Ibiza Beach Morning

Ibiza Beach Morning

KENNETH E. HALL                 HOUSTON.            JUNE 3, 2018 / revised JULY 10, 2018

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 “Let no one say it,
(And say it to your shame)
That all was beauty here 
Until you came.”
— Val Lewton

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*"Time is a river. 

Our bodies are canoes. 

When you go wading, 

Please remove your shoes."

                                                               *https://theramblingsofabrokenmind.wordpress.com/

Ibiza! 

I was staying at a nice and very inexpensive beachfront hotel in Talamanca, Ibiza in the last days of September, 1973. I was 21, and well into my 9 month-long Grand Tour of Europe.

Back then, this island was a a backpacker's dream, and could indeed be done on the famous but highly dubious "Europe on $5 a Day" budget.

The beach was wonderful! The Mediterranean water was clear and sweet, and there were shades of blue one cannot imagine. Whether you swam in the water or laid on the pristine sands just being one with the sea and shore, it mattered not. It was an experience people write poetry and songs about. I busied myself with soaking up every sight, sound, taste, feel, and smell of it.

Early one morning I ventured out of the hotel to walk alone where the sea meets the land, and only the pounding of the waves and an occasional bird call disturbed the silence of the daybreak.

After walking up and down, I returned to the hotel via this same beach.

At one part, I noticed,  the sand and underwater areas were covered with broken wine bottles. Good thing I noticed in time, or I would have surely shredded the soles of my bare feet on them.

I was surprised at how much of a danger these chunks of glass and bottoms of broken wine bottles posed to the casual wader of swimmer who ventured by. I stood there amid all this natural beauty, yet I dared not enjoy it for fear of cutting myself.

I grew increasingly angry over this, but anger turned to action. I knew something had to be done, but who should do it? The answer came immediately: I was the only one around. If I didn't do something and just kept walking, I would just be ignoring that which I could change.

I began to collect the shards and glass chunks one-by-one and piled them up on the berm. After about an hour of doing this, I had a respectable pile accumulated. At this point, I had made very little difference in the amount of glass that made that part of the beach pretty much unusable. 

That was disconcerting to say the least.

But here and there, a couple of turistas, like me, enjoying the day, commented to me on what I was doing. Some laughed at me, saying I was just wasting my time. Some gave me a thumbs up, but continued on their way without lifting a finger. One girl joined me, though, and then an older German couple, and then a few more. Eventually I had about a dozen helpers from nearly that many countries.

The day was as beautiful as any day at a Mediterranean beach could possibly be. Time seems to go in slow motion on days like those. But so much glass remained. I stayed with my tiny army of volunteers, picking up one piece of glass at a time. Over the course of my stay there, some left, but others just as quickly joined in.

As the sun set, I was hungry and tired - but it was a good tired. My fellow visitors, by this time had bid me a fond adieu in German, French, Spanish and Danish ----and I remained alone to see the sun set.  And what a wonderful sunset it was!!! That horribly and dangerously littered section of the beach had by now been cleaned up to where it was safe for swimmers and those who like to wade barefoot in the water.

There was so many littered beaches in the world, but like the proverbial starfish that was thrown back into the sea, what we did that day made a difference to THAT beach then. 

That's the power of one.

Don't expect to save the world.

Act as if you could, and you will make a difference, even if it is for one small place a long time ago.

If everyone did their part, the power of one would be the power of all.

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In late summer of 1973 I visited the Balearic island of Ibiza (called 

Eivissa in the Mallorquín-Catalan language spoken there.) It is located in the Mediterranean Sea off the east coast of Spain, 150 kilometres (93 miles) from Valencia, and 282 kilometers SSW of Barcelona. 

I stayed in  the largest community there: Vila d'Eivissa, 

(known simply as Ibiza), in a section called Talamanca. where Spanish is definitely a second language.

*https://theramblingsofabrokenmind.wordpress.com/