CHAPTER V: TROPICAL LAGOON
Dawn is rising over Nomad Coast with a blanket of red that covers the entire island in its splendor. Monica, Daphne, Alex and I are on the beach, watching the waves rise over the water with a gentle force, while Fabio, Jordan and Lena slide over them with their serpentine surfboards. The lifeguards open the lifeguard station, the hammock-men of Tropical Lagoon come and go with mattresses and umbrellas between the corridors of hammocks. The seagulls take flight, falling over the sea. The occasional passerby walks in solitary company along the shores of Nomad Coast. A disconcerting calm spreads across the beach and as I contemplate everything around me, a light and peaceful harmony invades me from within.
Time flies by on the beach, so fast that we don't even know how long we've been here. Surfers come out of the water and the morning continues with laughter. Lena gets up from her towel and waves to someone from afar. We all turn around to see who it is, as she says:
—Guys, there's my grandfather, I'm going to say hello to him.
Lena heads to the beach bar and I ask Monica:
—Who is your grandfather?
—It's Mikel, the owner of all this — Monica answers me — He is a very important person in Nomad Coast, he started a beach bar with a few hammocks from nothing and now he is one of the people with the most assets on the island.
“You must be a very interesting person,” I say.
—Of course —Jordan intervenes—, and a bit quirky.
—Come on, let's go over there! You'll love meeting him —Mónica tells me.
—Today we are going to celebrate one of the most anticipated parties of the year —Dafne says—, the end of summer party...
—That's why we came so early —Fabio interrupts—. We have to take advantage of the calm before chaos sets in. In a few hours this place will be invaded by the people from Palm Road.
—When does the party start? —I ask.
—In a few hours —Fabio answers me—, it lasts almost all day.
—We'll have a great time! —Dafne adds with a sweet smile.
We arrive at the Tropical Lagoon Beach Club and there Lena introduces us to her grandfather. Mikel is a truly mysterious person. His hair is very slicked back and is as white as snow, dark glasses hide his eyes, he wears a yellow linen shirt and white Bermuda shorts that add a touch of luminous freshness to his outfit. His steps are filled with shine with golden sneakers, which sparkle as if they carried the rays of the sun with them. Although he has an unusual appearance, Mikel is an endearing person.
—Guys, come in and have a drink —Mikel invites us—. The bar will soon be packed to the rafters.
The Tropical Lagoon is beautifully decorated. Every corner is decorated with bunches of white lilies and wisteria hanging from the wooden beams. On the terrace of the beach bar there is a pergola with long rows of garlands hanging across its roof. I notice that the waiters at Tropical Lagoon are wearing the same T-shirt as Lena. It is white as a sea of clouds, and against this luminous whiteness stands out a spiral sun, printed in dark grey. In addition, some letters in the shape of an arch form the name of the beach bar: Tropical Lagoon Beach Club.
"Sorry, your face doesn't sound familiar," Mikel suddenly says. "You're from out of town, right?"
—Yes, I have come on a trip...
“Grandpa, he came to Nomad Coast to meet you,” Lena agrees. “He’s a very interesting person, I’m sure you’ll get along well.”
—That's important —Mikel says—, knowing yourself is the first step to making your way in the world, to smile at life, to enjoy every moment and, above all, to not get lost on winding paths. My father also came to this island to get to know himself. On Nomad Coast he found a place to plant his seed by starting a humble fishing business.
—And how did you get started in this business? —I ask him with great curiosity.
—Following my father’s example, when I was just sixteen years old, I set up a small wooden beach bar on this very beach. It was a modest business and I always dreamed of something bigger, something that would make people vibrate and transform this beach into a unique destination. So I saved up some money and decided to risk it all. I closed the beach bar for a summer and travelled around different continents, visiting places where I discovered new ideas to transform my business. When I returned from my travels around the world, I changed the beach bar with an innovative approach: new facilities, exotic cocktails, parties and a unique atmosphere. The change was overwhelming; the beach bar became a reflection of all those moments I had lived abroad and that made the people of the island discover new ways of life and made those who came from outside feel at home.
“Entrepreneurship has always been a thing of interest to me,” I say, as I notice that Lena and everyone else have left. “And were you happy to achieve it?”
—For me, all this was a personal goal, but when I achieved it, I realized that what really made me happy was sharing it with others —she answers—, because we believe that happiness depends on what we get for ourselves, but in reality it is in what we give to others.
Wise words. What Lena's grandfather just said makes me think. Suddenly, Alex comes to mind.
—Mikel, I know someone I'd like to help —I say—, but I don't know how to do it, could you give me some advice?
—Yes, of course —Mikel answers me with a smile—, what's wrong?
—Look, you'll see...
Suddenly one of the waiters approaches Mikel and as they are making the final preparations, we cannot continue the conversation, so I will have to continue thinking on my own about how to help Alex to keep Bunker Port standing.
I have lunch with Monica's group at the Tropical Lagoon and then we have some coffee. The end-of-summer party is about to start, but suddenly a doubt assails me that makes me leave that pleasant bubble of rest that surrounds me at the Tropical Lagoon. These days at Nomad Coast have been very intense and I have just forgotten what my true purpose is on this island. I still haven't found the meaning of the white necklace and the letter with that address. Suddenly, I am overcome by an insatiable desire to discover the truth. I won't be able to stay at the party, I can't waste any more time. I have to go to that place to be able to know my roots. So I decide to get up from my stool and say to Monica and her friends:
—Guys, I have to go.
—How are you going to leave? The party has just started! —Lena intervenes.
—I forgot something at the hostel, I'll be back soon —I answer.
—What? —Monica asks me.
I don't know what to say to this. I don't know whether to tell them the truth. If I tell them, they might be surprised, but if I do, perhaps one of them can help me find answers.
—I have to go in search of my origins —I answer.
As I say this, a deafening silence forms between us and everyone stares at me with wide eyes.
—In search of your origins? —Jordan asks me, surprised.
—Yes, I came to this island to find my origins —I answer—. A few months ago, in my grandfather’s basement, I found a necklace of white clay beads and a letter with an address on this island.
—It can't be! Now I understand why you were wearing the necklace of white clay beads —says Monica—, it must have belonged to an ancestor of yours.
—I don't know, but my mission is to find out.
"I'll help you," Monica suggests. "What address was on the letter?"
“Old Town 1 of Nomad Coast,” I answer.
—Ah, Old Town! It's not that far away — Monica says — It's the oldest neighborhood on the island, I'll take you there, we'll get there in no time.
“Is the letter very old?” Lena asks me. “Old Town has changed a lot from one year to the next, the address on the letter is probably not the same anymore.”
—There are some people who have lived in Old Town all their lives, someone must know something —says Monica.
Monica and I leave Tropical Lagoon and get into her car. On the way to Old Town, there is a beautiful landscape that I can see from the window. After driving a mile inland, we arrive at Old Town. This district is a harmonious and light-filled place. A stone fountain decorates the center of the square, which is surrounded by restaurants and small shops. While Monica looks for a parking space, we pass by the Nomad Coast town hall, which is a tall and imposing building.
Since I don't want Monica to miss the end of summer party, I tell her:
—Mónica, don't worry about parking, drop me off here, I'll manage as best I can.
—No, I'm going to help you find that address —Monica says.
—I insist, Monica, I'll find her —I say to her when she persists—. Go to the party, I'll get there a little later.
—Okay, but don't take too long —he says to me, as I get out of the car—. Good luck, Nomad! You can tell us later.
Before Monica leaves, last:
—Thank you for everything, Monica.
Now I am in the only place where I might find the reason for all my questions. All I have to do is ask any neighbor in Old Town for the address of the letter. However, I can't find anyone to ask. I am in what appears to be a residential area and not a murmur can be heard around here.
After walking down a lonely alley, a very short, elderly man passes by me, carrying a domesticated nomadic lark on his right shoulder as if it were a lovebird. This man does not carry a cane and is dressed in a modern way. So I approach him and ask:
—Excuse me, could you tell me where number one in Old Town is?
A slight smile appears on the old man's lips and he answers me:
“Number one in Old Town doesn’t exist,” the old man tells me, mumbling, and I am completely confused as he tells me. “But I can tell you that number one in Old Town is now a nursing home, and that’s where I come from. My nephew lives there, and since he is so kind to his people, he always helps us in any way he can.”
Without asking me if I want to hear his story, he begins to ramble on about what happened to him today, while the nomadic lark flutters its wings, lands on his head and begins to peck at his grizzled complexion.
“Excuse me, are you a nomadic lark?” I ask, interrupting his monologue.
—Yes, I domesticated her when she was still a little bird —he answers very slowly, not caring that I have cut off his long-winded speech—. I am a keen birdwatcher, my house is full of birds. If you want, you can come with me and I will show you all my little animals. Do you like birds too?
—Well, in a way, I've come to this island for the first time and I've already seen more than one nomadic lark —I answer—, but don't worry, I'm just in a hurry and I'm trying to find this address, although you did tell me that it no longer exists...
—If it helps, ask for my nephew, his name is Dallas. He's a blonde with blue eyes, he's always very busy calling people about business... He'll be able to give you the information you need about Old Town 1, he's been living there for a long time, even before the student residences were built. To get there, you'll have to follow this street forward, continue on the right and there's the town hall, you'll see a tailor-made suit shop and right in front of it you'll see the housing estate.
—Thank you very much —I conclude.
Without another word, the old man walks off in the opposite direction with very light steps. I follow what he told me and continue forward, turning right and after a few steps I come to a street next to the town hall. As the man told me, I can see the suit shop and the housing estate in the distance. However, as I continue on my way, I wonder if what I'm doing is of any use. Nomad Coast's Old Town 1 no longer exists, and perhaps what I want to find no longer exists either. Maybe it's time to give up, leave everything behind and go back to the end-of-summer party... However, now that I've come this far I can't give up, I have to try one last time.
When I arrive at the residences, I find a huge garden decorated in a very elaborate way. The smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol spreads through the garden, because there are a lot of young people drinking. Suddenly, the door at the threshold of one of the blocks opens and a young man dressed in a beach dress appears, with the phone glued to his ear, talking and not paying much attention to the revelry. He has golden hair and very expressive blue eyes. He fits perfectly with the man that the old man has described to me, perhaps it is his nephew Dallas. I go to ask him about Old Town 1, he is possibly the only person on the island who can give me some information about this blessed address. However, before I can approach him, he gets into his car and quickly drives away.
Since I haven't been able to talk to him, I approach the drinking party and ask one of the young people:
—Excuse me, do you know the boy who just came out of the door?
—I don't, but my friend surely knows who he is —he answers—, he lives here. Saul, come!
Saul, a ruddy-cheeked young man with very prominent light eyes, approaches us and asks us with a slightly French accent and stammering:
-What do you want?
"Ask about the boy who just came out of the door," he says, stammering, as he is under the influence of alcohol.
—Oh yes, Dallas! —Saul says with a big smile, with his French accent—, he's my neighbor on the first floor.
Indeed, it was Dallas, the nephew of the strange man I had passed a few moments ago.
—Well, I'm looking for him, but he left too fast, I say. Do you know where he could have gone?
—I'm probably going to the end of summer party —he tells me—. The Tropical Lagoon beach bar throws a huge party every year. We're going after now, we're waiting for some friends, are you up for the pre-party?
I can't believe it, Dallas is going to the same place I was just a few hours ago. I could have stayed there and everything would have been easier. I couldn't find Dallas in Old Town, but at least I got to visit a new neighborhood.
—Maybe another time, thanks.
I quickly leave the garden of the residence and look for a way back to the Tropical Lagoon. I have called Monica, but she doesn't pick up. She's probably already arrived at the party, so I'll have to walk back. I head quickly to the Nomad Coast beach following the directions on my mobile's GPS. Although it's a long walk, I finally reach the coast and after walking a short distance along the promenade, I arrive at the beach bar. At that moment, the sun is beginning to set, turning the sky orange. There are a lot of people at the Tropical Lagoon. The music is lively, mixing with laughter and the clinking of glasses. On the beach, people dance barefoot on the sand, celebrating the end of summer with joy. On the terrace, they enjoy the last hours sitting down having a drink while chatting or watching the sunset. I look around for Dallas, but I can't find him. I can't see Monica and her group either, the crowd doesn't let me see anything.
As I look at the bar at Tropical Lagoon, I suddenly see Dallas himself sitting on a stool sipping a cocktail after having lost sight of him in Old Town. As I approach the bar, I think about the first thing I'm going to ask him, everything I have to say to him, and all my questions about Old Town 1.
Dallas is sitting with his back turned, as I approach him with soft steps and he immediately notices my presence, turns around and looks at me strangely.
—Excuse me, are you Dallas? —I ask him with some seriousness.
—Yes, who are you? —he says to me, astonished.
“You can call me Nomad,” I answer immediately. “I wanted to ask you about Old Town 1.”
—Old Town 1, a long story... —Dallas sighs.
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