Varadero / Toronto
It was just one last chance for a beach walk at Varadero. In that dark, early-hour time, not a soul can be seen or heard (5 a.m.). A tractor pulled up and ploughed the beach, leaving a fresh turn of the sand. Done before the people come out to make their prints, it’s a daily affair.
The tourists who come here are globally represented. Lots of Russians! Lots of Canadians! Lots of drinks!
Oh, dear Prabhupada (my guru), thank you for sparing me from the vodka/beer culture, for I see that even in broad daylight, some come into the water waist-deep with huge mugs of booze. They stand there in the water’s current. Clean water surrounds them but toxic water pollutes the inside of them.
And there are children at the beach. What do they learn from these adults?
“This is what it will be like for you as an adult.” Not a good message sent.
In the queue at the airport, a man and woman drink the last contents of a bottle. It’s precious for them but stinks for those standing behind them. “Good to the last drop,” they think. I wanted to say (to them), “There’s got to be a better way,” but I doubt they’d accept my sermon.
I like the massive campaign that has gone on for years to discourage smoking. It has been effective in saving so many people from bad health. Can this pro-active education not apply to drinking?
I know for a fact that the plane we were in brought in bottles and bottles of rum and so much other fluid. Just one bottle weighs something substantial. But just one bottle pays substantial, and that, it appears, is usually the bottom line.
May the Source be with you!