Spent close to two hours in the water, rolling out of bed after 5 hours of sleep, pulling on my suit, and jetting over to Ben's beach stand board rental & refreshments (cooler on table with beer opener in the side). I started with just paddling and trying to go under the many, frequent waves. Ben walked down to the water finally and started shouting about turning the board around and actually trying to catch a wave. Not a bad idea, but my first twenty minutes in the water had me breathing hard with the effort and I caught one, kinda, and came in for a sit and to drink fresh water for a change. It was only 10 minutes later when Eddie, Ben's nephew, joined me in the water, deftly ducking under waves, and swimming with long, strong strokes. He gestured that I follow him and I did. I paddled around, got tossed around, dove under the wave correctly twice and it felt like hitting a baseball well. We ended up in some gross water, something came in or up and we moved down the shoreline and away from brown, foamy surf.
The water is full of trash. The beach littered with trash. I step on plastic bags and dodge bits of fabric, pudding cups, and the refuse that comes with poorly-planned convenience. The surf classes are out now and the water is littered with students as well. One school has whistles, their students all in helmets, and the instructors act like they're directing traffic. Beside them is the school I went to, Double-D, and the instructors stop by me and give me tips. I catch a few waves, one ride is good, and I call it quits.
When I finally drag the board and my tired body to Ben's stand, Eddie and Ben and the Double-D guys are chatting. I flop in the offered plastic chair, chug water, and feel my soaring heart rate start to slow. One of the Double-D guys notes that I have too much in my head. I do. There's a running list of instructions as I'm out there, a non-stop-stream of: long strokes, head up, feet at end, hands to chest, don't grip the board, don't kneel because your knees are starting to be missing skin and you don't have enough time, 1-2-3, stand taller, knees bent, middle of the board, etc. I laugh and point out that he too is keeping busy with seven students out there today and he nods. Too much to think about.
Ben and Eddie encourage me to come back in a couple of hours. I stagger, board shorts sticking to raw knees, back to the motorbike and climb on. Time to eat, sleep, and maybe go back out. I need strength and practice most of all. Quality of waves don't matter too much. The guys are encouraging, tell me I catch waves just fine, but... my list grows. I consider the next time focusing on not focusing. Just feeling, being, doing, being done. I try to sidestep my pride all of the time. This is a sport you start young, my mind tells me, you're too old, too weak, you'll never be any good. I want to be wrong.
Hours pass...
I've worked out a deal with Ben to rent the board for the week. It will stay with him, but I can use it whenever I want for a flat fee. It takes 15-20 minute to make this deal and I'm still paying too much until he threw in that he'd come out with me and give me assistance. Now we're talking. I'm still drop dead tired, even after a long nap and for once I listen to my body. Picking up some groceries, I spent the evening at home, drinking a bit of coffee, some water, and cooking up a storm. We even run out of fuel, which will be inconvenient for reheating the gallo pinto and mojo I spent the last two hours making.
I love cooking, the peeling, cutting, washing, mixing. It feels good to make something 3D, to only use my computer to watch a rom-com as I make mountains of crushed garlic. I'm trying to save myself for tomorrow. I'd like tomorrow to start with breakfast, then getting in the water for a couple of hours, a shower, and then south to Bukit with my camera. Yesterday I hunted surf spots to the north, making it as far as the ticket booths at a temple on the water and turning back south to ride through terraced rice fields, small villages where I'm the only caucasian, and small celebrations with huge creatures carried by people creating a sinous dance of dark hair around a scary mask face. A kilometer past the temple celebration, two brothers play at the event, one brother running shrieking with laughter as the other chases him with a similar headdress/costume made of towels and paper. I don't have my camera, hoping to get in the water and no way to lock it to my motorbike.
At Echo beach, I watch a lone surfer out in the rocky water, boldly catching waves, all of the other surfers still dripping from when the conditions were less than favorable and drinking Bintang beer and watching with me. At Canggu beach, I eat corn on the cob that's sweet, coated with herbed butter, and still blazing hot as again there's just one guy out there, giving it his best. Brawa beach, on the other hand, is going off with dozens of ripped-bodied folks deftly catching what I would consider mammoth waves at an hour unfavorable on both sides of this pocket. It's a bring-your-own-board beach, with two regular locals selling drinks and no signs leading to it. I imagine I'll see a lot more of this tomorrow too.
I feel like I'm racing a clock, the countdown of the last month I have here, and there's an unbelivable amount to things left to see, eat, discuss, and experience. There's nothing new to this internal pressure, a pressure that led to me taking anti-anxiety pills for a while, a pressure borne of 9 years in Pueblo, Colorado, deeply dissatisfied with the yields on my efforts, with my relationship at the time, and ultimately, with my choices that kept me there. That desire to gobble up life with both hands has driven much of my time in Portland, and is the invisible dark-haired masked demon chasing me through the back roads of Bali. I've been working on experiencing longer and longer periods of happiness with what IS happening, but this old habit fueled by a belief system that somehow I'm missing out, leaves me frustrated, exhausted, and ultimately unhappy with what IS happening. It's not worth the price, paying for a future I can't control with the currency of the now.