At the Beach Bar

Beside the beach, a shade-dappled bar pours out cold beers to a soundtrack of breezy soul, rock, reggae and bossa. Pull up a chair and kick back. 

Down at the beach, you lay on the sand with the mid-afternoon sun beating down. To the far side of the bay you see a scattering of colourful umbrellas and sun loungers. The idea of a little shade and something other than a damp towel beneath you seems inviting, but then paying for the privilege is something you resent. They’re owned by the beachside hotel anyway, and you don’t like the idea of sharing your space with screaming children and their obnoxious parents. 

Seems like you’ll have to make do with a plunge in the sea and a few more swigs of your warm, possibly not-safe-to-drink, tap water. Then you remember, just back from the beach, up the path you scrambled down to get here, you walked past that little beach bar. It looked empty on your way here but, then again, maybe things open up a little later here. So you take your chances and hastily gather up your things, pulling a t-shirt over your salty skin as you make the short but hazardous trek back up the steep gravel path. 

At the top, you descend weathered concrete steps into the bar and look around. The place is empty apart from a few solitary figures occupying the once-colourful plastic chairs, but the shade of the straw roof is welcome relief from the sun, so you accept a waved invitation and take a seat at the front, looking down on your imprint in the sand below. 

After some hand signals and a lazy attempt at the language, a beer arrives at your table. Bigger than expected but very much welcome. It's only as you finally settle back into your chair do you hear the sounds of a small speaker by the bar drifting across the terrace on the breeze. You take a long sip of beer and listen in, the cool liquid and slow, lazy sounds soon wash over you. You hear some tracks you recognise and a few you don’t, you nod along to George Harrison and Peter Green, a few old soul tunes and some gently swaying surf music. 

Soon enough your beer is finished so you wave for another. Next comes silky smooth bossa from Mai Doi Todd, a cover of "Everybody Loves the Sunshine" and some dubbed-out Serge Gainsbourg. Next comes some mellowed-out rock, some Marvin Gaye and some lush bossa. You look out over the waves, shimmering in the late afternoon sun, feeling pleased with yourself. It's a shame you’re going to have to face the long walk home, down the side of the winding tarmac road, in your damp beach clothes and those overpriced sandals that rub your feet. Well, better get one last beer.