The CircumnavigatorPart 3:
"This isn't church... but it's close!"
Most nights I camped at beach parks spaced out along the island's shore. It wasn't long before I could 'read' a beach park as I approached it. Some were clearly tourist and family friendly places, easy to find, well maintained by the county government and situated near the highway. Others were nestled deep within communities, well off the beaten tourist track. As I pulled into this town I could quickly tell that this park would be one of the latter. The approach road was lined with junked cars, stray dogs running among them. But as I got closer to the park, things heated up a little.
Near the beach park a cluster of souped up imports were parked near a cluster of guys and girls dressed in bathing suits and smoking prodigous quantities of marijuana. A few of the cars had drivers revving their engines and showing off short, jackrabbit starts while peeling out of the parking lot in clouds of smoke and burnt rubber. While I stared at the spectacle the most busted vehicle I had ever seen roared out from the crowd and came straight at me, stopping alongside the driver leaned out of the broken front windshield and gave me shout:
Pumping his fist, he roared off in a cloud of dust, unburnt fuel, and pungent weed. I just hoped he was thinking of the 'other beach', even though there was no 'other beach' that I could see. As the sun dipped low in the sky the crowds began to gather. Picnic tables heaped in food were set up, and despite my hopes for a quiet night it was hard not to eye the feast greedily when dinner had been a can of sardines. Finally the party began as the first of the floats rolled out of town, towards the beach. The Aftermath: When I rolled into their town neither I or the local residents throwing the party, had any idea about the eachother's plans and yet they generously invited me to join in what was obviously a special occasion, asking nothing in return. Getting to taste authentic foods and listen to discussion and lessons about the island and its culture was perhaps the best part of my trip. It was a true adventure in meeting people and being invited into a small part of their lives.
On my way out the next day I passed the same crowd with the cars. Again the junker without the windshield raced up to me shouting:
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