank. His feet never touched the ground. Awesome.

My Mardi Gras had the mighty Indians in their one-of-a-kind costumes, and the Brass Bands with wailing horns ("Do Watcha' Wanna, Mardi Gras Morning," etc), and the NOLA area high school bands performing their renditions of R & B hits with dance line girls and majorettes that could shake what their mamas gave them. And some.

And the "throw me somethin', mister" and you learned real quick---if you want beads, you grab high. Better yet, you got you a ladder at Schwegmann's---that's where you used to go, before they all closed, to "make groceries"---with a box nailed to the top. You put your younguns in the box, and then you pimped your kids for beads. The guys and gals on the floats would just hand the beads gently to the babes in the boxes---no need to scream or grab.

I was never a bead girl. I was all about the doubloons. Cheap metal coins with parade names, logos, and pictures on them are what I collected. Today, I have a fancy crystal canister full of them. It just takes one time, and then you learn---if you don't want parade goers smooshing your phalanges, leaving them filthy and bleeding, you stomp first, and after the crowd disperses, you grab.

I've put my childhood lessons to good use. I see sea glass I want, I dig my toes in and cover it with my foot (and hopefully remember my beach shoes or flip flops), and then grab it once the wave has dissolved. I still don't have as much success with sea glass as I did with doubloons---but some Mardi Gras muscle memory (stomp, then grab) has come in handy.