I take the bus from Paphos to Coral Bay,
enjoying the chatter of the other riders,
most of whom are locals,
taking in the passing scenery,
which is picturesque on the climb and descent
of a mountain pass.
At Coral Bay,
between the reef and the shore,
the water is calm,
barely a ripple of a wave
to darken the sandy beach.
I imagine I could skip a rock
a dozen times on that surface.
The water is a shade of blue
that causes one to feel serene,
that draws people into its bosom
for its sheer beauty.
It promises much for comfort,
bliss, and healing.
One need only step into its embrace.
Come, darling, it calls to me.
But I do not enter the water.
Hotels and restaurants line the tops of nearby cliffs,
vendors sell their French fries
and colas by the beach,
and across the umbrella-filled sand,
people laze in deck chairs,
some in the sun and some in the shade.
The smell of sunscreen mixes
with the scent of salt water,
providing a pleasant aroma.
If I were to bottle this scent in a perfume,
I would call it Les Vacances,
or La Plage.
Snorkelers swim among the coral,
their tour operators maintaining
a sober watch from the boat,
occasionally pointing at something in the water
a client may find interesting.
I’m not one for the beach,
though I was born under a water sign.
Instead, I hike the cliffside trails,
explore a set of ruins,
seek the shade,
and try to identify the birds I see.
Finally, I wander over to a seaside vendor,
whose sign promises
an unbelievable ice cream experience.
