Never have I been in a place that is so silent and so deafening at the same time. Life here is quiet. Vegetation is sparse, and people are sparser. The wind, however, is constant. Frightfully forceful. Fearfully ferocious. This wind tries to fill the void left by the absence of voices, cars, and general commotion…but instead it only whips across the wide beach, around the whitewashed shacks, and away to the endless, sugary dunes. The locals occasionally accompany the wind with drums, gourd string instruments, and bare feet dancing on sand. The sea lions' solo is ones of whoops and barks, echoing off the mossy rocks. And the lighthouse keeps time with its constant, steady spin. Some would call this place barren, desolate, or empty. But if you stay awhile, swinging in a hammock on the porch, you can truly appreciate the symphony of sounds.
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