The sun burns the skin and transfers the ashen sand into what feels like hot lava. Over the sand, the air visibly shimmers, sometimes so much that the trees beyond the beach might be just a mirage. But all this is doable, the water is fresh, and something simple like an umbrella might spend enough shade to walk around. (A camera enough distraction not to care.) I wonder whether the classical Parisian parasols will have a comeback?
And then there is the different kind of heat of course. The heat that comes from watching fit, joyful, only partly-dressed people all day who all are their best selves. Bronzen skin under golden light. Salt water-soaked hair. The sparkle of the sea on an upright back while it elegantly bends to take the next wave… you get the idea! At Waiao, this energy felt peaceful. Just another layer of wonder over all the other layers of sun, sea, sand, and palm trees. It was more inwardly appreciated curiosity than outward directed desire.