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And to the west, just beyond a shallow tributary that obviously fed the lagoon behind
us, lay the most glorious expanse of beach either of us had ever seen, culminating approx-
imately half a mile away in an artfully-arranged collection of massive boulders cascading
down the hillside into the sea.
Playa Grande
We stood in awed silence for a minute or two.
“How about a short walk?” Michael suggested.
I surprised myself by saying yes—even in my current frail condition I couldn't imagine
saying no to such beauty. Wading gingerly across the broad, shallow stream, flip flops in
hand, we marveled at the tiny sea creatures darting through the water as our footsteps roiled
the warm sand.
Eventually we made our way to the other side and along the white beach. It was glori-
ous, exhilarating—and tiring. After about fifty yards I began to flag. The sun was powerful
and sweat began trickling down my back. Excited though my mind was, my body was re-
belling.
“I think I need to sit down,” I said in a pathetic, reedy voice, barely audible above the
crashing of the waves.
Without a word, Michael took my arm and led me towards a thick grove of palm trees
nearby.
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