Stamp of a being

When man in his mid thirties, dressed in a blue age-worn overall, an odd pink, brown and green wool hat that could perfectly combine with an art deco poster but nothing else, walks next to you leaving a trace of mud steps and the smell of seaweed, you need little time to understand what he is up to.
All along Chile, which is very long, you will find coastline. Some places with high cliffs, some others with nice flat beaches. Sometimes there will be lots of people. The place I was situated in was isolated. There is a small, non-touristic yet picturesque town close to a river delta where peasants and fisherman do their duties not expecting much of their daily routine, however if you are not from there that routine could be exactly what you were longing for.
I followed this little man through small roads, and what looked like a rundown stable that continued for a long way. You could guess that rain was on its way, but in the south of Chile rain is always on its way. When close to the river bank I asked him if I could help him fish, the baffled man just said, “Estoy marisqueando” which means “I’m picking shellfish”.
During an hour and a bit we filled two bags mixed with clams and mussels, his rubber boots were full of mud, me... I had no rubber boots, so I sank my bare feet into the mud which felt cold but good. He explained to me that due to the tides you can pick them twice a day, so if one day you have tasks to do and you miss the low tide during the morning then you have to do it in the evening, with less light and a higher chance of rain.
As a chef I wonder how he will prepare them, I was ready for a Forrest Gump-like scene where a long description of shrimp recipes would be given, but no, my friend was a man of few words. He said lemon, coriander, and bread, simple food for a simple life.
That evening he invited me over, small house, big welcome, as usual around there. We ate our dinner as he mentioned. I didn’t want to intervene and cook, I thought I might be showing off if I did.
Understanding that when you depend on the environment to get your food, and not a supermarket queue, or a restaurant, your pace will not be slower but different, it might be stress free, unless you spend most of the night playing cards and then you don’t make it to the morning low tide.
Sometimes when cooking gets complicated, I remember what a friend used to say about food “Simple food is the best food” true words, and someone else adds “Simple food for a simple life”.