From the house, I went for a run over a bridge, straight up a cobblestone road, past a line of tamale salesmen and women, past a line of workers buying tamales, down into town, onto the boardwalk, past sipping coffee guy, wave to the friendly homeless man with the crystal clear eyes, high five to the runner man straight out of Christopher McDougall's Born to Run, onto the Malecon, past the alien statues, jump over the puddles from the street washers, when I saw them...
Folks balancing rocks on the beach. It was so incredibly cool I had to stop and watch them work, no matter how caliente it was. They piled rocks, some of them over twenty pounds, balancing them one on top of another, stacked them three/four high. It was amazing.
Back at the casa while the kiddos were playing in the sand I decided to give it a try. It's harder than it looks. But trust me, it's also ten times more fun than it looks. At one point, I think I entered some kind of zen state. I was no longer inside myself. I became one with the world. I in the rocks, the rocks in me, the waves crashing behind me, the sun on my back, finding balance...not only in my fingers...not only in these stones...but in me...I can't overstate it. It was cool...no matter how caliente it was.
The next morning, I brought some dollars with me on my run over the bridge, up the hill, past the tamales, but alas the rock balancers were not there. Nor were they there the next day, or the next. They must only balance on the weekends.
So may this short blog be their tribute. Thank you rock balancers. And if you readers ever make it down to Puerto Villarta and see them, please extend to them my full appreciation as well as a few pesos on my behalf.