We were young. Some of us had just entered our twenties and others were in our mid-thirties. Our group was large, but at that time there were only five of us willing to undertake the trip. The destination was Cuyagua, a town with one of the most famous beaches at that time, located in Aragua, Venezuela.
It was the first time we were all going away together for a weekend so far from home. We were excited, so much so that the night before we couldn't sleep and stayed up drinking, smoking, and talking until dawn, not knowing exactly what we would find when we got to the beach because none of us had ever visited it before, we didn't even know how to get there.
We left Friday morning with several backpacks in which we had canned goods, breads, cold meats, drinks, water, and food prepared the night before for breakfast and lunch that day. We had two tents, some clothes to change into, and enough money for unforeseen expenses. On the way, we passed by looking for a cousin of one of my friends, and with she, the group now numbered six: five men and one woman.
Four hours later we were crossing one of the hills of Ocumare de la Costa to reach our destination, after asking at several stops which bus we should take. As we crossed this mountain, we were overcome with a great feeling of vertigo because of the steepness and narrowness of the road, there were moments when the bus seemed about to overturn or collide with the car that was coming in front of us.
Finally, we arrived at the town of Cuyagua. From there we had to walk to the beach for about half an hour, surrounded by lush vegetation, with a predominance of palm trees. We felt like we were discovering a new land, with its own history and people, mostly fishermen, artisans, cooks, and merchants. The air in that place was so clean and purifying that at first, it was hard to breathe.
When we arrived at the beach, shortly after noon, we chose a place to stay and set up our tents. Near us there were other travelers who had been staying on the beach for days, thanks to them we learned that it was safe to spend the night there because the locals made sure that no thief or ill-intentioned person would commit misdeeds, and if they did, they would not go unpunished.
Our first surprise was to learn that one of our neighbors was Mexican and had left his homeland many years ago to travel the world with only a backpack on his back. He told us about the countries he had visited and said that later we would meet his companion, a woman he had met when he arrived in Venezuela and who was also traveling around the world.
We felt like free spirits on that beach, far from routine, noise and responsibilities. Only that moment mattered: the sea in front of us, the sand between our toes, the salt air, the palm trees full of coconuts, the good vibes of everyone present, the fishermen's boats that we could see in the sea, which seemed like small dots on the horizon.
The first night we were a bit nervous, but we quickly got used to the immense darkness of the sea and the star-speckled sky. We gathered to tell stories around a campfire with our neighbors, and there we met Marie, the Mexican's companion. Marie was Dutch and, like he friend, had left her homeland to see the world with a backpack on her back, accompanied by her precious ukulele.
The next day, we could not hide our excitement when we witnessed the beautiful sunrise. The sun's rays licked the sand of the beach and the grains of salt sparkled like small precious stones. The sound of the waves transmitted a peace never before experienced. The smell of the sea impregnated in our nostrils made us more aware of how fortunate we were.
We walked along the shore of the beach from end to end and at one end we found a hut where a couple of hippies had been living for years. A man and a woman in their sixties, dressed in light and simple clothes, with long hair and full of dreadlocks, like most of the local fishermen. They had no children, no jobs, no telephones, and no valuable material goods, but they were happy people who lived in contact with nature and honored the sea, grateful for the blessings that each day offered them.
We talked to the fishermen, listened to some stories of the sea, saw some of the fish they had caught that day, amazed, because several of those fish were almost half a meter long and weighed more than two kilos. We visited some caves at one end of the beach, in the water, and there we were, playing and laughing as if we were children, infected by all the good things that the place had for us.
One afternoon, we met Marie and listened to her play the ukulele. She sang several songs in English, and delighted us with songs by Manu Chao that she knew by heart in Spanish. I fell in love with her when I listened to her, she was a beautiful woman, blonde, with blue eyes, a beautiful voice and very charismatic. At that time, I was still writing and singing rap songs, so the guys encouraged me to rap something. Marie accompanied me with the music and played a reggae tune that I was able to rap over. I improvised, I don't remember what I said, but I know I was talking about love, brotherhood, the greatness of the sea and the sky, and the joy that had taken over my soul and filled my spirit.
The hardest part was coming back, saying goodbye to our backpacker friends, and leaving behind the freedom we felt on that beach. Today, when we get together and get nostalgic, we remember what that weekend was like, the things we did and saw the people we met and the fun we had. It is an experience we will never forget.
• Design: Photoshop CS6.
• Translation: Deepl (free version)