August 6 : When the Sea Loves the Land

When the sea loves the land, as it does here, it caresses it’s love over and over with a thousand hands. It lays itself upon the breast of bluffs and gently ebbs and flows around the curves and contours of the coast. It swings in, sidles up and nestles itself in the welcoming places. It fills the voids and craggy spaces.

When the ocean shows it’s passion, it rises in great waves and collapses in ardor without armor willing to destroy its form, become froth, become mist, become just a hint of moisture to be as close to its love as it can possibly be. It crescendos and crashes but in careful splashes as if it wishes to no longer be the sea but become the land or something in between.

When the land loves the sea, it seems unmoved and unchanged, unimpressed. But the land welcomes the sea. It opens it’s coves and cays and bays, it’s long islands and inlets. It lays out blankets of beaches, supple in sand. It reclines and relaxes and trembles, “come to me, lover. Come to me!”

When the earth craves the ocean, it moves slowly but lovingly. Cliffs crumble, islands drown, rivers open. All these things the land moves aside to welcome the waters in. The land’s embrace is quiet but sure and always, always beckoning, “come to me, come to me.”

When land loves the sea and the sea loves the land, it is a slow dance that plays to music whose tone has lasted thousands of years. They glide across the golden strand and create curls and furls in rock and sand. Their feet etch the granite, their fingers trace the crests of swelling waters. They lean. They stretch. They give a little and they take a little. They create unfathomable beauty that takes millennia to make. When the sea and the land love each other, they create places like this. Oh bliss, oh bliss, oh bliss.

Bounding slowly along in Andre, we’ll move through this dance of love, around the slips and slides, the dips and twirls. Through the droning hum of the car, we’ll almost be able to hear the music that moves these lovers as we move across their path over Asturias. Around each corner, a new expression of love from the sea and over each bluff a new poetic call from the land. 

As the sun sets on the day, we’ll reach the other side of this heavenly dance floor. We’ll slide down a narrow, winding way into a tiny village called Cudillero. No doubt the place we stay will be cozy and comfortable. We’ll wander and eat and drink with locals who know and appreciate the affairs of the land and the sea. And we’ll dance – a slow waltz along the small wharf. Our feet will slide along the wet walkway. Our fingers will caress the lacy mist that lingers in the ocean air. We’ll twirl and dip, we’ll glide over it all. We’ll rest and lean against cold, rusty rails and look up to the sky. And there, the stars will twinkle the strings on their Spanish guitars and play a love song for lovers that will love forever. Come to me, come to me, come to me. For you are the land and I am the sea.