The warm summer sun burns relentlessly on the Portuguese beach. The sand is already so hot that you don't linger on it with bare feet any longer than is absolutely necessary. Except for the occasional motor boats that go out to sea and the seagulls that accompany the arriving fishing boats, it is quiet.
Occasionally one hears a few small children playing beach ball. I like the sound of the rubber ball when it hits the wooden bat. It's a bright, happy 'pong'.
Not a single cloud can be seen in the clear blue sky. When you look at it, it looks surreal, like from another world. This particular blue is one of a kind, I haven't seen it anywhere else.
The dark sea glitters in different nuances, only broken up by the yellow buoys and the whitecaps.
Every now and then two salespeople struggle between the couches and umbrellas, shouting loudly, in constant singsong, sometimes accompanied by a bell, they offer donuts and ice cream.
I think it's a good idea, but hardly anyone is interested. Most sleep or doze off in the shade. I feel sorry for both of them, they have to keep going on their laps fully packed.
The cool Atlantic wind offers variety and tastes pleasantly salty, as if you were breathing in the sea. The waves of the tide crash against the impressive cliffs that surround the beach, deforming them more and more.
I lean back relaxed and enjoy the spectacle.