This trip has been a lot of ups, and almost no ''downs''. That is, until yesterday.
What I'm about to describe would definitely receive zero sympathy and a smart-alec comment such as, ''here, let me play the worlds' smallest violin for you'' , or , '' now THAT is a first world problem'' , or quite possibly , ''get over it whiner'' from myself if I were to be on the other end of this trip, pouring cement in the hott sun everyday for under $20 a day, or any other long hott job that pays nothing and demands their life's precious energy and time. So I'm happy to tell you that I've already accepted life as it has occurred in the past 18 hours, and will not deliver this as a poor-me story. I'm lucky and/or blessed to have been born in the United States at their height of supremacy and reign as holder of global currency. (reading the news lately about the whole default thing ( and China's response) tells me that taking a vacation while these US dollars still exchange for a helluva lot more paper bills, was in fact, a great idea.)
Anyway, you could talk economics or politics with me day and night (you might have already) , but I don't really want to while I'm enjoying my luxuries in paradise. Or because I know it's out of my control, and probably destined to go downhill before Love and Light can restore this Heaven we have on Earth. So at this brief time in History, we're at the mercy of a teeny tiny group of ugly, psychotic politicians, who should be wearing the corporations' logos on their three piece that they really represent. ¡Harumph!
See how I get the last word in? ; )
So yeah, back to the subject at hand: a bit of crap luck. . .
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Yesterday began as any other might; waking up a half hour or two after the sun, brushing my teeth and waxing my board while the water heats up for tea. When it reaches a boil, I take off the kettle and make a couple over-easy eggs to put on a slice of our beautiful pan integral (whole wheat bread loaf). (For the time being, the cabaña has no gas, so we're using a single burner that plugs into the wall outlet.) I smash the light breakfast, pound the lemon/honey/ginger tea, and give my beautiful girlfriend a kiss and tell her to enjoy her Insanity workout, and I start my 1/2 mile jog to the main road to catch a camioneta that will take me down to the best shorebreak in the world... I could wait for the micro bus on the corner that is supposed to come every half hour, but it's as reliable as our US congress, so I enjoy the smiles of the neighbors and the cool morning temperatures. Once getting to the top of the hill, maybe a hundred yards to the main road, I see the bus pull into the road, and know by now it is more time efficient to catch the camioneta, so, ''no pasa nada'';
After my warm up run, and quick 3 minute lift down the bay, I am feeling good to stretch on the beach and watch how the sandbars are working... It appears small (overhead at best) , so I stretch longer than normal because I'm not super stoked. Then, after about 12.5 minutes, while loosening up my quads, I see a sweet set blow up two of the sandbars right in front. They are solid double overhead, and there's practically no one out! WOOO! I run from my spot in the shade under a palm tree and am paddling out within the same minute.
I'm going to spare you the details of this session, but just know that it was one of my best days at Puerto, as I caught more waves than any other day for sureski. I did blow a barrel opp, and wish I could have it back, so I'll tell ya bout it. . . . Ok so after surfing the two peaks I usually sit at, I saw a guy pull into a beautiful 10 ft tube and get bucked off at the last second, just before he came out with the spit. I paddled down to give it a go, and ended up looking at a small moving mountain coming straight at me. Dudes were whistling and I was the only one in the area to catch this small beast. I froze for a few long seconds, trying to read its' speed and direction, finally getting a bead on it and knowing i needed to kick it into gear or I'd be thrown with the lip. I got a few strong paddles in and took a long drop to the bottom , while the wave took off on me down the line. I tried to bottom turn and pull into the barrel, but it outran me and the lip detonated on my board and I was sent to the ocean floor. What i needed to do, was to pigdog the drop, grabbing outside rail and wave face, while staying high tight under the lip of the wave. A long drop and bottom turn was not the right call.
So I surfed until I couldn't paddle anymore, and went home to prepare lunch with Mackenzie. We finished off the shrimp and dorado ceviche with the last of our saltines, had a cup of coffee, and prepared some rice for the dorado filets we'd be cooking when we got back from the three hour volunteer session at the free library down the hill from our cabin.
This volunteer opportunity was pretty fun, and one that we both felt like we were actually needed for (we were volunteers in Ecuador for the first 9 weeks of our trip and it was worthless to everyone involved except the company receiving our paper money). We arrived and introduced ourselves to Tinca, a retired ex-pat whose house was finished down here in March. She volunteers on Mondays, and today (yesterday) was filling in for the normal gal that runs the program. It was slow at first, but after 30 minutes kids that had just been let off from their first day of school (teachers all over the country were protesting tax increases in Mexico City for the first 6 weeks when school would normally be in session) came strolling in 6 by 6, hollaring for Lucia or Wendy. ''No esta '' : She's not here. We'd reply. Pero, podemos leer, y jugar. But we can read and play =D
You could tell that the kids were pretty bummed and not sure what to do about their friend not being here to read or play games with them, but as it was 90 degrees out and they were still in uniform , the 5 gallon jug of water was a good ice-breaker. More and more kids came in to return books, and choose new ones. I watched as Tinca recorded in a worn down notebook who brought what back, and who was checking out different books this week. As she handled requests of six little yelling kids in a language that is still semi-new to her (she drove down here six years ago by herself, and knew not a lick of spanish beforehand), I knew i needed to help entertain some of the other energetic young'ns. I took a seat at one of the tables and told one of the youngest to pick out a book for me to read to them. This was able to keep four little ones entertained for the most part of an hour (ok I only had two of their attention for that whole time), and it took seven or eight books before I was finally able to make it all the way to the end before they had run and picked out a different book that was more important to read than the current.
Every couple books, I'd get the same question: can we play games yet? Now, I'm not one to say NO to a kid, so it was good when the dominant Tinca hollared A LAS TRES when I fielded the question for the first time. After that, the line was drawn and no one was arguing, just checking to see if it was time yet for games. Finally three o clock came, and Kenzie and my stomachs were beginning to rumble, thinking of the dorado filets that await just 3 blocks away, but we were determined to sit out the last hour with the kids and Tinca. Somehow, we were forgotten by the kids, and left to play some janga with the only padre who came to sit in during the 1-4 community library hours. It turns out that this padre is our neighbor, and the cutest kid that we were reading to is his son, Orlando.
Felix spent some time in Colorado, working at McDonalds and shovelling snow on the side. He gave it up four years ago to be back at home with family, friends, and the tropical beach lifestyle. It felt good to finally make real acquaintance with our neighbors, rather than just the friendly buenos dias, buenas tardes, o buenas noches. He is located across the path from us, (I say path because the road ends and it is a path. There are only 3 houses in our little street, and both the other two are family.) but we have a bunch of squash bushes and tropical fruit trees dividing the two, so it is hard to ever see him over there... Before we had left the cabin when we were preparing the rice and cleaning the fish Mackenzie had suggested giving some of the filets to the neighbors, since we bought over two pounds and barely used any in the ceviche Saturday. I shrugged it off at the time, knowing it was a good idea, but wanted to officially meet one of them first; so when we met Felix and little Orlando, there was no doubt they'd be eating some good fish that night.
We offered it to Felix and he told me to talk to abuela, because she does the cooking.
So an hour later, after eating our pan fried fish with garlic, onions, lemon, and half cooked tomatoes , I peaked through the fence and could make out the grandma of the house, busy washing dishes. ''ABUELA'', I called. ''Si?'' , she replied. ''I met Felix today, and we have some dorado that needs to be cooked today. We bought it 2 days ago and it's been in the refrigerator. Would you like it?'' - (in spanish of course) ''How much you want for it?'' .. ''Nothing'' I say.. ''Ah, a gift, yeah bring it over!''
I had her smell it, to make sure she thought it was ok, and she said ''claro que si''. So I was glad we didn't just eat, or gift, rotten fish. I also asked her if she had a name I could call her, or if ''grandma'' is how she wants to be greeted. ''I'm everyone's grandma around here, and it's much shorter. Yes, call me abuela.''
This is where things start to turn on me. After letting the food settle a bit by laying in a hammock reading, both Kenzie and I got our surf stuff together and walked down to the hill together. Since I had such a great session earlier in the morning, I was greedy and wanted some more of those thrilling drops and barrel opps. I promised Mackenzie that I would take her surfing the following day and the day after, since the swell would be dropping a bit, but I still had a strange feeling in my gut when we kissed goodbye.
Kenzie goes to the crowded pointbreak that is just blocks from our house, and I make the half mile walk to the road, only this time today, I'm sore as ever. During one of my wipeouts in the morning, the wave grabbed the leash and pulled really hard, yanking my left leg with it in a super uncomfortable manner. So I wasn't feeling great, and the onshore wind was still strong, but i continued to butt heads with my gut feeling.
When I was walking down the hill to the beach, I noticed for the first time that halfway down the rightside of my board there is a small ding that would allow water in. Surfing on the board would now be ignorant or stupid. So I continued to the beach. While I stretched, the waves looked like garbage. So i paddled out. The waves were chopped up from the days' onshore wind, and breaking faster than normal (which is already SOO FAST ) , and people were dropping in on each other almost every wave. I could barely make it to my feet each time I attempted, and was not feeling it, so I got out a half hour before sunset (absolutely gorgeous sunset was occurring), and went to look for Edwin the water photographer who I was supposed to meet around 6pm. I walked up to the lifeguard tower and asked for him, and they pointed to the patch of grass near the boardwalk. As i came near, I said his name and smiled. He looked right through me, and got up and walked away with a couple friends. It was weird because that morning he had recognized me in the water and come up to tell me about the picture and wanted to sell me the series or a shot. Why would he walk away from money?
I'm not one to appear needy, or desperate, so I didn't chase after him. I merely walked the opposite direction in search of a ding repair guy. The first place I came to showed me that my ding on the rail actually goes all the way through to the other rail, and has a major bump in the middle along the stringer on the topside. Their estimate was 300 pesos, but their attitudes were garbage so I didn't want to support them. I walked up the hill and caught the next truck back to la punta. I watched as the colors changed from orange and red to pink and purple, grateful to be alive and down here in paradise. I knew that the solution could be found with money, so I'm still a lucky duck. As I jumped out the the truck, I heard a horrible noise and felt the sting run through the board to my bones. I was not careful enough getting out, and now have another ding to fix on the topside of my board just under the nose. Puta .
The walk back was rough as well. My legs were chafing. All three of them. Somehow, out of all 5 boardshorts I have, only one pair has a zipper to safely hold money while i surf. These are the ones I've been wearing too much I guess. It was a long walk home.
But I finished my book last night and it was really good, and this morning since I couldn't surf I cleaned the yard like a good Latino and Mackenzie made a killer breakfast, like a good Latina does ;)
Then, I made a delicious pitcher of lemonade straight from the trees in the yard.
You get what I'm saying? Life has given me lemons! I love you all and hope that someday, everyone will have the opportunity to take two month surf vacations, or whatever kind of break from work you want. Because we weren't put here to work. We're here to live and love everyday. To make mistakes and learn lessons. To find out who will be there for us when the going gets tough.
Thanks again for loving and supporting the two of us, take care of each other.
Nico
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