The one and only Maracas Beach. As a child growing up, I remember going almost every weekend. The drive through the mountain shows a breath taken view of the island that is imprinted in my brain. As you get to the top of the mountain, your ears begin to ring because of the altitude. That’s when you know your halfway there. Down the winding road overlooking the side of the mountain, you begin to see the coconuts trees as they line the road. The smell of the sea and the aroma from all the food huts tells you we’re here.  From Africans to Indians, Spanish to Asians dancing to the music, as they bombard the “Bake and Shark” hut. In the parking lot the music is so loud, you can’t hear the siren of the police car as it passes by. With your tired feet, and full belly, you make a mad dash for the water. Some how it rejuvenates your soul. Maybe its the salt from the water or the sand between your toes, I always leave, feeling like a new person. The one place that is a must when I go back home. It brings back many memories and good times that will last a life time.