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I hate change as much as the next guy - I remember Penasco as it was in 1948, a tiny fishing village with the most beautiful beaches in the world and low tides that uncovered wonderful treasurers of the sea. I never wanted it to change. But like all things it did. And somehow the changes seemed right. The town expanded and more people found a livelihood here - more tourists came down and fell in love with the soft sands and crystal blue seas. They didn't remember it when water was hauled in by truck, when there was only one telephone in town and no TV. Internet wasn't something that one connected with Penasco. People spent their days lazing on the warm sands, floating on the tepid seas, drinking a cold Corona.
More people came and they brought thier toys with them. ATVs and Rhinos now raced across the sands. People discovered the golf courses. The Internet came to town so it was easier to keep in touch. Lost was the simplicity of the old days but something new and exciting had taken its place. Just like in the States, progress keeps pace whether we will it or not.
Now a Home Cruise Port is coming to Penasco - the first to be built in Mexico. There are those who are protesting the change - mostly tourist who can go home to their electronic toys, multiple choices of stores to shop in, comforts that they have gotten so used to. And then you have those that live here. They see the creation of jobs, of money funneling into their town which will provide improved schools and opportunities for their families. For them the change is good.
New people will come and discover the pristine beautify that surrounds us in desert starkness and shimmering sea. They will watch dolphins at play and the rare whale from the terrace. The will marvel at the sunrise and sunset as they bathe the sea in red glory. Years from now they too will probably protest change - wanting it to stay the same as when they found it. But change always comes. One just hopes that is is good change and of benefit to many.
In the meantime I look out at the changes before me and I still see it as it was the first time we drove down from Arizona in 1948 - a small dusty little Mexican fishing village with the greatest people in the world to greet us and call us Amigos.