It's sunny and hot, there's a holiday, so everybody is heading to the beach. It's Friday, 5pm, and the roads are already jammed. The trip that normally takes 1 hour, now takes 3. I'm impatient, sweating a lot, and asking myself why I insist on travelling in these occasions. I'm also worried because there's always someone feeling entitled to let their anger out, threatening the others' lives on the road. I'm listening to reggae, and it's an imense contradiction to my true feelings at the moment.
I finally arrive and feel relieved - "it's worth it!"
The following day I start the preparations - rituals trully: sun lotion for the body and the face, hair lotion, bikini, a hat, sun glasses. I step the sand and look for a spot far from the crowd. There's no such thing. So I change the paremeters to calm crowd. I see a girl reading a book. That's my place!
The sun is tough, but I have my parasol. I lay down with the body to be tanned and the face under the shadow. Perfect!
10 minutes. A bunch of teenagers settle just next to me with a stereo. I hate their music!