Author: Jeffrey G. Mendieta
Photography: Jimmy D. Mendieta
I remember as a young boy when my family camped at the beach in Casares which is about a 30 minute drive from Diriamba. I was about 4 years old with sandy blond hair, fair skin, light brown eyes, a little pot belly and skinny little legs. We had a special little spot called “La Posíta” (The Little Pool). We called it “La Posíta” due to a rock formation which sectioned off a small pool like area where we could bathe safely. This photograph is of that exact location.
This photo is of the exact place. You can see “La Posita” in the center of the photo where the rocks at the edge of the water are. ©Jimmy D. Mendieta A. All rights reserved.
You can just make out the little pool in the center of the photograph where the rocks are just at the edge of the water.
Only about 100 feet away from “La Posíta” Papa Raul, my grandfather, owned a little beach house with a couple of small rooms, a kitchen with only the essentials and a small open space for sitting. The little beach house was made of large, rough, grey bricks cemented together. The windows were just metal rods each about half an inch thick laid out vertically, kinda like what you would see in a jail. No glass. Most of them were very rusty due to the humid, salty breeze coming from the sea. The floor was made of ceramic tiles but I can’t remember the color. The doors were made of wood which was also old looking and very worn down and barely strong enough to keep people out when locked.
We had a great big, green tent where my brother Jimmy, my sister Jamie and my parents Jimmy and Jessie would sleep during the nights and siestas. My uncles Raul and Fidel and their families would join us too. They slept in the house along with our grandparents.
My brother Jimmy, my sister Jamie and I playing in Casares.
My favourite memory was of the night time. My uncle, Fidel, would build a type of spear using a common broom stick and two long nails tied to one end of the broom stick side-by-side parallel to each other. He gave one to all us kids and then sent us hunting for crabs on the beach. By this time it was pitch black, that’s when the large crabs came out from their holes in the sand. We would walk up and down the beach with our make shift spears and flashlights searching for the biggest crabs we could find. There were so many running around at this time that as you walked you would frequently feel one run over the top of your bare feet. It was enough to make one jump if they weren’t expecting it.
Meanwhile the adults would build a bonfire on the beach, bring out the guitars, sang, drank, gossiped, joked and just had what seemed to me then and now the happiest times of their lives. Before the night was done the crab hunters would proudly return with a couple of bags full of large crabs perfect for the next day’s crab soup. [JGM]