Fishing in the Wind

The Rio de la Plata was as calm as ever this past Saturday afternoon. The waves quietly absorbed the sun´s beaming rays and the pigeons circled overhead, their black bodies flying in and out of the radius of the sun and creating a scene that was neither "typical" nor unique. I´ve come to realize, I think, that people, places, and ideas are becoming cada vez mas less "typical". As I strolled along Rio de la Plata, lined up against the stone wall that overlooked the river were tribes of fisherman. Tribes in the sense that the fisherman were clearly distinct from one another; some were children not tall enough to set their hands on the ledge of the 4 foot tall stonewall; some were women sleeping under makeshift umbrellas; some were fathers explaining to their impatient toddler children why the fishing rod wasn´t moving; some were alone, sitting on a lawnchair next to their camp, cap pulled over their face, trying to shield the heat. The heat was keeping the fish at bay. The wind also gusted powerfully. The wind was also keeping the fish at bay. Given such unattractive forces, why keep fishing? Why not trade in an afternoon of endless waiting, suspense, and sunburn for an afternoon in the shadows of the shade and drinking mate? The images that I saw time and time again as I moved along the Rio de la Plata that afternoon were not "typical" given the unfavorable conditions for fishing. If, for a moment, we venture outside of our "typical" zones, it will become cada vez mas clear that little of what we see, and how we perceive what we see, remains "typical". It is the atypical scenes-those that confuse us, and those that make us think twice-that feed the curiosity which keeps us exploring, engaging, and experimenting with a beautiful array of landscapes, ideas and individuals.