THIRTY-FOUR

© iPhone image of my beach, couldn’t get MidJourney to create this.

I’m staying at a beach I call ‘my beach’, my grandmother used to come here, my mother used to come here, and now I try to come every year. I did so with everyone that is important to me, both my kids have photos here since they were born, and I just had a couple of old friends over for a couple of days. Does that qualify as my beach, beyond an expression?

I was born in Africa, where I lived in Mozambique, South Africa and Rhodesia now Zimbabwe. I have lived in Portugal on and off, in the north and in the south (so don’t ask me if I am from Lisboa or Porto), lived in London, in Barcelona, now in the US for the last 12 years, in Chicago and in Boston. Where do I belong?

In 2022 I turned 60, I wanted to celebrate with a few friends, I realized they are all over the place. I wanted to choose a place I felt best in the world, a place I felt I belonged to, I chose this beach. I ended up having 50 people from different continents at the beach restaurant, some of them on a bus I booked to pick them up in different locations. I danced, sang, dove into the cold December water and had a great time, it was a great choice.

I own some things, like most of us tend to, mostly material belongings that were either acquired directly or have been gifted to us by special people. I never felt owned houses or cars, I always felt I was their transitory caregiver, this because I have moved house so many times and have had so many cars throughout my life. I also don’t have a city I call my own, for the same reasons. So, the closest thing I have to something I call my own, is this beach.

We are seeing a lot of people use their own version of belonging to justify behaviors that are not always healthy, though sometimes we need to walk in someone else’s shoes, if at all possible, to better understand. You noticed I didn’t mention the name of the beach. A part of me would like to show this beach to anyone I meet, because it is truly beautiful, the other part deals every summer with the impact of the beach becoming more well known. There is the traffic and lack of place to park, the restaurant that didn’t open this year because they couldn’t find places at the beach to accommodate their workers, there is a general sense of uneasiness that comes with more people, especially in the summer.

But then I question the limits of belonging and with it of my entitlement. I have travelled through innumerous places, beautiful locals in front of the beach with gorgeous houses, folks having a good time, and I was never envious because I also have a place like this that I come to every year. But in many cases, you do see in the faces of those folks and others around a certain attitude of “what are you doing in my beach”, and that feeling you get does not feel cool, at all.

I heard there was a piece on television where they tagged this as the most beautiful beach in whatever universe they chose to focus on, and with that the locals saw an increase in traffic. Some of the folks here have started posting photos of the beach when it’s foggy (we all know this beach has a temper and will fog a morning or entire day out of nowhere). With all the connectivity and immediacy of sharing experiences comes a burden, but I choose to avoid making others feel unwelcomed in the place I love to spend time, I will always welcome anyone to my beach, and I will remind myself that I always felt I belonged to places where I was most welcomed by the locals.

I am still not sharing the name of my beach 🙂