It’s Not the Size That Matters–A Seaside Photo Essay

This is the view from my beach.

And by “my beach,” I really mean our beach, i.e. the “beach” in Krašići (pronounced KRA-shi-chi), a teeny tiny seaside town on the Adriatic Coast in a country called Montenegro.

The word “beach” is a loose term; it’s rather a cleared space of rocks that lead into the water.

Even the pronunciation of “beach” is vague, since it depends upon one’s accent. The more British-sounding “beech” to my rogue American ear definitely sounds like “bitch.”

And so when my friend said, “I don’t think we need more beeches here after all,” and his wife replied with only a calm nod, I had to wonder what we were really talking about. Because surely no one really needs more bitches in his or her life. Obviously.

So it’s true, the size of the beach is just right for sitting and eating junk food after an arduous morning of nearly drowning oneself with vigor (my son’s specialty, don’t ask).

Our beach is big, but not too big.

It’s clean, but not too clean. (Note the random red graffiti’d rocks the perfect size for random incorrect yoga poses performed by a puckish but sturdy five-year-old sprite.)

The water is cold but not too cold.

The rocks are hard on your feet, but not too hard.

The boats are big, but not too big.

Waaaaiiittt … Hold up … What?

Yes, that’s correct, you saw it right. There is a large power boat riding on top of a huge effing yacht.

No. That’s not our boat. But … it’s not the size that matters.

Our jaunty motorboat (above, with blue and white) is quite large enough to accommodate our family and friends. Just right.

The sunsets are beautiful, but not too beautiful.

All of which is cherished and missed already.

Until next year, dear ol’ Krašići!