Back At It

I know that this is what they all say, but seriously, it seems like only yesterday that I was out in the waves of Pichilemu, puking up coffee and strawberries, as I panicked my way around a huge and scary I-have-no-clue-what-to-do wave situation. But welcome to today, Jane Harley, August 30, 2009. Hard to believe that the coffee and strawberries incident was almost a year ago. Very hard to believe. And now I find myself back in Pichilemu for one more year, keen to perfect my very imperfect grasp on the Spanish language, putting off graduate school for just one more year, and in the meantime, learning, and I mean really learning, how to surf.

I arrived back here a week and a day ago, and since then I've been dreaming about shark attacks and ill-fitting wetsuits, a sure sign that it is my time to jump back on the horse, a.k.a. get in the icy cold waters of Pichilemu, Chile.

Luckily, Chris came by the school this morning and asked me if I'd like to go out for a surf with him. Unluckily, when he asked, I'd just finished downing my first (huge) cup of coffee in over a week without regular caffeine intake; with this rumbling around in my empty stomach my natural bad luck would have it that my first surf of this year would be complete with not a puking accident, but with a pooping-my-wetsuit accident. "TMI", you say; yes, probably, but these are the type of things that raced through my head as I walked toward la puntilla. It's been a while since I've been out there, and it's quite possible that I have forgotten absolutely everything I've learned about surfing, as in the last few months I've been partaking in a lot of nowhere-near-the-ocean, middle-of-Canada, lazy person activities.

So with my gun tight under my arm, suited up in my armour, I walked out to the water with Chris on this very cloudy, dreary, wintery Pichilemu morning. But as I paddled out the channel after him (he instructed me that "we're going to get outside"), I realized that I hadn't forgotten much. The one thing I had forgotten was how not very good I am, as well as how easily scared I am (but in dreams you're better at everything, right? Plus, I'm getting wimpy in my old age). Those first few waves that I had to duck-dive brought memories of coffee and strawberries rushing back. Still, it only took a few minutes to get my rhythm back, and I felt pretty comfortable out on my board.

Unfortunately, the waves today were reminiscent of my very favourite surfing analogy that Val bestowed upon me last year: they were "like a drunk guy in bed". The waves looked like fun, they looked like they were getting bigger and ready to ride, I was getting excited and ready to go, but the waves just never broke, and when they did, there was not much there to surf. They were fat and mushy. Once again, probably "TMI", but more for Mom and Dad this time. But of course, this is all second-hand knowledge, obviously just what Val told me. OK?

Anyway, I had a good paddle and a fun time out there with Chris. Next time, waves.

And so I'm back in Pichilemu. I've re-connected with all my students, met up with all my friends, and I've seen all my peeps: the fruit and vegetable stand peeps, the Ropa Americana peeps, the carniceria peeps, the El 9 peeps, the UGG boot peeps, as well as all the creepy, leery dudes that I love and missed so much. Good ol' Pichilemu.

Nos vemos. xo

Jane

what to do when there's nothing to do?

Blog, I guess. 

I inadvertently took a summer vacation, along with the rest of Pichilemu, and Chile, for that matter. While I meant to keep up the blog throughout the summer it was just not destined to be, what with my busy disco schedule and all.  But now Pichilemu is a ghost town, back to the way it was when I started blogging, many months ago.  Quiet, quiet, and more quiet. Eerie, actually.  

Gone are the sleepy drunks in the park.  Gone are the llamas on the beach wearing funny coloured jackets.  Gone are the hordes of people walking as slowly as humanly possible down the sidewalk.  Gone are the circus trucks, driving around after each other, wooing vacationers to come to THEIR circus, for only 'dos luca'.   

More importantly than blogging, though, I would like to think that my summer in Pichilemu marked the turning point of me becoming an honorary Chilean.  I took siestas.  I ate empanadas on a regular basis. I used words like 'bacan' and 'fome'.  And I went to the disco at a proper, Chilean hour: 3 am.  Any earlier and I wouldn't have looked like a local.

There was some surfing progress too, but not as much as I would have liked.  I got to take my sister, Kristen, out surfing for her first time ever. I would have to say that on her first day out, the waves were as close to perfect as possible. It was a truly 'buena onda' day; it seemed like there was someone on each wave, and I was cheering for them all.  It was also fun being an instructor to Kristen.  Verbalizing what I've learned in the last few months was not easy.  Kristen did really well, regardless of my bad teaching, and even got to her knees on a few waves, much better than I can say for my first time out.  

I think my personal surfing highlight of the summer was the 'party wave' I shared with my friends Maren and Nicole.  We went out surfing together one evening, and were all quite close together (chatting - oops!), when the frothy foamy part of a big wave came up behind us. Instead of duck-diving it, we all turned around to try and catch it, and no sooner than I had stood up on my board, I looked to my left and there were both Maren and Nicole; Maren, a 'regular' looking right at me, and Nicole, a 'goofy', in between the two of us.  It was the best feeling ever and I definitely had a silly grin on my face.  I'm still not sure why Chris thought it was so funny when I told him it was "so 'Blue Crush' ", but I was channelling some serious Kate Bosworth, regardless of what anyone says. 

More summer highlights: I got to travel to other parts of the country and be a 'guide' of sorts to my parents and their friends.  We traveled to the south, flew over volcanoes, went to hot springs, hiked in the mountains, and most importantly, drank lots of Chilean wine.  It was so cool that they were able to meet my fantastically cool adopted Pichi family, as well as see where I've lived and what I've been up to for the past six months.

But back to Pichilemu reality. And more importantly, back to surfing. I've got a limited time left to get good, and need to take advantage!

Until next time. xoxo

Jane

Like Nobody's Biznass

Catching waves, that is. The obvious reason that I've been too busy to write my blog. That and the fact that I'm spending my days breaking up 7-year-old fist fights in my group class of eleven 5, 6, 7, and 8-year-olds. But I'm not even going to go there as it would upset the harmony I've found in my life since I actually, seriously, and honestly caught my first REAL wave. 

Not quite sure what I was thinking up until this point, when I would say, "Yeah....I caught some waves..."

Here's how it was different. I went out surfing Monday evening for the first time in a few days. The waves have been said to be pretty small by other people's standards, but perfect in my books. Catch-able, therefore perfect. Now I know I keep going back to this, but when the waves are as big as they were when I was out today, I feel that the people who surf them must have some kind of death wish, as they are like moving, growing, terrifying walls of water. WAAAAAY too big for me. Unless I had a death wish, which I don't. Back to Monday.

So anyway, went out Monday evening. No wind, serene, sun getting ready to set, with nice, clean, decent sized waves. To reiterate, perfect for me. 

Paddled out at the point, and there was no one out there, and I mean no one. It was peaceful, lovely, warm, sunny. Wondered why no one else was out there but then realized I should be thanking my lucky stars and knocking on wood, as it's summer here now, which means this town is overrun by mullets, moustaches, Ray-Bans, and fluorescent pink. 

Paddled out as far as I could get but it was really currenty. Now I understand that's not a word but am going to continue using it in place of 'strong current' as everyone says it and it is accepted and understood. 

So it was currenty. Back to the wave catching. Paddled out as far as I could. Observed the set for a while. Figured out a plan of attack. Paddled back in a bit, and watched the nice-sized, clean, lovely little wave come up behind me, pick me up, and poof! I was right on top of it. This is the point at which I've had trouble before: the decision to pull back a bit and be a big wimp, or go for it and potentially wreck and suffer the slightly unpleasant experience of being whipped around like I'm the spin cycle. Please remember, I'm in the process of mourning the loss of my daredevilishness, so this is slightly more difficult for me than it would have been, say, five years ago even. But in this case I made the correct decision of pushing down on the front of the front of the board, popping up (as opposed to my usual inching up as slowly as possible, hence the many posts talking about me riding out waves on my knee) and then stood up. 

And didn't fall off! This one last bit is what made the difference. I'd been fooled before into thinking that when I stood up and immediately (meaning within 3-5 seconds) and tumbled off head over heels, or heels over head, that I had actually caught the wave. Well, I hadn't. But I did at this point. I even remember looking to the side of me as I was miraculously standing on this thing thinking, "Ahhh! There's the green part! I'm on the green part of the wave! Ahhh! I've caught the wave!"

And I actually rode it for quite a while, long enough to get far enough in to the beach that paddling back out was not an option. So I paddled into the beach, and walked back out to the point with a goofy grin on my face which I could not wipe off. Tried it again, but wasn't as successful as the first time. 

Yet (here's the incredibly cheesy but unavoidable part) when I was out the second time I honestly felt this sense of calm; alone, out in the water, and watching the sun set after catching my first real wave. I felt inner peace.

That is until I left the water, walked up the beach, and crossed the street, only to come upon an area obviously designed to attract children, what with balloons, toys, trampolines, and inflatable slides, blasting Madonna's "Like a Virgin." Nothing can put the kibosh on a serene sense of inner peace than a scene like that. 

But it was cool. And I went out the next day, and caught another one.

I didn't go out the following day, as I was in a kick the dirt, grumble about everything type of bad mood for no apparent reason.

But I did go out again today with my friend Maren, and we switched boards at one point, and on her nice big longboard I was catching waves like nobody's biznass. 

It was cool. And so I am a surfer. Not a good one, but one. (Bow).

Will report back soon,

xoxo

Jane

Keep On Keepin' On...

It's been a while, sorry! The last few weeks have kept me busy with all sorts of new and exciting things. Here, I'll prove it:

1) I finished class with my little devils in Santa Cruz, not a minute too soon. But aren't they cute? 

2) I got my world rocked by Madonna, along with 74,999 close friends in Santiago. I mean come on, that's not a 50 year old bum.

3) I celebrated my 25th birthday...

with good friends and (adopted) family. 

4) I helped bring some Christmas cheer to less fortunate Pichilemu-ans.

5) I relaxed in a sandy, beachy paradise for a sandy, beachy Christmas (my first ever without snow and minus temps - something I could get used to)...

and met a cute new friend frolicking in the sand.

6) I watched my slow, quiet little town get more and more busy,

7) And finally, and most recently, I rang in the new year with style...

in the greatest little town in the world, Pichilemu!

Happy new year, everyone! See you soon.

xoxo

Jane

15 Day Surf Challenge Recap

In this re-cap of my challenge, you're not going to read posts like any of my previous ones. No, sir-ee bob, no detailed descriptions of puking, wave or shark fear, or even early mornings, for that matter (although there was one more of those horrid things before the challenge finished...ughhhh). You're going to read some real surfer material. Yeah, baby. 

But because the challenge finished one week ago today, I must admit that not many actual real surfer material stories stick out in my mind, mostly for the reason that I have a good, although short, memory. So actually, there's only one real 'surfer material'-worthy story. One crowning moment for me in the last seven days of the challenge. I 'dropped in'.

Wednesday, December 3, 2008: Now had I been able to figure out how to add a third column on this blog for "Chris and Val's Surf Term of the Week" (thanks for your help, Auntie Barb, but I'm useless) you would already know what this means. But because I didn't, and because (many of) you don't, here goes: 

I was out surfing with my friend Andres again, and the waves were a decent size. As you all know, I've been riding whitewater for quite sometime, which means standing up on the white frothy part after the wave has broken. Not this time. By pulling all of my surf knowledge together in one little gem of a millisecond (especially Chris' excellent tip of looking over my shoulder while paddling into the wave), I could tell that this one wave I was on was going to be good. No sooner than I realized that, I realized I had a decision to make. I was at the peak of the wave, and I could either back off, or go head first (on a big piece of foam and fibreglass) down a precariously steep wall of green water. I chose option two for the first time ever. Now mind you, I was on one knee (a minor detail, of course), but this was the first time I ever experienced 'dropping in' and it was a total rush. I haven't done that again since, but hopefully there will be more to come, soon. 

Other than that really cool experience, there are only two other very distinct experiences that I can recall from the last seven days of the challenge. 

Thursday, December 4, 2008: First time surfing at Punta de Lobos. While this was incredibly amazing and an absolutely beautiful place to surf, it was somewhat overshadowed by the even more incredibly amazing and beautiful surfers floating around in the water close to me. And they were really good, which made them even more beautiful. And I was working really hard at playing it cool, a.k.a. trying to not flail around while sitting on my board, as everyone else seems to be able to do it effortlessly. After getting the 'OK' from Val ("You know, it's not out of the ordinary to strike up a conversation out in the water") I chatted with one of them for a bit, learning they were professional windsurfers in town for a photoshoot from Australia, via Maui. Not bad. And while he could have been making up every word he said, I believed every word he said, until a law of physics I'm pretty sure I learned in Mr. Hart's grade 11 class came into effect:

gw=ifs+(hpw*2)+bsd+w

which loosely translates as:

giant wave (crashing directly on top of me) = inexperienced floating surfer  +  (hot pro windsurfers x 2)  +   beautiful sunny day  +  water

I shook that one off, and I'm sure I looked really cool while doing it, but didn't stick around for much longer after that. On to the other distinct experience.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008: Last challenge day. Nothing crazy or amazing about the surf. This thing happened about an hour after I got out of the water. Had a shower, ate some breakfast, went to my room and had my head tilted to the side as I was blow-drying my hair, when all of a sudden, I swear on my really expensive wetsuit, 1/2 cup of water poured out of my nose. And I'm really good at eyeballing measurements. It just kept pouring out, in a huge stream. And I was more fascinated than worried, and I wasn't surprised at all, really, as I'm sure sea water has made it to the far reaches of the back of my brain. 

I left my room to explain this craziness to Chris, who stopped me after, "Oh my god the weirdest thing just happened to me - ", with, " what, water poured out of my nose? Yeah, that's happened to me before, lots; it happened to Val once when she was waiting tables." So apparently one of the coolest things that has happened to me post-surf is a regular occurrence in the surfing world. This is what they need to include in the handbook for beginner surfers.

So anyway, that was it. Slightly anti-climactic, but as I say again and again, I feel like I improve every time I get out in the water. 

Promise to post again sometime soon.

Goodbye my Australian-via-Maui loves.....

xoxo

Jane

Challenge Days #9, #10, #11, #12, #13, #14, and #15: Whoops

Have apparently been a bit preoccupied with things other than blogging. Surfing, the main one. Receiving overpriced VIP Madonna ticket and squealing every time I think about the concert, another (it wastes a lot of time; you'd be surprised. C'mon, she's a cultural icon, people). Getting silly drunk and staying in bed til 4 pm, yet another. Nonetheless, I finished the 15 straight days. Will update on the last seven days soon.

Lo siento,

xoxo

Jane 

Challenge Days #6, #7, and #8: 'Meh'

I've decided not to post everyday during this challenge, as a few days ago I came to the realization that posting about it for fifteen straight days would not only be painful for me to write about (it already was), it would most likely be much worse for you to read about. Shark and big wave phobia can only be discussed so much. Also, before the challenge began, I assumed that significant progress would be made everyday that I would be able to write about post-surf. Not so. 

So here is a broad summary of the last few days, Challenge Days #6, #7, and #8. 

Chris's tips. I've been testing them out for the last few days. Despite me trying to build them up for days in order for them to be revealed as fantastic breakthroughs that changed my surfing life, this regrettably is not the case. Still, I have found that they've helped. Why I ever thought that a few tips could automatically help me catch waves was where I went wrong in the first place.

Last week, Chris decided that I was worthy of some insider surfing information that an older, wiser surfer once passed on to him when he was learning. He informed me that these tips changed his life. Tip 1) Look behind you at the wave as it's approaching, and Tip 2) After you know where the wave is, look in the direction you want to go.

Sounds simple, right? Well apparently it wasn't for Chris way-back-when, and it definitely wasn't for me, so wipe that smug little grin off your face. Until last week, I was more of a 'hold-on-tight-grit-your-teeth-say-a-little-prayer-look-straight-forward-when-a-wave-is-approaching' type. Before the weekend, I was watching the waves approaching from afar, waiting for a good one to come, positioning my board forward, then holding on for dear life, in an 'oh jeez' squinty-eyed way, until I felt the wave pick me up from behind. Looking back, this doesn't make a heck of a lot of sense, although it makes the entire experience slightly less terrifying. As a result, this new method of 'looking at the wave as it's approaching' has produced more "holy shiiiIIIIITTTTT!!!"s in the last three days than it has in the last couple of months. Think about it: seeing a wave about to crash on top of you is a lot scarier than looking forward, knowing in your mind it is going to happen, but never actually seeing it.

Unfortunately, the last three days have either been windy, flat, or mushy, so I've not been able to try out these tips in ideal conditions. And I was not able to try out these tips to the best of my abilities today as I was not in tip-top shape for surfing. Today, get this, I had to get up at the ungodly hour of 6:45 to get my surf in. Yes, you heard me right, 6:45.  That's a.m. for those of you unsure if a human being can actually rise at that ridiculous time. So as a result I basically laid on my board, half asleep, in the water. 

Now I know what a lot of you are saying: "I get up earlier than 6:45 am everyday. Jane is a big, whiny loser." Had I been in Canada, reading someone else's blog full of complaints about getting up at 6:45 am, I probably would have scoffed at my computer screen and immediately called a friend to join in on the scoff-fest, just like you are thinking about doing right now. But hold the phone. Getting up at 6:45 am in Canada and getting up at 6:45 am in Chile are two completely different times. Scientific studies show that they're not actually the same time. 

I would honestly equate getting up at 6:45 am in Chile to getting up at 3:45 am in Canada. It just doesn't happen, unless you work in a bakery, have another type of crazy early-starting job, or are just naturally weird.

The schedule people run on is just different here. Things I've observed in support of this 'different' schedule.

-Eating supper after 11 pm. Common.

-Keeping young children out incredibly late. For example babies, at concerts, at 2 am. I saw more than one at a concert a few weeks ago.

-I think I've mentioned the crazy party schedule before. The only time other than today that I've seen 6:45 am was when I was up until then partying, eventually having an 'oh-god-is-that-the-sun-coming-up' realization.

-Old people taking brisk walks in windbreakers at 1:30 am on Friday night, like it's 8:30 pm on a Sunday. Imagine curly white hair, shiny teal and pink flowery windbreakers, with pleated windbreaker pants. The most embarrassing part of this observation is that they were briskly walking past me as I was walking home after calling it a night.

Hopefully all of these examples adequately explain my poor showing out in the waves today.

And as I've been able to say for the last seven nights, tomorrow's another day to try it all out again. And I will, and I'll let you know how it all pans out. 

Heading for bed ridiculously early tonight,

xoxo

Jane