It’s too windy to go into the water today. Our shore excursion to Passion Island was cancelled due to rough seas.

Instead, I’m sitting at a private resort on a canvas lounge chair, watching the ocean shift from green, to blue, to sapphire, with turquoise-streaked though out, and the whole of it tipped with white caps.

The waves gush up the coral strewn beach. Pools of sea water magnify the ancient remnants of crustaceans. Occasionally, the ocean will press through the rocky fringe like miniature geysers, and the sea mist will ride on the wind to my outstretched legs.

Sea birds circle above, black silhouettes gliding in circles against the clouds drifting above me. I wonder what the species is, and what they are seeing.

A mariachi band is playing off in the distance, completing the soundtrack of wind and wave and music on my Mexican vacation.

As I get up to stretch, I find the almost impossibly vibrant fuchsia bougainvillea waving in the stiff breeze. I always take multiple picture of this tropical paper flower, seemingly impossible for me to grow at home.

My relaxation is only broken by the fellow tourists who walk down to my secluded beach area to take dozens of selfies, or talk on their phones. I put in my AirPods and watch the ocean, turning up my music enough to drown out their voices, closing my eyes to their posing. I can still hear the sea, feel the breeze. As they finally walk off, I turn off the music and return to watching and listening to my environment.

It’s amazing what a few hours on a Mexican beach can do for your soul.