On the lake, on the margins

 

The Ajijic Malecon winds gracefully around Lake Chapala's edges, bordered with manicured grass, palm trees, and masses of bright bougainvillea. Deeks and Saschatawan pelicans appear suspended, and egrets on stilts stand on the margin of land. Each enjoying the lake's bounty. Sunrises and sunsets are magical, filling the soul with a serene peace. Normally,  it is tranquil, but in the late afternoon, there are often guitar players serenading those strolling past as the sun sinks into the mountains.

It is easy to be swept up in the natural beauty because many gringos never leave the promenade. After all, the continuation isn't paved, and there are no benches to sit on while listening to the gentle waves lapping the shoreline.

Most people circle around and go back the way they came. The scene on the other side is a wilderness compared to the malecon. Often those who venture onto this hard beaten path, those of us with dogs, will encounter young men enjoying a bit of magic weed and quarts of cerveca or the old guys who live in little more than a lean-to and make a meager living fishing and selling their catch. 

Today as I was on the "other side," I noticed a green tarp strung on a line between two trees. Then I saw the two chairs and a sleeping bag. A few feet away was the makeshift kitchen. No one was home.

Here was someone's marginal life, not ten yards from the promenade and yet worlds away.