Is it a fish? A little shrimp? A jellyfish? No, no, it's trash. It's a plastic bag that was half buried and heaved in and out as waves lazily breathed on shore.
We had driven to the tippety tip of the island of Providenciales in Turks and Caicos. Down a long, windy, one lane trail (I wouldn't call it even a road) we found North West Marine National Park. The name says it all. The resorts disappeared as bushy shrubs and cacti took over. The trueness of the island showed it's hot, dry face.
Although we were miles from where any human lived or resorts resided, the huge garbage of the ocean left indications of humans ugliness washed up and scattered along shore.
Provo has a landfill dug out of the white, chalky limestone in the interior of the island. Although development began fifty years ago, they are just beginning the planning stages for recycling. With an overwhelming abundance of sunlight and wind, it is astounding to me that an island wish such limited "resources," including space to put trash, it is hard to understand why the resorts have not taken further advantage of sun and wind power.
I'm slightly embarrassed to say that without the trash washed up on the shore, I wouldn't have felt that I was in a foreign, developing country. I suppose everything can be romantic...
Either way, whenever I see litter and garbage strewn about, a song my Uncle Tom used to sing dances around in my head, "Filling up the streets with garbage, garbage, garbage, garbage..."