I’ve always loved the water. I learnt to swim when I was very young and as I was growing up I had the view of Stangford Lough always before me. In 2014, I spent three months, practically living on the beach of Kabak in Turkey. This was the first time I’d experienced a prolonged period of living by the water since leaving Ireland in 1997 :/ Even if I’d had a hard day (working in 40+ degrees can be tough!) swimming out in that sea, never failed to refresh.
Last summer I became the familiar odd one out on the beach of Barcelona. In the morning, as soon as I got up, on went my bikini (and of course clothes on top) and I strolled though elegant El Born to Barceloneta stopping for el cafe along the route. I loved this place in the morning, when the narrow streets were empty of people but not the graffiti doors and the workers of the city were taking their morning coffee. The beach was never empty but compared to the squash of the afternoon, I could enjoy the space and in the morning the water was always clearer and calmer. Pensioners, half naked, joined me along with the revelers either asleep or still sipping their beer. In the midst of these two groups, I swam. Any morning stiffness in my body was washed away.
It’s only been seven weeks since I’ve been in Tarifa but now I know that it is completely nonnegotiable that I should ever live away from the sea. Here also I enjoy nothing better than to wake up in the morning and head to the beach. It’s still to cold to swim but in the morning I walk next to the water’s edge and enjoy the medative flow of the tide. The water effect is deep set within me.