One morning, after breakfast, I went down to the beach before anyone else was there, and was horrified at what I saw.
Huge bluish, purplish, and clear blobs of yuck were everywhere on that white sand. Covered it, in fact.
I stopped dead. Looked up and down the beach.
Further down, a woman and a boy were stomping their feet as they moved along the sand.
Being careful to avoid the yuck on the sand, I picked my way around it, and made my way down to them.
The woman was small, about twenty-four years old, wearing a dress on her brown skin. The boy was about six and tiny, and he wore shorts and a t-shirt.
They were holding hands.
And stomping on large jellyfish!
In their bare feet!
They never said a word, just kept their heads down, and kept stomping.
I just stared.
I couldn't ask them, WHY?
I couldn't speak Spanish.
When they had completely destroyed the washed-ashore jellyfish and the beautiful beach, they just walked right by me, and went back to the tiny village from where they came.
Did they do the Canadian tourists a favor?
Why didn't they feel the horrific sting of the jellyfish?
One of the guides told everybody to stay off the beach until they could get someone to clean it up.
That took two long days, and the smell grew worse in the heat, until we couldn't stand it.
To this day, I have no answers to why the jellyfish were even there, or why those two did what they did.
I've seen small jellyfish around my dock and in the waters of Florida, but never any as huge as those I saw in Cuba!
Huge bluish, purplish, and clear blobs of yuck were everywhere on that white sand. Covered it, in fact.
I stopped dead. Looked up and down the beach.
Further down, a woman and a boy were stomping their feet as they moved along the sand.
Being careful to avoid the yuck on the sand, I picked my way around it, and made my way down to them.
The woman was small, about twenty-four years old, wearing a dress on her brown skin. The boy was about six and tiny, and he wore shorts and a t-shirt.
They were holding hands.
And stomping on large jellyfish!
In their bare feet!
They never said a word, just kept their heads down, and kept stomping.
I just stared.
I couldn't ask them, WHY?
I couldn't speak Spanish.
When they had completely destroyed the washed-ashore jellyfish and the beautiful beach, they just walked right by me, and went back to the tiny village from where they came.
Did they do the Canadian tourists a favor?
Why didn't they feel the horrific sting of the jellyfish?
One of the guides told everybody to stay off the beach until they could get someone to clean it up.
That took two long days, and the smell grew worse in the heat, until we couldn't stand it.
To this day, I have no answers to why the jellyfish were even there, or why those two did what they did.
I've seen small jellyfish around my dock and in the waters of Florida, but never any as huge as those I saw in Cuba!
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