I started out tonight thinking I was going to write about language and my experience living in a very multicultural town where there are more languages spoken than I could ever hope to learn. I was going to write about how it affects my life, how different it is, and so on. I've been thinking about it for a while, but now that I'm sitting here, it's not what my mind is on. It will have to wait. Tonight I've been thinking a lot about things I left behind; things I miss and miss doing. At the same time I'm aware of all of the things that I love about where I am and what I'm doing now. Part of me is wanting to go into engineer/problem solver mode and tally them all up in columns, assign numbers, maybe invent some weighted point system to determine whether I'm breaking even or not. I'm glad that this thought makes me laugh. I'm pretty sure at some point in my life that would have seemed like a sane, logical, and perfectly responsible thing to do. Now it's just a bit of self deprecating humor that makes me feel a little better when I'm starting to feel the need to fix things.So instead of categorizing the things I have, the things I had and so on and so forth, I'm going to take a few minutes to write about the things that I like. Pure and simple. Some I have now, some I'll have to wait to have again some day, some aren't things you actually have or do, they just are.
1) I like being uncomfortable. Seriously. I like being pushed beyond my comfort zone; challenged, scared. It doesn't matter if it's physical, mental, emotional. It's not always pretty, but I can honestly say the best days of my life, the ones most worth living, have been the ones on which I was scared shitless at some point. I admit that sometimes it's just for the adrenaline rush, but there's more to it than that. I like finding my limits, or more often than not finding I underestimated them. I always feel like I know myself a little better afterward and for someone with my particular issues, that's a very nice feeling.
2) I like sports. Partly this ties into the first thing I listed, but it's also about the people and the settings. I love being outdoors or even at the gym sharing something I love with other people who appreciate it. Whether it's climbing, surfing, mountain biking, running, snowboarding, or pick-up team sports I enjoy spending the time. Of course I also like sweating like a pig, getting my heart racing, and ending the day physically exhausted. I like being fit and strong. It makes me feel capable, gives me confidence, and gives me one solid thing to fall back on when other things in life are uncertain or I just need a win.
3) I like sleeping. Particularly when it's cold and or raining, and preferably with a lot of blankets. My 8 years of University and all-nighters made this a pretty obvious one. It's easy to identify things you miss. This one could easily segue into some rated R likes, but I"ll keep it to the fact that waking up next to someone can really top a good sleep off. Unless of course it's New Years day at a frat house after a few too many drinks (I only remember making it to 3...) and your friends are pulling a prank on you, in which case waking up next someone is a good way to have a heart attack. But you know what I meant.
4) I like lightening bugs. I don't care where I am or what my day has been like, they always make me happy. It's just a little bit of magic. (Yeah I know how it works and can write the chemical formula for the reaction, but it's still magic.) Coincidentally luciérnaga (firefly) is also my favorite Spanish word.
5) I like stripper boots. Knee high, black leather, preferably with platforms and a stiletto heel. The higher the better. And yes I can walk in them. And dance. They're also one of the few things I actually enjoy shopping for. If I'm really honest about it I kind of have a thing for shoes in general. It's my one really stereotypically feminine vice I guess. I think the stripper boots balances out the fact that almost all of the rest of them are specific to some sport or another.
6) I like dancing. With said boots or not. Alone, on stage, or out with friends. It doesn't really matter.
7) I like music. I'm not much of a musician. I played clarinet in the middle school band and that's about the extent of it. I'm not a bad singer, but I suppose that could just be my opinion. I have a tendency to go for periods without listening to anything, often when I'm struggling with something emotionally. I tend to use music to control my emotions and as a result I listen to a lot of things. You'll find everything from latin rap to James Taylor to 80s rock, Old Crow, and peruvian pan-pipes on my playlist. Mostly you will find Linkin Park. And never, ever, under any circumstances pop country. Songs about dead dogs, rusted pick up trucks, and drunk ex-boyfriends do not elicit anything but my gag reflex.
8) I like beer. I don't drink much anymore, but a good cold microbrew is a great thing. Especially if it's wheat and shared with friends after a long day on the rock wall or some other adventure.
9) I love the outdoors. I grew up on the Great Lakes and in the Rockies and have traveled all over the U.S. Now I live on the Pacific ocean in the jungles of Costa Rica. I never get tired of seeing new places outdoors. My mesa back in Golden will always have a special place in my heart though, no matter what spectacular places I visit.
10) I like teaching. I really enjoy sharing my enthusiasm for things I enjoy doing. I've taught surfing, climbing, wrestling. I've also been a tutor and while teaching pre-algebra may sound like the world's worst way to spend a day, I have to say that having a girl who started out thinking math was something she would never need and hated leave my lessons excited to show her mom how she uses formulas every day is a really great feeling.
11) I like grilling. Food should be cooked over an open flame. Period. If said food is turkey, asparagus, and sweet corn and the flame is somewhere in the vicinity of Maybee, MI, all the better. Oh, and Barbeque sauce. I really like barbeque sauce.
12) I like building things. Or fixing things. More accurately I like Jerry-rigging things from whatever pile of crap I have on hand. I also like taking things apart, but that's usually just so I can figure out how it was made so I can either make it better, or so I can steal parts for something else. On a related note I really really like tools. It's very satisfying to have the right tools for a job and incredibly irritating when I can't do a simple task myself because I don't. I'm pretty well known for trying to do it anyway with whatever I have on hand, resulting in blood and broken parts more often than not. I definitely like tools.
13) I like mud. maybe it comes from growing up in a rainy state like Michigan, but there's nothing quite like going for a run in the rain and coming back filthy. Maybe it's just the feeling of giving up on trying to be careful and stay dry and clean that I like; the permission to make a mess.
14) I like performing. Whether it's dancing, public speaking, or acting, I enjoy being on the spot in front of an audience. Usually anyway.
15) I like playing 20 questions. Maybe more accurately I like getting to know people and getting beyond the polite and mundane. I like being real and seeing people without the pretenses. I also like people who are blunt, abrasive, and borderline offensive. And dirty jokes. I guess this item could also be titled 'I don't like PC', but I'm going with the affirmative on this one. And yes there is someone out there who understands this one. Someone other than me. I swear.
16) I like tattoos. As a general thing. There are a lot of bad tattoos out there, but even a bad tattoo can be interesting. I don't have any myself, bad or good, but I'm working on that.
17) I like heights. Always have. If there's a big tree or a rock in my general vicinity I will feel a compulsion to climb it. If there is a 3000 foot sheer cliff nearby I will go stand at the edge. It's not a death wish really, it's more a sense of mortality. The only heights that scare me are then mid range ones. The ones that you would probably survive falling from, but would leave you disabled for life. So I'm not scared of heights really. It's the inability to use my body anymore that gets me.
I also like prime numbers, which seems like a good enough reason to stop at 17 to me. I could keep going but things are starting to get either too obscure or specific and some are seeming like they're repeats. That and I'm tired and ready to get some sleep before an early surf tomorrow. Did I mention I like morning surf sessions? Hopefully this was more fun to read than the table and scoring system I was considering earlier.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Sunday, July 8, 2012
A Different Kind of Life
It has been a long time since I have written. Sorry about that. I am still living in Costa Rica. I've picked up a few more jobs, learned a lot, and lived a lot. I've learned that I don't have to force things or fight all of the time. It is possible for things to work out without that level of anxiety. That doesn't mean that things take care of themselves, only that I cannot hurry them along by stressing and worrying. If I am doing the work to be prepared, if I am watching and talking to people, if I am exploring actively, the opportunities show up. They don't do it on my time and they are rarely exactly what I was looking for. Sometimes they are better. Sometimes good enough. Sometimes they don't fit at all but they are a means to an end or a stop-gap. Where I run into trouble is the situations where I mentally have no flexibility in what I am looking for. Looking for perfect doesn't work. Looking for yes or no, black or white, have or have not... Those are the the things that leave me frustrated and disappointed. True to my new surfer girl life, I can think of no better metaphor than this: If you go out surfing with the image of the perfect wave, looking for that specific wave, you will never find what you are looking for. You will never get exactly that one left-hand bomb with the perfect shape, just the right speed, and the clean, glassy face held up by a light off-shore breeze. And if you are attached to the idea of riding that one wave, you will be disappointed, even if just a little, by every other wave out there. Anyone who surfs knows that a good surf day is what you make of it. You learn to ride it all, left, right, mushy, pitching, blown out, stormy, small, big, open, or closed out, because the more you can ride, the better and the more joy there is to be had on any given day.
To get you up to speed, in the past few months since I have written I have accumulated at least 4 jobs and counting. I don't always break even, especially now that the tourism has slowed down. I teach surf lessons every chance I get. I have a talent for it apparently, or so my students say. Actually so say my employers and even some of the locals who have just watched me teaching. This is good because I love teaching. I get a lot of repeat customers too which is the best since it give me a chance to really be a part of people's surfing experience and I feel like I've really given them something of value. I also teach math lessons here. While it may not sound as exciting as spending a few hours in the surf on a beautiful beach teaching people to ride, I have to admit it feels really good to work with a girl who had decided math just wasn't for her and to suddenly have her not only excelling at it, but being excited and curious about new topics as well.
I also work at a surf shop, mostly just manning the counter, helping people pick out their new stick, waxing up rental boards, arguing about prices... (I am so not used to prices being negotiable, and I don't own the shop so quit asking me!) The owner of the shop is a talented local board shaper and for who knows what reason when I asked him if he'd teach me he agreed to show me the ropes. I've started the process doing ding repair, meaning I am learning to work with epoxy and poly foam boards, patch fiberglass and sand the repairs back into the original shape. It's dusty, messy work and there is something inherently nerve-wracking about going at someone's several hundred dollar chunk of glass covered foam with an electric sander, but I love it. I've always liked working with my hands, so it's not a bad fit for me at all. I've just started doing boards for paying customers and I have to admit I'm still a little scared when people show up to pick up their boards, and then relieved when they are happy with them. I've gotten a lot better, but I still oversand, end up with air bubbles in the resin, or don't quite get the resin-wax-catalyst ratio right and have to retouch or even redo steps. Like my surfing though, it gets better every time and I feel good about the process (most of the time).
I feel like I'm building a life here. I have opportunities I doubt I could have hoped for back in the States and definitely wasn't finding in Michigan. I love the community here. Above all I love the surfing. I've had so many sports and activities in my life that I enjoyed, but nothing has come close to what surfing has been for me. There is so much here that feels right for me, but at the same time I'm incredibly torn. You see, I've always been a huge believer that the people in our lives make the difference; that it is always the people and not the place that make a life or an experience rich and happy. I still believe that, but I find myself looking at a life that I love, that feels so much better than it has for years, but that centers around a small remote surf town in Costa Rica while the most important person in my life, my best friend, and the person I have loved more than anyone else is back in Michigan for the foreseeable, long term future.
I feel like I've been given a box of jigsaw pieces that come from two different puzzles and they won't fit together no matter how badly I want them to match up. For months I've been cycling between ignoring it and hoping something comes up to make it work and feeling like I have to choose and struggling with the guilt that I selfishly do not want to leave what I have here. I worry knowing that if I were to go back I would be doing it knowing that I would be trading a lifestyle that I love with good people, work I find fulfilling (but not lucrative enough to afford to make the trips to sustain a long distance relationship long term), opportunities to learn and do things I'm interested in, and far more freedom in almost every aspect of life than I had stateside, for a single, incredible person. I don't want to place the burden of my happiness on one person like that. I truly believe that that cannot be sustainable no matter how strong the relationship is. And I don't want to hurt him or mislead him. I don't know what I am doing or where life is taking me and he deserves better than to be strung along indefinitely. I want him to be happy and I know that I can't do that for him right now. I don't know if I ever will. I do hope that someday I will be at a point in my life that I can. Maybe if I am incredibly lucky he will still be there when I am. I hope he knows that I love him even though I'm not able to show it like I want to now. I don't know how to live in two worlds, but I don't know how to choose between them either.
To get you up to speed, in the past few months since I have written I have accumulated at least 4 jobs and counting. I don't always break even, especially now that the tourism has slowed down. I teach surf lessons every chance I get. I have a talent for it apparently, or so my students say. Actually so say my employers and even some of the locals who have just watched me teaching. This is good because I love teaching. I get a lot of repeat customers too which is the best since it give me a chance to really be a part of people's surfing experience and I feel like I've really given them something of value. I also teach math lessons here. While it may not sound as exciting as spending a few hours in the surf on a beautiful beach teaching people to ride, I have to admit it feels really good to work with a girl who had decided math just wasn't for her and to suddenly have her not only excelling at it, but being excited and curious about new topics as well.
I also work at a surf shop, mostly just manning the counter, helping people pick out their new stick, waxing up rental boards, arguing about prices... (I am so not used to prices being negotiable, and I don't own the shop so quit asking me!) The owner of the shop is a talented local board shaper and for who knows what reason when I asked him if he'd teach me he agreed to show me the ropes. I've started the process doing ding repair, meaning I am learning to work with epoxy and poly foam boards, patch fiberglass and sand the repairs back into the original shape. It's dusty, messy work and there is something inherently nerve-wracking about going at someone's several hundred dollar chunk of glass covered foam with an electric sander, but I love it. I've always liked working with my hands, so it's not a bad fit for me at all. I've just started doing boards for paying customers and I have to admit I'm still a little scared when people show up to pick up their boards, and then relieved when they are happy with them. I've gotten a lot better, but I still oversand, end up with air bubbles in the resin, or don't quite get the resin-wax-catalyst ratio right and have to retouch or even redo steps. Like my surfing though, it gets better every time and I feel good about the process (most of the time).
I feel like I'm building a life here. I have opportunities I doubt I could have hoped for back in the States and definitely wasn't finding in Michigan. I love the community here. Above all I love the surfing. I've had so many sports and activities in my life that I enjoyed, but nothing has come close to what surfing has been for me. There is so much here that feels right for me, but at the same time I'm incredibly torn. You see, I've always been a huge believer that the people in our lives make the difference; that it is always the people and not the place that make a life or an experience rich and happy. I still believe that, but I find myself looking at a life that I love, that feels so much better than it has for years, but that centers around a small remote surf town in Costa Rica while the most important person in my life, my best friend, and the person I have loved more than anyone else is back in Michigan for the foreseeable, long term future.
I feel like I've been given a box of jigsaw pieces that come from two different puzzles and they won't fit together no matter how badly I want them to match up. For months I've been cycling between ignoring it and hoping something comes up to make it work and feeling like I have to choose and struggling with the guilt that I selfishly do not want to leave what I have here. I worry knowing that if I were to go back I would be doing it knowing that I would be trading a lifestyle that I love with good people, work I find fulfilling (but not lucrative enough to afford to make the trips to sustain a long distance relationship long term), opportunities to learn and do things I'm interested in, and far more freedom in almost every aspect of life than I had stateside, for a single, incredible person. I don't want to place the burden of my happiness on one person like that. I truly believe that that cannot be sustainable no matter how strong the relationship is. And I don't want to hurt him or mislead him. I don't know what I am doing or where life is taking me and he deserves better than to be strung along indefinitely. I want him to be happy and I know that I can't do that for him right now. I don't know if I ever will. I do hope that someday I will be at a point in my life that I can. Maybe if I am incredibly lucky he will still be there when I am. I hope he knows that I love him even though I'm not able to show it like I want to now. I don't know how to live in two worlds, but I don't know how to choose between them either.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Oddly No Means No In Spanish Too...
At the risk of ranting, I'm going to write about a particular issue I seem to encounter every time I leave the house in Costa Rica: Men. I don't mean that in some feminist, war of the sexes type way. Anyone who knows me knows that's not my style. Back home I've always been just one of the guys. Most of my closest friends are men. I find them easier to get along with and more likely to enjoy the same things I do than most girls. I have girlfriends too of course, but I seem to find fewer I really connect with. I enjoy the banter and the bluntness I receive from my guy friends. I can give them shit and know I won't offend them and that they will do the same. And yeah, I'm sure that there's a little underlying sexual tension with a lot of them that keeps things interesting, but it's exactly that, underlying. I'm not uncomfortable. I don't have to worry that I'm being a tease by simply being me. I like to be able to go out for a beer or dinner with a friend without having to fucking explain that I don't want to sleep with them or trying to figure out how to let them down firmly, but without offending.
Here in CR, I guess I just can't hang out with most of the local guys. Even telling them I have a boyfriend doesn't work. It almost makes it worse. 'I have a boyfriend' here seems to mean 'Hey you can fuck me with no commitment whatsoever'. Most of them seem to have girlfriends somewhere in the world and just don't care much for the monogamy thing. The lines I've heard about just being free and having fun could probably be used for a whole series of corny pornos. (Is it rude that I can't help but burst out laughing? If it is consider me an ass.) . And if one more person tells me I'm traditional I'm going to choke them, and not in the way they're after.
It would be easier if these guys were all frat boy inspired assholes, but they aren't. I don't know what the difference is here. Maybe back home I did a better job of intimidating guys into thinking they had no chance so they didn't push their luck. Maybe I should wear more clothing here (it's f*ing hot, I shouldn't have to wear a shirt and pants). Or maybe it's just cultural (Worst excuse ever). Yes, it's a bit flattering sometimes when I can't go out without guys hollering at me or watching and whistling as I walk by. It is amusing for sure. I'm not a timid person. Like anyone I can appreciate a bit of attention. I'm not naive, and I am far from the traditional girl I keep being accused of being. But it gets old, especially when it's someone I know well enough to think we are friends. I get tired of having to constantly draw the lines every time I see them. I'm not saying no because I think I should. I'm saying no because I'm not attracted to you, because I have no desire to sleep with you, because the only thing you know about me is that you think I'm beautiful and I couldn't care less. And I shouldn't have to expalin that too you. You talk about just having fun? Telling someone you like enough to want to hang out that you dno't find them remotely sexually attractive is not fun. If I'm so great why isn't it enough to just spend some time. I don't understand why me being attractive means I want to go home with you or that no means try harder. You are not helping me get out of my own way. I'm not in my own way. You're just not what I want. Nor do I want to pick up whatever disease you got from the last 5 insecure, gullible chicks your crap worked on. I am not just a pretty face. I deserve better than someone who sees me as that.
Sometimes I swear I'm being paranoid or vain, but I have yet to be wrong. At least I'm not insecure and naive. This place makes short work of those girls. I guess the best way to look at it is as another sort of adventure. We will see how many egos I hurt and how many times I pass on an invite to go out when I'm lonely. It's something I need to learn anyway. Nobody could ever claim that no isn't in my vocabulary, that's for damn sure.
Here in CR, I guess I just can't hang out with most of the local guys. Even telling them I have a boyfriend doesn't work. It almost makes it worse. 'I have a boyfriend' here seems to mean 'Hey you can fuck me with no commitment whatsoever'. Most of them seem to have girlfriends somewhere in the world and just don't care much for the monogamy thing. The lines I've heard about just being free and having fun could probably be used for a whole series of corny pornos. (Is it rude that I can't help but burst out laughing? If it is consider me an ass.) . And if one more person tells me I'm traditional I'm going to choke them, and not in the way they're after.
It would be easier if these guys were all frat boy inspired assholes, but they aren't. I don't know what the difference is here. Maybe back home I did a better job of intimidating guys into thinking they had no chance so they didn't push their luck. Maybe I should wear more clothing here (it's f*ing hot, I shouldn't have to wear a shirt and pants). Or maybe it's just cultural (Worst excuse ever). Yes, it's a bit flattering sometimes when I can't go out without guys hollering at me or watching and whistling as I walk by. It is amusing for sure. I'm not a timid person. Like anyone I can appreciate a bit of attention. I'm not naive, and I am far from the traditional girl I keep being accused of being. But it gets old, especially when it's someone I know well enough to think we are friends. I get tired of having to constantly draw the lines every time I see them. I'm not saying no because I think I should. I'm saying no because I'm not attracted to you, because I have no desire to sleep with you, because the only thing you know about me is that you think I'm beautiful and I couldn't care less. And I shouldn't have to expalin that too you. You talk about just having fun? Telling someone you like enough to want to hang out that you dno't find them remotely sexually attractive is not fun. If I'm so great why isn't it enough to just spend some time. I don't understand why me being attractive means I want to go home with you or that no means try harder. You are not helping me get out of my own way. I'm not in my own way. You're just not what I want. Nor do I want to pick up whatever disease you got from the last 5 insecure, gullible chicks your crap worked on. I am not just a pretty face. I deserve better than someone who sees me as that.
Sometimes I swear I'm being paranoid or vain, but I have yet to be wrong. At least I'm not insecure and naive. This place makes short work of those girls. I guess the best way to look at it is as another sort of adventure. We will see how many egos I hurt and how many times I pass on an invite to go out when I'm lonely. It's something I need to learn anyway. Nobody could ever claim that no isn't in my vocabulary, that's for damn sure.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Faith and the Art of Winging It
It seems like most of my life I have been surrounded by people who were going places and doing great things. My father impressed upon me at a young age that one must always have goals and be relentless in pursuing them. He taught this by example more than anything and I spent much of my life struggling to live up to that standard and to achieve, achieve, achieve. My father taught me to be methodical; always having a plan and definite steps to take to reach my goals. Going to engineering school was more of the same. I learned to organize these things even more with project deliverables, Gantt charts breaking projects into phases and tasks with specific timetables and carefully ordered execution, bills of materials, and on and on and on. My life had about as much spontaneity and energy as a line of computer code. I was efficient, I achieved a lot. I have the resume to show it (and I have to leave half of it out because it won't fit on one page*).
When I reached the end of all of the preparation, completing both of my degrees with honors, earning awards and recognition for my projects and papers, I realized I had made several major mistakes. For all of my planning and hard work, I missed what was probably the most important step. I had not taken the time to find out what I wanted. I had done all of that work with no real idea of what my goal was and I had plowed through all of those years, filling them to the brim with tasks and work, that I found myself at the end with no idea of where I was or where to go next. My second mistake was that I had allowed myself to fall prey to the idea that all I had to do to get the job of my dreams, was to work hard and do my best in College etc. I did not take into account factors like the economy crashing, the possibility that I would not like traditional engineering jobs, or the simple fact that life isn't fair and it is very often a matter of who you know and not what you know or have done that will get you a job.
To give myself some credit, I realized these things a few years ago, maybe sooner, but had no idea what to do with them as I was already around 4 years into my degree program. The idea of taking time off to reassess things and the possibility of realizing that I might want to abandon my path and waste the time and money spent was too much. And all of it conflicted with the values I'd grown up working to achieve. When I finished my first degree I signed on for the second largely because I had nowhere to go, no job, no destination, and I was stalling for time to figure things out. I had started spending time with a a different group of people, mostly climbers and friends outside of the Engineering lifestyle. These were people who had lived and thought about things far differently than my family. They essentially worked to live as opposed to living to work. They were people I loved and respected, but they didn't fit into the narrow minded ideal of 'success' that I had been indoctrinated into. In retrospect I think that I will look back years from now and know that these people saved my life by planting the idea that I had other options.
I spent my last year of college working at a gear shop, spending all of my time at the local climbing gym, joining my friends in all sorts of outdoor adventure sports, and hanging out and working with my best friend helping with every sort of project you could imagine from planting agarden to refinishing a log cabin, cutting down trees, and even a bit of motorcycle maintenance. I found myself surrounded by people who were doing things and going places and doing it in a way that I had been told was irresponsible. In my family one didn't take a semester off to travel or take a break between degrees. You certainly didn't do things like booking a flight to Costa Rica, leaving everything behind, without a job or a plan. Yet here I am.
When I made the decision to leave, all I really knew was that I had no idea what I was in for. A good friend of mine has told me often that when you put things out to the world, it has a way of bringing things back to you. I tried that a bit before I left and found that it might be true. Costa Rica to that was a bit like dipping your toe in the river to check the temperature and then throwing yourself off the 50 foot waterfall downstream. My friend is always right though. Things have worked out. Since I have been here I was 'rescued' from the red-light district of San Jose and found myself on an incredible tour of the rural areas of CR where I got to see people and things no tourist would have ever gotten to experience. I stumbled upon one of the most incredible and little known surfing Meccas in CR chasing after a lead the same friend had drummed up for me before I left the state. At the hostel i stayed at the first week I met JP who became one of my best friends here and my roommate and surf buddy. A friend of a friend introduced me to Luis who I now rent a room from, and who constantly teaches me things about CR and surfing, and who shows up at the oddest times with exactly what I needed (a bike, a possible job). I got a job as a surf instructor through a friend, found a surf board shaper who is now asking me to work at his shop and might teach me how to shape. I got nominated for a modeling contest and found a photographer here through my surfing contacts. I couldn't plan any of this if I tried.
I haven't made a plan in months and yet here I am. I have an incredible job where I get to work with interesting people, I get to be outside, I get paid to surf! It is the most rewarding thing I have done in a long time and it's supporting me being out here. (Well mostly, I do dip into the savings now and then, but that's what they are for right?) I have a place to stay with good friends. I have opportunities to pursue. And above all I am having fun every day. The anxiety I lived with day in and day out is mostly gone. My life feels not only manageable, but enjoyable. And it is all completely out of my control; unplanned, unforced, unpredictable. I love that. I love the spontaneity and the fact that I can have faith that things will work out. I've never had that before. At the risk of overusing my surfing metaphors, I feel like I did when I realized that I couldn't plan taking a wave. I had to ride what I was given and react. I can't fight the ocean and win anymore than I can fight life and change it. Years ago that would have been terrifying for me; realizing I wasn't in control. Now it's a relief. There's a sense of freedom in it and a excitement and anticipation of taking on the challenge of taking what comes to me and riding it and seeing where I end up.
When I reached the end of all of the preparation, completing both of my degrees with honors, earning awards and recognition for my projects and papers, I realized I had made several major mistakes. For all of my planning and hard work, I missed what was probably the most important step. I had not taken the time to find out what I wanted. I had done all of that work with no real idea of what my goal was and I had plowed through all of those years, filling them to the brim with tasks and work, that I found myself at the end with no idea of where I was or where to go next. My second mistake was that I had allowed myself to fall prey to the idea that all I had to do to get the job of my dreams, was to work hard and do my best in College etc. I did not take into account factors like the economy crashing, the possibility that I would not like traditional engineering jobs, or the simple fact that life isn't fair and it is very often a matter of who you know and not what you know or have done that will get you a job.
To give myself some credit, I realized these things a few years ago, maybe sooner, but had no idea what to do with them as I was already around 4 years into my degree program. The idea of taking time off to reassess things and the possibility of realizing that I might want to abandon my path and waste the time and money spent was too much. And all of it conflicted with the values I'd grown up working to achieve. When I finished my first degree I signed on for the second largely because I had nowhere to go, no job, no destination, and I was stalling for time to figure things out. I had started spending time with a a different group of people, mostly climbers and friends outside of the Engineering lifestyle. These were people who had lived and thought about things far differently than my family. They essentially worked to live as opposed to living to work. They were people I loved and respected, but they didn't fit into the narrow minded ideal of 'success' that I had been indoctrinated into. In retrospect I think that I will look back years from now and know that these people saved my life by planting the idea that I had other options.
I spent my last year of college working at a gear shop, spending all of my time at the local climbing gym, joining my friends in all sorts of outdoor adventure sports, and hanging out and working with my best friend helping with every sort of project you could imagine from planting agarden to refinishing a log cabin, cutting down trees, and even a bit of motorcycle maintenance. I found myself surrounded by people who were doing things and going places and doing it in a way that I had been told was irresponsible. In my family one didn't take a semester off to travel or take a break between degrees. You certainly didn't do things like booking a flight to Costa Rica, leaving everything behind, without a job or a plan. Yet here I am.
When I made the decision to leave, all I really knew was that I had no idea what I was in for. A good friend of mine has told me often that when you put things out to the world, it has a way of bringing things back to you. I tried that a bit before I left and found that it might be true. Costa Rica to that was a bit like dipping your toe in the river to check the temperature and then throwing yourself off the 50 foot waterfall downstream. My friend is always right though. Things have worked out. Since I have been here I was 'rescued' from the red-light district of San Jose and found myself on an incredible tour of the rural areas of CR where I got to see people and things no tourist would have ever gotten to experience. I stumbled upon one of the most incredible and little known surfing Meccas in CR chasing after a lead the same friend had drummed up for me before I left the state. At the hostel i stayed at the first week I met JP who became one of my best friends here and my roommate and surf buddy. A friend of a friend introduced me to Luis who I now rent a room from, and who constantly teaches me things about CR and surfing, and who shows up at the oddest times with exactly what I needed (a bike, a possible job). I got a job as a surf instructor through a friend, found a surf board shaper who is now asking me to work at his shop and might teach me how to shape. I got nominated for a modeling contest and found a photographer here through my surfing contacts. I couldn't plan any of this if I tried.
I haven't made a plan in months and yet here I am. I have an incredible job where I get to work with interesting people, I get to be outside, I get paid to surf! It is the most rewarding thing I have done in a long time and it's supporting me being out here. (Well mostly, I do dip into the savings now and then, but that's what they are for right?) I have a place to stay with good friends. I have opportunities to pursue. And above all I am having fun every day. The anxiety I lived with day in and day out is mostly gone. My life feels not only manageable, but enjoyable. And it is all completely out of my control; unplanned, unforced, unpredictable. I love that. I love the spontaneity and the fact that I can have faith that things will work out. I've never had that before. At the risk of overusing my surfing metaphors, I feel like I did when I realized that I couldn't plan taking a wave. I had to ride what I was given and react. I can't fight the ocean and win anymore than I can fight life and change it. Years ago that would have been terrifying for me; realizing I wasn't in control. Now it's a relief. There's a sense of freedom in it and a excitement and anticipation of taking on the challenge of taking what comes to me and riding it and seeing where I end up.
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Zooming Out: Seeing My Relationships at a Distance
The past month has been eventful in a somewhat different way. It hasn't felt dramatic, there has been plenty of emotion, but little anxiety. There are things that need to be done. I hesitate to say fixed. I haven't screwed things up; they're just still in progress. I have a new job as a surf instructor. It doesn't quite pay my bills, but I'm not draining my savings every day I'm here now and I'm getting paid to surf and share something I love. I'm getting used to the pace of life here, although I still get crazy bored during the midday lull. I'm surfing a lot and getting better at it, but I've discovered I'd be better suited for a different board and I haven't been able to justify buying another. It's too hot to run here most days. I go occasionally and spend the next day recovering from the dehydration and sun exposure, but I don't trip out over not running regularly as often.
Things aren't perfect, but the problems are mostly trivial day to day things. Yes, I occasionally wonder where I will be in 6 months. I am well aware of the lack of income I am generating and the limitations that creates. I still check the sports industry job postings every week and feel a bit of guilt or fear or whatever that feelings of 'holy-shit-I-better-do-something-with-my-life-soon' and 'am-I-really-wasting-8-years-of-kicking-my-own-ass-to-get-those-degrees?' would be classified as. I think it's called lingering neuroses from growing up in a narrow minded world view. Those things don't feel any better when they are in focus, but they aren't consuming me. There is less panic, maybe even less judgement, and I think most significantly I am able to move on and to not dwell on the things that cannot be fixed this moment. I've given up planning. I have had enough time to look back on how effective the incessant planning thing has been working for me. It was rather conclusive that it wasn't. My best decisions were always made intuitively in the moment and the ones that hurt me the most were the most premeditated.
The best and hardest part of being here is the perspective I've gotten surrounding some of the key relationships in my life. Distance and time have shown me some things I was doing a very good job of forcibly not seeing and some things I simply couldn't see because I was too entangled in them. Some of the things are painful. I realized how little of a relationship I have left with my father. I'm halfway across the world and I haven't had any contact with him and it feels no different than it has in years. I don't miss him, which sounds terrible. I just don't see him at the climbing gym every weekend to make fun of his climbing technique and make attempts on reassuring him that I'm a responsible adult. It's odd to step back and see that this man who I've spent so much of my life trying to meet his expectations and make him proud has in reality become such a marginalized figure in my life. The idea of him, or rather my idea of his expectations are what have been looming over me for so long. It's something I created.
I've also realized how hard my mother tries to keep the family functioning and how much anxiety and stress she creates for herself in the process. I know I took a lot of that on during high school. Not surprisingly it wasn't the best time of my life. I've actually taken on a lot of my Mom's personality. For instance she goes out of her way to help people and to do things to make others feel special. I admire that and tend to do it as well, but like her I've done it to the point that I feel used or jaded, or simply worn out. Seeing her from afar now as she struggles with my brothers recent legal problems, my father's retirement, his mother's estate, her sister's medical issues....you get my point... I suddenly understand why she sometimes seems to get overwhelmed or cranky at odd times. It's a valuable reminder for me.
Then there is my brother. I love my brother a lot. I don't see him much anymore, but when you grow up moving a lot like we did in a small family, there's no one who can understand your life experience better than a sibling. My brother and I have very little in common on the surface. Our personalities seem to contrast. In private though we're not all that different. We struggle with many of the same things, just with different presentations. My brother left college to go into union trade work, I buried myself in getting multiple degrees. He's currently dealing with some legal issues surrounding alcohol abuse, I've been in and out of rehab for my issues for over 14 years now. We're both struggling to find our places in the world we were raised in, or maybe more accurately the interpretation of the world we were raised to see. I used to envy my brother for bucking the preplanned path through college and doing his own thing. I've realized recently that it was just another version of not knowing what to do. True to form, when faced with uncertainty my default was to do what was expected, his was to dig in his heels and do the opposite. When I found out about my brother's legal problems while I was here I realized something else about our relationship. I recognized that I can't save him or help him. I want to and I think I used to try; covering for him with our parents, intervening when they fought, giving him pep talks. It seems idiotic now. If I did anything it was probably more harm than good. I didn't think of it as trying to save him at the time. I don't think I'm that egotistical. I just cared about him and knew he was struggling. maybe I focused on him because it was easier then focusing on me. Regardless, I know now that I can't help him and I have to let go of the impulse to get involved or upset when he faces the consequences of his struggles. Just like I have to face mine. Sometimes things just suck like that and I'm always going to worry about him a bit. I'm just grateful I'm not our parents. They can't help him either, but I can understand why it's harder for them to let go of the need to try than it is for me.
I've also realized how important certain friends have become in my life and how little it matters what the label placed on the relationship is or whether people think I'm bat-shit crazy when they ask me to explain it and I attempt to. I don't need to know where it's going or what our friendship will look like a year from now or 10 years. Of course I wonder. I hope that the life changes that I'm facing won't put distance between us. Worrying about it does me no good. I don't even have options to debate right now. I'm just lucky I have someone keeping me company as I muddle my way though this. It comes at the cost of some loneliness and a lot of uncertainty, but its a small price to pay.
I'm sure some of these things are obvious to onlookers or sound cliche or generic. (I am after all leaving out specifics). I guess that's the nature of growing up and going through life. I'm learning things a lot of people already know, experiencing things they've been through, but if they'd told me, I still wouldn't have really gotten it. I've got a lot to learn still, but luckily I've also got time and I finally feel like I can take it.
Things aren't perfect, but the problems are mostly trivial day to day things. Yes, I occasionally wonder where I will be in 6 months. I am well aware of the lack of income I am generating and the limitations that creates. I still check the sports industry job postings every week and feel a bit of guilt or fear or whatever that feelings of 'holy-shit-I-better-do-something-with-my-life-soon' and 'am-I-really-wasting-8-years-of-kicking-my-own-ass-to-get-those-degrees?' would be classified as. I think it's called lingering neuroses from growing up in a narrow minded world view. Those things don't feel any better when they are in focus, but they aren't consuming me. There is less panic, maybe even less judgement, and I think most significantly I am able to move on and to not dwell on the things that cannot be fixed this moment. I've given up planning. I have had enough time to look back on how effective the incessant planning thing has been working for me. It was rather conclusive that it wasn't. My best decisions were always made intuitively in the moment and the ones that hurt me the most were the most premeditated.
The best and hardest part of being here is the perspective I've gotten surrounding some of the key relationships in my life. Distance and time have shown me some things I was doing a very good job of forcibly not seeing and some things I simply couldn't see because I was too entangled in them. Some of the things are painful. I realized how little of a relationship I have left with my father. I'm halfway across the world and I haven't had any contact with him and it feels no different than it has in years. I don't miss him, which sounds terrible. I just don't see him at the climbing gym every weekend to make fun of his climbing technique and make attempts on reassuring him that I'm a responsible adult. It's odd to step back and see that this man who I've spent so much of my life trying to meet his expectations and make him proud has in reality become such a marginalized figure in my life. The idea of him, or rather my idea of his expectations are what have been looming over me for so long. It's something I created.
I've also realized how hard my mother tries to keep the family functioning and how much anxiety and stress she creates for herself in the process. I know I took a lot of that on during high school. Not surprisingly it wasn't the best time of my life. I've actually taken on a lot of my Mom's personality. For instance she goes out of her way to help people and to do things to make others feel special. I admire that and tend to do it as well, but like her I've done it to the point that I feel used or jaded, or simply worn out. Seeing her from afar now as she struggles with my brothers recent legal problems, my father's retirement, his mother's estate, her sister's medical issues....you get my point... I suddenly understand why she sometimes seems to get overwhelmed or cranky at odd times. It's a valuable reminder for me.
Then there is my brother. I love my brother a lot. I don't see him much anymore, but when you grow up moving a lot like we did in a small family, there's no one who can understand your life experience better than a sibling. My brother and I have very little in common on the surface. Our personalities seem to contrast. In private though we're not all that different. We struggle with many of the same things, just with different presentations. My brother left college to go into union trade work, I buried myself in getting multiple degrees. He's currently dealing with some legal issues surrounding alcohol abuse, I've been in and out of rehab for my issues for over 14 years now. We're both struggling to find our places in the world we were raised in, or maybe more accurately the interpretation of the world we were raised to see. I used to envy my brother for bucking the preplanned path through college and doing his own thing. I've realized recently that it was just another version of not knowing what to do. True to form, when faced with uncertainty my default was to do what was expected, his was to dig in his heels and do the opposite. When I found out about my brother's legal problems while I was here I realized something else about our relationship. I recognized that I can't save him or help him. I want to and I think I used to try; covering for him with our parents, intervening when they fought, giving him pep talks. It seems idiotic now. If I did anything it was probably more harm than good. I didn't think of it as trying to save him at the time. I don't think I'm that egotistical. I just cared about him and knew he was struggling. maybe I focused on him because it was easier then focusing on me. Regardless, I know now that I can't help him and I have to let go of the impulse to get involved or upset when he faces the consequences of his struggles. Just like I have to face mine. Sometimes things just suck like that and I'm always going to worry about him a bit. I'm just grateful I'm not our parents. They can't help him either, but I can understand why it's harder for them to let go of the need to try than it is for me.
I've also realized how important certain friends have become in my life and how little it matters what the label placed on the relationship is or whether people think I'm bat-shit crazy when they ask me to explain it and I attempt to. I don't need to know where it's going or what our friendship will look like a year from now or 10 years. Of course I wonder. I hope that the life changes that I'm facing won't put distance between us. Worrying about it does me no good. I don't even have options to debate right now. I'm just lucky I have someone keeping me company as I muddle my way though this. It comes at the cost of some loneliness and a lot of uncertainty, but its a small price to pay.
I'm sure some of these things are obvious to onlookers or sound cliche or generic. (I am after all leaving out specifics). I guess that's the nature of growing up and going through life. I'm learning things a lot of people already know, experiencing things they've been through, but if they'd told me, I still wouldn't have really gotten it. I've got a lot to learn still, but luckily I've also got time and I finally feel like I can take it.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Shooting Stars and A Break in the Static
If you've been following my posts, or maybe if you've known me long enough to get through my tough-girl, overly organized, perhaps even confident alter-ego persona, you have probably figured out that I have some serious issues with identifying and knowing what I want or even need. Often even simple decisions with no consequences to speak of can be difficult for me; things like birthday wishes or playing 20 Questions. Decisions about more complex things can be downright terrifying. You see, I plan too much, so every potential option trickles down into more decisions and consequences and branches into whole new scenarios... waaay too much thinking, way too much commitment for someone who doesn't know what their ultimate goal is, where she wants to be, or what she wants to do. Being unable to make a decision to move towards something means that every decision feels more like an act of eliminating numerous opportunities than embracing one. It feels like backing yourself into a corner.
I didn't really notice things changing until last night though. I'd been talking to a friend online and after saying goodnight I suddenly felt this intense sadness, not an unpleasant feeling, just the kind of sadness that comes from missing someone you love. I was tired, but couldn't sleep so I went outside and laid in the hammock on the porch with a view of a clear night's sky through breaks in the trees. I sat for an hour or so with my thoughts drifting, listening to the roar of the distant surf and watching the sky. I almost missed the tiny streak of light passing through a gap in the palm fronds: a shooting star. Almost before I knew what I was seeing I had made a wish. There was no thinking involved, no logical reasoning. I knew exactly what I wanted in that moment. It may seem incredibly trivial, we are talking after all about a child's tradition, but for me it is a notable change and a small triumph. Maybe this crazy quest I'm on is working. Maybe by eliminating some of the static, the artificial values and guidelines, I'm allowing myself to relearn how to know what I want. Childish or not, I'm taking that little glimmer of hope in the form of some burning space debris and I'm going to hold onto it. And if my wish does come true, that will just be a bonus.
When I made the decision to take this trip, I made it on impulse and I made it so far ahead that it didn't feel real enough to have consequences. I didn't plan it, and I didn't really even think about it until a month before I left, at which point I did a fair amount of stressing out and second guessing. More significantly though, I started eliminating distractions, things I could use as an excuse to give up or prevent myself from becoming immersed in the experience. (Sometimes I think I should have left my laptop as well, but I'll leave that as it is for now. Somehow I don't think cutting all ties is any healthier than holding on to too many). Now that I am here with no job, no school to return to, no apartment needing to be sublet or appointments to be kept, I'm finding myself with very few contrived criteria to base my decisions on. I don't have a schedule, so I don't have to drag myself out of bed early to run in the dark and cold when my body wants none of it. I don't have to cram social events in between shifts at Moosejaw, job hunting, and study sessions (or vice versa).
I am facing having to make daily, simple decisions based upon how I feel and what I want, and it has been hard to get used to. I have used all sorts of strange criteria to try to have logical reasons for what I'm doing like 'The tide is too low to surf now.' as if I'm good enough for it to matter, or 'If I do that now I'll have to reapply sunscreen and it's expensive here' which erally meant I don';t feel like it and I'm judgmental so I'd feel lazy if I don't find some justification. The last couple of days I've started to feel just a bit more comfortable with this new pace of life. I've slept in. My roommate even commented to me that I seemed to have chilled out a bit. (Not that it takes a lot to meet that criteria, but I'm stoked it's even noticeable).
Full moon in Santa Teresa
I didn't really notice things changing until last night though. I'd been talking to a friend online and after saying goodnight I suddenly felt this intense sadness, not an unpleasant feeling, just the kind of sadness that comes from missing someone you love. I was tired, but couldn't sleep so I went outside and laid in the hammock on the porch with a view of a clear night's sky through breaks in the trees. I sat for an hour or so with my thoughts drifting, listening to the roar of the distant surf and watching the sky. I almost missed the tiny streak of light passing through a gap in the palm fronds: a shooting star. Almost before I knew what I was seeing I had made a wish. There was no thinking involved, no logical reasoning. I knew exactly what I wanted in that moment. It may seem incredibly trivial, we are talking after all about a child's tradition, but for me it is a notable change and a small triumph. Maybe this crazy quest I'm on is working. Maybe by eliminating some of the static, the artificial values and guidelines, I'm allowing myself to relearn how to know what I want. Childish or not, I'm taking that little glimmer of hope in the form of some burning space debris and I'm going to hold onto it. And if my wish does come true, that will just be a bonus.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Lessons from Aggro Surfers
I had a nasty run in with a rather aggro surfer yesterday that had me thinking about a few things; my reaction (not what I'd like it to be), the presence of aggressive, competitive or possessive people in sports and activities, and best of all about a few things I really like about myself and my friends. So here goes. It's a hodge-podge of thought all loosely centered around one experience, so bear with me.
So the last couple of days I've been out surfing at various times in the morning and I keep encountering this same group of surfers. They're not locals and the chick is pretty hot (yes I am allowed to appreciate this too.) and seems to have taken a liking to me as one of the only other girls out there. Surfer-girls, rather pleasantly, often seem to stick together which is great. The guy is a douche. He surfs with bright orange earplugs in, which is your first warning. And he seems to follow me wherever I paddle and is constantly competing with me for waves. This in itself isn't a problem. There are only so many waves and a lot of people, so just like in mountain biking and other sports there are guidelines for who has right-of-way. Sometimes these are local traditions, so I made sure to ask some locals when I got down here so that I wasn't stepping on toes and being 'that-chick'. I'm not the best surfer. I'm still learning, but I try, and I am sometimes a bit self conscious about my shortcomings as a surfer. Yesterday was a bit crowded and I was struggling to read the breaks with a new swell coming in. I missed a lot of waves on my own, but this guy kept cutting me off, hanging out just inside so that anytime I started gunning for a wave, he'd go for it as well. I always held back if he was in a better position, but I wasn't letting him intimidate me either, so when I had right of way I went for it. Sometimes he'd be in the way and I'd have to bail. I took a few beatings for the trouble, but it didn't bother me much. Later in the session though he started signalling to me and when he had my attention shakes his finger at me like he's scolding a dog and says in broken English 'No! I give you waves and still you taking mine. You paddle for my wave. No!'
A beautiful left-hand break at sunset
My first reaction, probably as it should be, was surprise and anger. WTF? Who is this guy to talk to me like that? He's not even much better of a surfer than I am and there's no name on the wave. To my disappointment that quickly faded into embarrassment and shame. Had I cut him off or dropped in on a wave he had right-of-way on? It happens to the best of us. I know I'm still learning this stuff, and I'm going to mess up now and then. What bothers me is how quickly I turned what should reasonably have been anger at this guy for being rude to me when he had been doing exactly the same things I had, into anger and disappointment in myself. I am not particularly tolerant of myself and my learning process, so it really hits hard when someone else reinforces that critical streak that I barely keep beneath the surface. I tried to get myself to let it go, but I was upset enough that I wasn't having fun anymore, so I paddled in and sat on the beach to think about why I was having such a strong reaction. I mean, I was near tears at some point, which struck me as odd and rather inappropriate for the situation even in the moment.
I still don't know what all of that set off initially. What it does bring up for me now that I've walked away and let it pass, is that it's a pity that there are people who feel the need to take the fun out of things like surfing. I have seen it in every sport I play. I don't always know what drives the people who pick on or discourage newcomers to a sport. In the past I've struggled with it myself when I felt threatened by a talented newbie who, despite my years of training or whatever I felt should have made me better, was on the verge of kicking my ass. Being competitive or aggressive didn't make me feel any better then and I know the people who act like that don't go home feeling good about that climb or surf session either. Happily, I've all but outgrown that aspect of my insecurities and I find that I truly enjoy sharing the activities I love and encouraging newcomers to find the same joy in it that I do. I think that being on the other side of things as the newbie and receiving encouragement and genuine interest from someone with more experience helped with that because I recognized how much more enjoyable things were for everyone without the competition.
Roping up to climb on the best climbing trip of my life. 4 months ago we were
competing for a job. Here we're enjoying an epic week in the Red
In the end this has made me think about how much I like who I am in this respect, and also how much I love the people I have found myself surrounded by who have a similar attitude: the community I have been a part of at my climbing gym and gear shop, the people I have met on my adventures climbing, dancing, and surfing etc., and the friends who have joined me and even introduced me to running trail races, mountain biking, and sparring. They have all helped me reach this point because I have recognized how much I appreciate their enthusiasm and how much I enjoy sharing the things I love doing. It is a much better way to live. In a world with limited resources and competition for jobs, education, and so much more, there seems to be no reason to create competition over the few things that aren't finite: enthusiasm, learning, and the joy of using ones body and participating in something. Competition has it's place to be sure, but there's a lot to be said for chilling out and sharing the experience sometimes.
*This morning I paddled out into some of the biggest and best waves I have seen yet, and into the biggest crowd I've ever dared to surf in. Every wave had 5 or 6 people going for it. On my first wave I found myself paddling hard alongside a guy who was clearly better than I was, but I was closest to the peak and had right of way. Instead of getting pissy, the guy looked right at me, smiled and started yelling 'You got it! Paddle! Go, go, go!'. I caught the wave, which ended up being a beautiful right and the best ride I'd had in weeks. When I paddled back out the same guy was there pumping both fists in the air hooting and hollering with a big grin on his face. He was cheering for my ride on a wave he could have easily taken instead. It made my day and watching the people around us I saw that everyone else was smiling as well.
So the last couple of days I've been out surfing at various times in the morning and I keep encountering this same group of surfers. They're not locals and the chick is pretty hot (yes I am allowed to appreciate this too.) and seems to have taken a liking to me as one of the only other girls out there. Surfer-girls, rather pleasantly, often seem to stick together which is great. The guy is a douche. He surfs with bright orange earplugs in, which is your first warning. And he seems to follow me wherever I paddle and is constantly competing with me for waves. This in itself isn't a problem. There are only so many waves and a lot of people, so just like in mountain biking and other sports there are guidelines for who has right-of-way. Sometimes these are local traditions, so I made sure to ask some locals when I got down here so that I wasn't stepping on toes and being 'that-chick'. I'm not the best surfer. I'm still learning, but I try, and I am sometimes a bit self conscious about my shortcomings as a surfer. Yesterday was a bit crowded and I was struggling to read the breaks with a new swell coming in. I missed a lot of waves on my own, but this guy kept cutting me off, hanging out just inside so that anytime I started gunning for a wave, he'd go for it as well. I always held back if he was in a better position, but I wasn't letting him intimidate me either, so when I had right of way I went for it. Sometimes he'd be in the way and I'd have to bail. I took a few beatings for the trouble, but it didn't bother me much. Later in the session though he started signalling to me and when he had my attention shakes his finger at me like he's scolding a dog and says in broken English 'No! I give you waves and still you taking mine. You paddle for my wave. No!'
My first reaction, probably as it should be, was surprise and anger. WTF? Who is this guy to talk to me like that? He's not even much better of a surfer than I am and there's no name on the wave. To my disappointment that quickly faded into embarrassment and shame. Had I cut him off or dropped in on a wave he had right-of-way on? It happens to the best of us. I know I'm still learning this stuff, and I'm going to mess up now and then. What bothers me is how quickly I turned what should reasonably have been anger at this guy for being rude to me when he had been doing exactly the same things I had, into anger and disappointment in myself. I am not particularly tolerant of myself and my learning process, so it really hits hard when someone else reinforces that critical streak that I barely keep beneath the surface. I tried to get myself to let it go, but I was upset enough that I wasn't having fun anymore, so I paddled in and sat on the beach to think about why I was having such a strong reaction. I mean, I was near tears at some point, which struck me as odd and rather inappropriate for the situation even in the moment.
I still don't know what all of that set off initially. What it does bring up for me now that I've walked away and let it pass, is that it's a pity that there are people who feel the need to take the fun out of things like surfing. I have seen it in every sport I play. I don't always know what drives the people who pick on or discourage newcomers to a sport. In the past I've struggled with it myself when I felt threatened by a talented newbie who, despite my years of training or whatever I felt should have made me better, was on the verge of kicking my ass. Being competitive or aggressive didn't make me feel any better then and I know the people who act like that don't go home feeling good about that climb or surf session either. Happily, I've all but outgrown that aspect of my insecurities and I find that I truly enjoy sharing the activities I love and encouraging newcomers to find the same joy in it that I do. I think that being on the other side of things as the newbie and receiving encouragement and genuine interest from someone with more experience helped with that because I recognized how much more enjoyable things were for everyone without the competition.
competing for a job. Here we're enjoying an epic week in the Red
In the end this has made me think about how much I like who I am in this respect, and also how much I love the people I have found myself surrounded by who have a similar attitude: the community I have been a part of at my climbing gym and gear shop, the people I have met on my adventures climbing, dancing, and surfing etc., and the friends who have joined me and even introduced me to running trail races, mountain biking, and sparring. They have all helped me reach this point because I have recognized how much I appreciate their enthusiasm and how much I enjoy sharing the things I love doing. It is a much better way to live. In a world with limited resources and competition for jobs, education, and so much more, there seems to be no reason to create competition over the few things that aren't finite: enthusiasm, learning, and the joy of using ones body and participating in something. Competition has it's place to be sure, but there's a lot to be said for chilling out and sharing the experience sometimes.
*This morning I paddled out into some of the biggest and best waves I have seen yet, and into the biggest crowd I've ever dared to surf in. Every wave had 5 or 6 people going for it. On my first wave I found myself paddling hard alongside a guy who was clearly better than I was, but I was closest to the peak and had right of way. Instead of getting pissy, the guy looked right at me, smiled and started yelling 'You got it! Paddle! Go, go, go!'. I caught the wave, which ended up being a beautiful right and the best ride I'd had in weeks. When I paddled back out the same guy was there pumping both fists in the air hooting and hollering with a big grin on his face. He was cheering for my ride on a wave he could have easily taken instead. It made my day and watching the people around us I saw that everyone else was smiling as well.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Unhappiness Knows No Borders
I've been here a little over 2 weeks now and I want to say things are incredible. I want to rave about the surfing and the cool people I am meeting and how much I love it here and never want to leave. But I can't. The surfing is indeed great, and challenging, but after 10 days of surfing usually for at least 4 hours a day I am craving something different. I've lost interest. I'm getting hurt being impatient, and I'm having to force myself to go out. Beyond that there's little to do here.
Life in a tourist town is expensive and I'm uncomfortable knowing I'm spending money and not making any. the locals seem to be content to sleep all day, smoke marijuana, and work a few hours between surf sessions. Most of them work in the tourist industry doing things like renting boards or managing a property, sometimes tutoring visiting students. There is very little industry, few opportunities for work. I'm struggling with some guilt issues too. I know I came here to learn how to live differently, and I knew it wouldn't be easy. Today I'm wondering if I can do it. Can I live a life that isn't productive, a life of simple subsistence? I'm not really doing that right now either since I'm living on my savings, but the question remains. I've considered starting a pole studio here, but that voice in the back of my head keeps telling me what a fuck up I would be if I did that and wasted the two degrees and 8 years of hard work to earn them. I know I'm capable, I just don't know what I want. And when I don't know what I want I tend to grasp onto being productive and useful to others to save me from feeling worthless.
Here in Costa Rica surfing and doing nothing at all I feel incredibly worthless. I feel like a failure. And I'm not coping with it well. I'm finding myself lonely and isolated, in part by language barriers and this odd separation between locals and tourists, in part by my own depression. I'm struggling with my eating disorder. And a lot of me just wants to go home. Well, not really to go home, since there is no home anymore. There is no going back. That phase of my life with school, part-time work, and stalling the inevitable need to make a decision about the next phase of my life has passed. I don't think this trip was an attempt on my part to continue stalling. I think it was a desperate huck for a handhold I didn't know if I could reach, hoping that even if it went wrong I'd come away knowing something more. So far I haven't discovered anything I didn't already know. I've had some interesting experiences, but overall I've just reiterated the fact that you can't run from your demons. They follow you no matter what exotic country you run off to. My struggles with self worth and lack of direction and motivation are as oppressive here as ever. And I feel guilty about that. Here I've created this opportunity for myself and I don't feel like I'm living up to it. I didn't think I had any expectations about all of this, but apparently I did somewhere in the back of my mind. How else could I feel so disappointed in myself right now.
I just wish I knew what I was waiting for. It feels like waiting anyway. I've tried just doing in the hopes I'd stumble upon something. Now I'm trying waiting. Neither is working. I am unhappy doing nothing. I don't know if that's okay or not. I don't think I'm okay. I feel like time is running out. And I don't know how to fix myself and be a responsible adult at the same time. I must have missed something important in the growing up process, back when there was a safety net. I don't consider myself an immature person, but today I feel like a child.
Life in a tourist town is expensive and I'm uncomfortable knowing I'm spending money and not making any. the locals seem to be content to sleep all day, smoke marijuana, and work a few hours between surf sessions. Most of them work in the tourist industry doing things like renting boards or managing a property, sometimes tutoring visiting students. There is very little industry, few opportunities for work. I'm struggling with some guilt issues too. I know I came here to learn how to live differently, and I knew it wouldn't be easy. Today I'm wondering if I can do it. Can I live a life that isn't productive, a life of simple subsistence? I'm not really doing that right now either since I'm living on my savings, but the question remains. I've considered starting a pole studio here, but that voice in the back of my head keeps telling me what a fuck up I would be if I did that and wasted the two degrees and 8 years of hard work to earn them. I know I'm capable, I just don't know what I want. And when I don't know what I want I tend to grasp onto being productive and useful to others to save me from feeling worthless.
Here in Costa Rica surfing and doing nothing at all I feel incredibly worthless. I feel like a failure. And I'm not coping with it well. I'm finding myself lonely and isolated, in part by language barriers and this odd separation between locals and tourists, in part by my own depression. I'm struggling with my eating disorder. And a lot of me just wants to go home. Well, not really to go home, since there is no home anymore. There is no going back. That phase of my life with school, part-time work, and stalling the inevitable need to make a decision about the next phase of my life has passed. I don't think this trip was an attempt on my part to continue stalling. I think it was a desperate huck for a handhold I didn't know if I could reach, hoping that even if it went wrong I'd come away knowing something more. So far I haven't discovered anything I didn't already know. I've had some interesting experiences, but overall I've just reiterated the fact that you can't run from your demons. They follow you no matter what exotic country you run off to. My struggles with self worth and lack of direction and motivation are as oppressive here as ever. And I feel guilty about that. Here I've created this opportunity for myself and I don't feel like I'm living up to it. I didn't think I had any expectations about all of this, but apparently I did somewhere in the back of my mind. How else could I feel so disappointed in myself right now.
I just wish I knew what I was waiting for. It feels like waiting anyway. I've tried just doing in the hopes I'd stumble upon something. Now I'm trying waiting. Neither is working. I am unhappy doing nothing. I don't know if that's okay or not. I don't think I'm okay. I feel like time is running out. And I don't know how to fix myself and be a responsible adult at the same time. I must have missed something important in the growing up process, back when there was a safety net. I don't consider myself an immature person, but today I feel like a child.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Day 1: Arrival and Adventures in San Jose
My flight to Costa Rica went smoothly enough. Even arriving at the airport, it hadn't registered that I was leaving. On my first plane ride I was seated next to a Canadien woman who, after some polite conversation asked me 'If money were not an issue, what would you do?' My first reaction was something along the lines of 'Oh come on. Really?' After all, my inability to answer that is half the reason I'm on this trip! Since this is not generally something a well adjusted young woman admits to, I instead told her that I would start a business guiding surfing and rock climbing expeditions and design and manufacture custom boards and other sporting equipment on the side. It's not the first time I've had to answer similar questions or thrown out either an outrageous, not-so-well thought out response. I actually do it quite often. Sometimes just saying it out loud gives me enough information to decide whether an aspect of it is worth pursuing. If it makes me so anxious my skin crawls and I feel like vomiting (ie working in the auto industry or getting a PhD) I know it's a bust. If I feel even the least bit of excitement or relief, I know it's something to consider. This time all I got was a blank feeling barring my incessant critical mind attempting to pick out all of the potential pitfalls. Guess I'm leaving my options open.
My arrival in Costa Rica began with passing through customs. I had done my homework so the answer of 90 days when asked how long I was staying got my passport stamped without having to show the return ticket that I do not have. I withdrew some Colones, the local currency (500C = 1USD) and the next adventure was wading through the horde of cab drivers yelling at me in Spanish and locating the bus station and correct shuttle to San Jose. After a brief battle in Spanish with the driver who did not want to give me change for the large bills from the ATM I was on my way. An American woman who now lives here gave me some recommendations for my visit and found a young man who spoke english to help me get to my next stop, the Coca Cola bus station in the city. Unfortunately, this guy must not have liked americans or tourists much. After a long rant about american tourists fueling the drug market here, warnings about violence against tourists, and a scolding about being a white girl on my own in town, he proceeded to send me on my way to a local hostel since I had already missed the last bus to the coast by then. 15 minutes of walking later I realized that I had fallen victim to something tourists are warned about here: Ticos (locals) with very bad directions.
A little background on the area of San Jose I ended up in. The streets are narrow and packed with old model cars and motorcycles with no emission controls. The air is acrid with exhaust and pedestrians do not have anything resembling right-of-way. Alongside the road, which has no traffic pattern control either, are high, narrow sidewalks packed with street vendors. As I walked I passed whole carcasses of pigs in uncooled carnecerias (butcher shops), crates of fruit, fresh cut flowers, panaderias (bakeries), and many more open air shops and things I didn't even recognize. The buildings are old, constructed of concrete and rusted metal with many bars and locks. It is chaotic, noisy, and foul smelling. Oh, and there are no street signs or addresses, so a map is useless. The people passing by seemed poorer and many of the women were brightly clothed. I got quite a few stares, but it seemed to be just a passing curiosity about the pale white girl hauling a trekking pack and day pack through the chaos. The police on the corner seemed not to notice me at all. I just continued to smile and greet everyone who made eye contact with a well accented !Hola!, which usually got me a confused smile and a few double takes. I've been told my accent is surprisingly good and not at all American.
I walked for a while looking for a sign for the hostel or the clothing store it was supposed to be near, but reached a bend in the road maybe a kilometer along and decided I'd missed it, which wasn't surprising in the mess of people and noise. I stopped to ask a shopkeeper, but she told me in Spanish that she had never heard of either place, so I started walking back the way I had come, but still didn't see anything. I decided to walk back again while I came up with another plan since my map was useless and it was pretty clear the kid from the bus had sent me on a wild goose hunt. As I was trying to remember how to politely address the policemen, a local man came up to me asked in heavily accented, but clear English essentially what the hell I thought I was doing here. I told him I was looking for a hostel and he told me I could not stay here and looked genuinely concerned. After asking the police for directions, which confirmed that the place did not exist, Oscar and his mother, Ana, offered to drop me off at a hostel if I wanted to join them running some errands and visting some friends in the city first. It seemed like a much better option that my current situation, so I gladly agreed.
Oscar turned out to be visiting from New Jersey and had worked as a criminal investigator and lawyer here in CR. In the US he runs a janitorial service. I tagged along to buy flowers which we then delivered to his friends at the ministry of justice and then to visit a friend and detective near the CIA building ( Don't ask my why the CIA is in Costa Rica. I don't know either.) Listening to their conversations and judging by the shocked looks I was getting from his friends as he explained how they had come to be trailing a foreigner, I gathered that the area I had been wandering about in is La Zona Roja (The Red Zone) of San Jose: the single most dangerous neighborhood in the country and the center of the drug and prostitution rings. That explains a few of the women I had seen standing around on the corners I guess!
Oscar and Ana's home in Heredia is 125 years old
By the end of the day my Spanish had improved from passable to functional and I was able to hold a conversation with Ana who spoke no English. Oscar and Ana invited me to stay in their home in nearby Heredia and despite some reservation, remembering my pledge not to say no to anything that wasn't obviously hazardous to my health, I accepted and also agreed to spend the following day visiting some properties in the country that Oscar was purchasing before catching the bus to the coast the morning after. Their home turned out to be in the foothills with a view the city, rainforest covered mountains, and the distant Pacific Ocean. We stopped at a carniceria on the way back and Ana cooked us the traditional Gallo Pinto (beans and rice), pollo (chicken), and some sort of sausage with fresh lemonade made using fruit we picked in their garden and some sort of candied citrus fruit for dessert. Oscar insisted despite my protests that I take his bed while he set up an air mattress on the floor for himself. Not wanting to insult anyone and not knowing the customs here I eventually stopped arguing.
Sunrise over the Mountains near San Jose
Ana and her husband Carlos went to bed early while Oscar walked me to the local tienda (sort of a convenience store) to buy a phone card to call home. On the way back things got a little less pleasant. Oscar started telling me how beautiful I am and trying to hold my hand etc. I did my best to politely avoid him and started making plans for a quick escape if needed. I had noticed a taxi stand down the street within walking distance if I needed it and I was exhausted, so I decided to see if I could put up with it for the time being. Back at the house I called home to let the folks know I had arrived (although I left out the details of my adventures in San Jose) and took a shower, discovering that hot water is not standard in the homes here. Thoroughly chilled, I made sure that all of my things were packed and ready to grab, put on jeans and a t-shirt, tucked my knife in my pocket and crawled into bed. Oscar went to bed a bit later and I pretended to be asleep to avoid conversation. I fell asleep considering the irony of the fact that I had laughed at my mother's parting warning/request not to go running off with some Tico (as the locals are called) 'Romeo' and wondering what was in store for the next day. Whatever it is I'm quite certain that my mother has no reason to worry.
My arrival in Costa Rica began with passing through customs. I had done my homework so the answer of 90 days when asked how long I was staying got my passport stamped without having to show the return ticket that I do not have. I withdrew some Colones, the local currency (500C = 1USD) and the next adventure was wading through the horde of cab drivers yelling at me in Spanish and locating the bus station and correct shuttle to San Jose. After a brief battle in Spanish with the driver who did not want to give me change for the large bills from the ATM I was on my way. An American woman who now lives here gave me some recommendations for my visit and found a young man who spoke english to help me get to my next stop, the Coca Cola bus station in the city. Unfortunately, this guy must not have liked americans or tourists much. After a long rant about american tourists fueling the drug market here, warnings about violence against tourists, and a scolding about being a white girl on my own in town, he proceeded to send me on my way to a local hostel since I had already missed the last bus to the coast by then. 15 minutes of walking later I realized that I had fallen victim to something tourists are warned about here: Ticos (locals) with very bad directions.
A little background on the area of San Jose I ended up in. The streets are narrow and packed with old model cars and motorcycles with no emission controls. The air is acrid with exhaust and pedestrians do not have anything resembling right-of-way. Alongside the road, which has no traffic pattern control either, are high, narrow sidewalks packed with street vendors. As I walked I passed whole carcasses of pigs in uncooled carnecerias (butcher shops), crates of fruit, fresh cut flowers, panaderias (bakeries), and many more open air shops and things I didn't even recognize. The buildings are old, constructed of concrete and rusted metal with many bars and locks. It is chaotic, noisy, and foul smelling. Oh, and there are no street signs or addresses, so a map is useless. The people passing by seemed poorer and many of the women were brightly clothed. I got quite a few stares, but it seemed to be just a passing curiosity about the pale white girl hauling a trekking pack and day pack through the chaos. The police on the corner seemed not to notice me at all. I just continued to smile and greet everyone who made eye contact with a well accented !Hola!, which usually got me a confused smile and a few double takes. I've been told my accent is surprisingly good and not at all American.
I walked for a while looking for a sign for the hostel or the clothing store it was supposed to be near, but reached a bend in the road maybe a kilometer along and decided I'd missed it, which wasn't surprising in the mess of people and noise. I stopped to ask a shopkeeper, but she told me in Spanish that she had never heard of either place, so I started walking back the way I had come, but still didn't see anything. I decided to walk back again while I came up with another plan since my map was useless and it was pretty clear the kid from the bus had sent me on a wild goose hunt. As I was trying to remember how to politely address the policemen, a local man came up to me asked in heavily accented, but clear English essentially what the hell I thought I was doing here. I told him I was looking for a hostel and he told me I could not stay here and looked genuinely concerned. After asking the police for directions, which confirmed that the place did not exist, Oscar and his mother, Ana, offered to drop me off at a hostel if I wanted to join them running some errands and visting some friends in the city first. It seemed like a much better option that my current situation, so I gladly agreed.
Oscar turned out to be visiting from New Jersey and had worked as a criminal investigator and lawyer here in CR. In the US he runs a janitorial service. I tagged along to buy flowers which we then delivered to his friends at the ministry of justice and then to visit a friend and detective near the CIA building ( Don't ask my why the CIA is in Costa Rica. I don't know either.) Listening to their conversations and judging by the shocked looks I was getting from his friends as he explained how they had come to be trailing a foreigner, I gathered that the area I had been wandering about in is La Zona Roja (The Red Zone) of San Jose: the single most dangerous neighborhood in the country and the center of the drug and prostitution rings. That explains a few of the women I had seen standing around on the corners I guess!
By the end of the day my Spanish had improved from passable to functional and I was able to hold a conversation with Ana who spoke no English. Oscar and Ana invited me to stay in their home in nearby Heredia and despite some reservation, remembering my pledge not to say no to anything that wasn't obviously hazardous to my health, I accepted and also agreed to spend the following day visiting some properties in the country that Oscar was purchasing before catching the bus to the coast the morning after. Their home turned out to be in the foothills with a view the city, rainforest covered mountains, and the distant Pacific Ocean. We stopped at a carniceria on the way back and Ana cooked us the traditional Gallo Pinto (beans and rice), pollo (chicken), and some sort of sausage with fresh lemonade made using fruit we picked in their garden and some sort of candied citrus fruit for dessert. Oscar insisted despite my protests that I take his bed while he set up an air mattress on the floor for himself. Not wanting to insult anyone and not knowing the customs here I eventually stopped arguing.
Sunrise over the Mountains near San Jose
Ana and her husband Carlos went to bed early while Oscar walked me to the local tienda (sort of a convenience store) to buy a phone card to call home. On the way back things got a little less pleasant. Oscar started telling me how beautiful I am and trying to hold my hand etc. I did my best to politely avoid him and started making plans for a quick escape if needed. I had noticed a taxi stand down the street within walking distance if I needed it and I was exhausted, so I decided to see if I could put up with it for the time being. Back at the house I called home to let the folks know I had arrived (although I left out the details of my adventures in San Jose) and took a shower, discovering that hot water is not standard in the homes here. Thoroughly chilled, I made sure that all of my things were packed and ready to grab, put on jeans and a t-shirt, tucked my knife in my pocket and crawled into bed. Oscar went to bed a bit later and I pretended to be asleep to avoid conversation. I fell asleep considering the irony of the fact that I had laughed at my mother's parting warning/request not to go running off with some Tico (as the locals are called) 'Romeo' and wondering what was in store for the next day. Whatever it is I'm quite certain that my mother has no reason to worry.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Finding Balance: Musings on Surfboards and Sex
I have a lot of stories to share, but for now I'm too busy living it up to do most of them justice. More long stories to come, but for now I thought I'd post some thoughts on the experience of buying and using my new surfboard. The swell is low here for the moment. This means that I may get 5-10 good waves in a 2 hours session. This also means I have way too much time on my hands to think, practice back-flips off my board, and generally screw around. The following are a few of my musings for whatever they may be worth.
For the landlubbers out there here's a quick Surfing tutorial. 1) Waves come in sets with periods of calm water in between. 2) A swell is like a weather front that brings in different sizes, shapes, and speeds of wave sets. 3) Surfboards come in a ton of sizes and shapes. The more surface area, the less powerful the wave has to be and the less you have to paddle. 4) Boards also have varying number of fins. The more fins, the more stable it is. 5) Picking the right wave, positioning, and time to start paddling is key to catching a good ride.
My new, very green 6'6" twin-fin, retro fish
Yesterday I managed to snag a practically brand new 6'6" twin-fin Clyde Beatty retro fish. It's totally different and much more challenging than anything I've ever ridden. It's over a foot shorter than my other board, has fewer fins, and is made of fiberglass instead of epoxy. I've taken the fish out 3 times now. The first time out I thought I'd made a huge mistake. I couldn't catch anything. Waves I'd easily catch on my hybrid were passing me by no matter how hard I paddled. I didn't manage to ride a single wave that session and was definitely starting to wonder if I'd been a bit too ambitious. It was a pretty big jump as far as boards go. You might reasonably wonder what I was doing when I bought this new one. I really didn't just buy the pretty green one. There was definitely some debate in the process. The waves here are bigger so a smaller board would make sense. Part of me wanted to just go for an easy longer board because I knew I could already handle that. The competitive side of me wanted to go smaller, a bit flashier. I'm not totally immune to that bit of ego that makes so many beginners try to start on a tiny shortboard because the pros use them. I went with this one because it was small enough to be a challenge, but not so small that I wouldn't be able to have fun even when the swell is low. It's a small victory in finding balance for me.
My much larger 7'8" tri-fin Becker Hybrid back in Cali
Balance aside, the first 2 sessions sucked. I caught more waves on my friend's 6'3" shortboard than on the fish. Catching those waves definitely kept me from going home unhappy. (Yeah, I know, I'm surfing in paradise, but old habits die hard. I'm here to learn to let go.) Today's session started out about the same. The wave sets were small and sometimes 15 minutes apart. I was frustrated and starting to consider paddling in selling the fish and going back to a funboard. 3 hours later I was still out there and had caught at least 5 solid waves and had some really good rides. I discovered that with this board I need to keep my body further forward and that I also have to be further out in front of the wave when I start. On my old board this would have meant that I nose-dived. I'm also definitely not used to having the wave start to break before I'm up. The process is entirely different. By the end of the session, as the sun was setting I was able to stand at the peak and take the drop before carving out along the face.
All the makings of a great day, if you have the patience to do it
The best metaphor I have to explain what it's like getting a new board to someone who doesn't surf is that it's a lot like having sex with someone new. The first time usually isn't mind blowing. It takes some trial and error to figure out what works and the right positions to use. Sometimes you walk away from the first session unsatisfied thinking you made a mistake. Sometimes you sell the board, sometimes you hang onto one for longer than you should because it's just so damn pretty, and sometimes you know there's potential and you keep at it until you get it right. And if your instincts are good, with a little luck and practice, you attain that orgasmic experience you were looking for. In surfing though, smaller and faster isn't a bad thing! And yeah. I do like surfing that much. And it looks like this time I got it right. Be jealous.
For the landlubbers out there here's a quick Surfing tutorial. 1) Waves come in sets with periods of calm water in between. 2) A swell is like a weather front that brings in different sizes, shapes, and speeds of wave sets. 3) Surfboards come in a ton of sizes and shapes. The more surface area, the less powerful the wave has to be and the less you have to paddle. 4) Boards also have varying number of fins. The more fins, the more stable it is. 5) Picking the right wave, positioning, and time to start paddling is key to catching a good ride.
Yesterday I managed to snag a practically brand new 6'6" twin-fin Clyde Beatty retro fish. It's totally different and much more challenging than anything I've ever ridden. It's over a foot shorter than my other board, has fewer fins, and is made of fiberglass instead of epoxy. I've taken the fish out 3 times now. The first time out I thought I'd made a huge mistake. I couldn't catch anything. Waves I'd easily catch on my hybrid were passing me by no matter how hard I paddled. I didn't manage to ride a single wave that session and was definitely starting to wonder if I'd been a bit too ambitious. It was a pretty big jump as far as boards go. You might reasonably wonder what I was doing when I bought this new one. I really didn't just buy the pretty green one. There was definitely some debate in the process. The waves here are bigger so a smaller board would make sense. Part of me wanted to just go for an easy longer board because I knew I could already handle that. The competitive side of me wanted to go smaller, a bit flashier. I'm not totally immune to that bit of ego that makes so many beginners try to start on a tiny shortboard because the pros use them. I went with this one because it was small enough to be a challenge, but not so small that I wouldn't be able to have fun even when the swell is low. It's a small victory in finding balance for me.
Balance aside, the first 2 sessions sucked. I caught more waves on my friend's 6'3" shortboard than on the fish. Catching those waves definitely kept me from going home unhappy. (Yeah, I know, I'm surfing in paradise, but old habits die hard. I'm here to learn to let go.) Today's session started out about the same. The wave sets were small and sometimes 15 minutes apart. I was frustrated and starting to consider paddling in selling the fish and going back to a funboard. 3 hours later I was still out there and had caught at least 5 solid waves and had some really good rides. I discovered that with this board I need to keep my body further forward and that I also have to be further out in front of the wave when I start. On my old board this would have meant that I nose-dived. I'm also definitely not used to having the wave start to break before I'm up. The process is entirely different. By the end of the session, as the sun was setting I was able to stand at the peak and take the drop before carving out along the face.
The best metaphor I have to explain what it's like getting a new board to someone who doesn't surf is that it's a lot like having sex with someone new. The first time usually isn't mind blowing. It takes some trial and error to figure out what works and the right positions to use. Sometimes you walk away from the first session unsatisfied thinking you made a mistake. Sometimes you sell the board, sometimes you hang onto one for longer than you should because it's just so damn pretty, and sometimes you know there's potential and you keep at it until you get it right. And if your instincts are good, with a little luck and practice, you attain that orgasmic experience you were looking for. In surfing though, smaller and faster isn't a bad thing! And yeah. I do like surfing that much. And it looks like this time I got it right. Be jealous.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
What are you here for?
For the past month or so I have been struggling to answer what seems like a very simple question: Why? Everyone wants to know why I am quitting my job, renting out my apartment, packing everything I can into a 75 L Osprey and leaving my country alone on a one way flight. Seems like a fair question. For the sake of brevity I have been giving a variety of one-liners: 'The surfing is supposed to be great.', 'Why not?', ' or 'I just graduated and don't have any commitments so it seemed like a good opportunity to travel.' , 'I'm bored with american boys...'
All the correct documentation. Guess my Spanish was good enough to get in!
While all (ok most) of these and the many others are true and small factors, there is a lot more to this epic adventure I have set out on. Yes I want to see parts of the world and different cultures that are extremely different from my own experience. Yes, this is a period of my life when I am facing major transition and upheaval already and I have the attitude of go big if you are going at all. And yes, the surf here is incredible. The real motivation behind this trip though is almost purely internal. After over 12 years of college prep, meeting graduation requirements, and pursuing a career that was chosen for reasons that were not the right ones and following a prescribed path and lifestyle dictated by my family's values and cultural norms, I have come to realize that there has not been a single major decision made in my life that has been solely for me based upon what I want. And I don't even know what that is most of the time.
The view approaching San Jose, CR
For me this trip is a chance to set aside the expectations and mile markers and to learn to make decisions based upon what I am passionate about, what feels right, and not what allows me to check the most criteria off of some generic list. Living that way has not served me well as some of you know and many of you can understand from personal experience. To me this trip is a commitment to myself and a crash course in being rather than doing and a chance to learn to value and know who I am outside of all of the external noise. For now I'm going to go without plans, without destinations, and see where it takes me.
Yeah. I'm here. Not much more to say about that.
And between bouts of introspection and personal growth I'm going to have a fucking epic time adventuring in the jungle and on the waves. Stories and photos to come depending on the quality of surf and whether I have the access and inclination to use my computer.
P.S. To be on the safe side assume this blog to be rated R. If you're under 18 get off the internet and go climb a rock or something!
While all (ok most) of these and the many others are true and small factors, there is a lot more to this epic adventure I have set out on. Yes I want to see parts of the world and different cultures that are extremely different from my own experience. Yes, this is a period of my life when I am facing major transition and upheaval already and I have the attitude of go big if you are going at all. And yes, the surf here is incredible. The real motivation behind this trip though is almost purely internal. After over 12 years of college prep, meeting graduation requirements, and pursuing a career that was chosen for reasons that were not the right ones and following a prescribed path and lifestyle dictated by my family's values and cultural norms, I have come to realize that there has not been a single major decision made in my life that has been solely for me based upon what I want. And I don't even know what that is most of the time.
For me this trip is a chance to set aside the expectations and mile markers and to learn to make decisions based upon what I am passionate about, what feels right, and not what allows me to check the most criteria off of some generic list. Living that way has not served me well as some of you know and many of you can understand from personal experience. To me this trip is a commitment to myself and a crash course in being rather than doing and a chance to learn to value and know who I am outside of all of the external noise. For now I'm going to go without plans, without destinations, and see where it takes me.
And between bouts of introspection and personal growth I'm going to have a fucking epic time adventuring in the jungle and on the waves. Stories and photos to come depending on the quality of surf and whether I have the access and inclination to use my computer.
P.S. To be on the safe side assume this blog to be rated R. If you're under 18 get off the internet and go climb a rock or something!
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