Sorry — this is redundant. I talked about lifeguard stations yesterday, and they're hardly a rarity among images of South Beach. But these guys (and girls, I assume) drive to work on ATVs and rescue folks in jet-skis. Cool. It's such a far cry from those classic lifeguard chairs, albeit in bright red, on Sachuest Beach back home. And the cars here are different. Some of them, anyway. Even the sand seems different. Could that be?? I suppose sand is just crunched up particles of its own environment. In Newport, more rocks. Here, more coral (or so I'm guessing). All I know is it's scratchier somehow, or that's how it feels on my bare feet. But, most striking to me, the people are different ... and, no, that's not a comment on local culture, as I know nothing about the local culture. The tables are turned; I'm not a local here. What I mean is that everyone is so different from one another. No, wait, that's not what I mean either, as people are basically the same ... aren't they?? What I do mean to say is that, in my utterly unscientific estimation, seventy-five percent of the words I've heard on the sidewalks and beaches in the last twenty-four hours have been neither English nor Spanish. I've heard languages from all over Europe and Asia plus an embarrassingly large number of others I can't begin to identify. Clothing, too, is different ... and I don't mean short skirts and skimpy bathing suits (though there are plenty of both). There are also head scarves on the beach — saris, too — noticeable mostly because it's quite windy, so they're flying every which way. I'd love to think that's a sign of worldly togetherness as this new year approaches: The world that goes to the beach together, um, stays together. Or swims together. Or something like that. But I'm not so sure ...
