Shark Bake
The car swerves down the tiny, winding road near the coast. Green, leafy trees provide a barrier along the street, and a fiery sun shimmers off the water.
The wind blows a little, and the trees sway. In the distance, one can see the faint shoreline dotted with people over a look out high in the cliff.
As the car approaches, the passengers are not surprised to find most of the parking spaces taken. Maracas Beach is a popular site, as most know, and the driver dwindles from lot to lot until a free space is found.
The passengers open their doors, allowing the scorching sun to beat down upon them. As it happens, one of the passengers forgot his sunscreen, and was already feeling the burn upon his cheeks. He opens the trunk of the tiny car, searches around for a minute, and then begins applying the lotion as the others make their way to the beach.
The beach is packed to the brim, every person going a different direction. The group, two men, two woman, and four children, head towards the water. Each is holding a chair or towel, some applying sunscreen to another’s back. A designated place is found underneath the tall palm trees, and the children run towards the water.
The sun has heated the sand, and each step outside the shade burns. The children run into the ocean, splashing eachother with the cool water. Their feet quickly return to normal temperature, and the group of adolescents begin to search for sea shells.
The adults are opening their umbrellas, spreading out towels and forcing open the last beach chair; chattering all the while. The women pull lounge chairs out of the shade and grab their sunglasses as they begin to tan. The men are grabbing their cameras, snapping a photo of every specimen possible and scrutinizing each picture.
The children congregate with the adults a while later, complaining of empty stomachs. Wallets are grabbed, and again the group sets off, this time away from the coast. A dozen different huts have been set up around the hub of the beach, each with a very long line. The group has been here before, and knows what to expect. The children run toward the longest line: a stand with red flags around it, curiously named “Richard’s”.
It is obvious that Richard’s is the most popular, though the wait is long. They have mastered the ‘Shark Bake’; a lightly battered and seasoned young shark, wrapped in a light bread, or ‘bake’.
The children wait patiently as they slowly inch toward the front of the line. When they do, each of them receives a shark bake, along with their choice of toppings.
The stand is abundant in the most exotic of condiments. Tamarind, cilantro, garlic, and Congo sauces are all on the list. There are also the regular toppings: lettuce, tomato and cucumber.
Only after each person in the group has decorated their shark bake with toppings do they move back to the beach. The children take towels out into the sun while the adults prefer to stay in the shade. Each person devours their shark bake differently: with their hands, stuffing it in their mouths, or cutting it into small bites. The shark bake just adds to their pleasure of the paradise they have found.
The water churns in the ocean, and the sun constantly looks down upon the people with a fiery rage. The grains of sand get in hair and swimsuits, and the emerald green trees sway in the wind. Those in the water are splashed with the spray of rising and falling waves, laughing and talking.
The coast is leafy green, full of trees and vegetation. A look out spot hovers above the beach, with different stands selling local fruits. The sky is a sapphire blue, and not a cloud can be found.
Cars run up and down the winding path to the beach, each looking for their own paradise.
