After some interesting and unintentionally exciting travels, we’ve arrived at another of our destinations. Never having been here before, and not being sure of our accommodations, I tried to be prepared for anything between First World and Third World conditions. That turned out to be rather wise.

The area is a resort-type community on the coast, and is a relatively unknown destination at present; it is, however, in the process of being discovered. The natural beauty of this place is striking—verdant mountains gently slope to the sea, whose waters are clear and usually calm. As the town we’re staying in is attracting more visitors, signs of growth and investment are not uncommon. Yet many individuals remain in abject poverty, with very little property and few prospects for improving their condition. Many families appear to subsist largely on what they can grow on their land, and accordingly, most of their property is devoted to growing crops—but without the benefit of soil improvement or weeding to help improve yields.

Animal husbandry is also common, apparently. But with most families’ small bits of land given over to crops, where do animals graze or forage? The answer, as best I have been able to determine, is anywhere they can. What that means is that in this developing resort town (and throughout the area, really), cattle have the run of the place. Anywhere not fenced in—and even in some areas that are fenced—is regularly taken over by cattle trying desperately to get enough food to survive. This happens even—or perhaps I should say “especially”—at the beach. And of course, the end product of their grazing litters the entire landscape. No one seems to mind.

Similarly, the beach is an extended trash heap, mostly concentrated into lines by tide and wave. Broken glass, discarded or forgotten items of clothing, and even the stereotypical hypodermic needles and syringes can be encountered—actually, not just on the beach, but almost anywhere. Remnants of old buildings, too, are apparently just left in whatever state they were discarded: empty buildings, heaps of demolished rubble, and worn foundations clutter the scene. People seem to build around such ruin, rather than reclaim the land. I haven’t been able to determine if the locals notice the contrast between the lush growth in the mountains just beyond the town and the sparse plant life within it, let alone how their actions help perpetuate the difference. In stark contrast to this mess, the water is potable, and in all my samplings here, has been very good—better than many American cities’ water. How that is accomplished I simply cannot guess.

And it became clear that the people are not entirely unaware of the state of their surroundings. When it became known in town that a group of Americans was visiting, I noticed a few women started working to clean up the area around our location. Perhaps that was a coincidence, but the specificity of the location and timing lead me to suspect otherwise. It also leads me to wonder how individuals can care about appearances for others’ sakes, rather than for their own or their childrens’.

Despite the largely writ tragedy of the commons around us, I have become enchanted by this place. Its natural beauty and strong potential entice me. Mostly, though, the hope and resolve of the young people I have spoken with have deeply impressed me. I don’t think I can rightly claim that most of them are libertarian, but they see the problems facing them and want to address them somehow. Contrasted with the ignorance and apathy I have encountered in the USSA, it is refreshing and inspiring.