Heading up from the beach, I saw a column of smoke rising. Before crossing the dunes, putting my shoes on, I heard men’s voices. Getting to the road, I saw a blazing, untended fire not far from one of the flammable garbage containers.

Twenty meters further, a woman backed out of her driveway, stopped by me and said ¡Que horrible! I asked her who did it. Los jardineros. But there’s nobody here, I replied. It appears that the gardeners who had been working nearby piled up the brush, lit it on fire, and left for the day.

I’ve mentioned this behavior before, but this is a little extreme.

But hey, it was time to go home.