Surfing Bali

Surfing Bali may just be the "coolest" thing we've done during the past six months of travel and work.

And how cool I've been itching to be! More farm work? Please. Teach more English? Puhlease. I'm heading to Bali, baby, ergh, I mean, bro (bro? bro!), to surf! Steps strutted, sunglasses on, never off, and biceps flexed, I'm heading to Bali!

We landed, all cool (Larissa was not reading Wuthering Heights on the plane, and I was certainly not completing KenKen puzzles). We tried to catch the sunset but, intercepted, the sun settled instead for a soft landing inside some dense, grey clouds that were, we soon discovered, holding the night's rain as well. Rather dark at that point ("Will you take off those sunglasses already?"), Larissa led us to a bar/restaurant where fried rice, Bintang beer, and the surf report were consumed.

Next day, surf day! Mind you, my pretensions and nonchalant ego towards my surfing debut are due to an applicable background: swimming, say, reaching the state finals in Florida, should help, as should those years spent skateboarding Bergen County's mean streets and snowboarding Vermont's oft-icey mountains. Larissa was comfortable in her own right -- nationally ranked synchronized swimmer and years of snowboarding. Sure, we were excited. Thrilled, even. But, throwing up a cool front, we stayed down low.

Enter surboard rental shop:

Andrew (casually looks around): You know, just looking for two boards.

Surf Shop Dude (fortunately, a friendly local): Alright. 6, 7, 8, 10?

Andrew: Nah man, it's cool, we just want one board each. Two (holds up two fingers to help translate) boards total.

Surf Shop Dude (confused look turns to smile): I meant size. 6-foot, 10-foot. This your first time surfing?

Andrew: Yeah, but, you know, when I was younger. . .

Surf Shop Dude: Let's see. . . Ok, these two are perfect.

Not so surfer cool, these 8-foot padded boards decorated with sea creature cartoons.

I spent the ten minute walk mumbling under my breath and under the immense weight of the board, which balanced as so because it's weight and width proved any other carrying method impossible. Once we saw the waves, though, we stopped. Maybe Surf Shop Dude had a point about using these beginner boards for these Bali waves, these mountains of water that made me consider those lessons offered or trying to find a helmet somewhere or. . .Wait, what? Reason? That's totally onshore, while that wicked awesome dude -- me -- is powerstroking his way through the waves and into position to catch a big one. Oh yeah, gone surfing, let's do this!

I stumbled ashore, a bit anticlimactically, a few minutes later. My first thought was to shake my hair, nod to the nearest surfer and attempt a comment about the knarly waves the Surf Gods brought in today. But my shin was bleeding, and one of the three fins on the board was broken, so I let out an instinctive, New York "%#$&!!!" instead. Another wave crashed in, flipping the board over to reveal the smiling sea creature cartoons. I called the board stupid ("Stupid board!") and then searched for Larissa.

I found her standing up on her board, surfing! Ever so smart, so logical, Larissa chose to tackle the smaller waves closer to shore and then work her way back. By the time I reached her -- my cool front down, my ego broken with the fin -- she was up again (goofy stance) and I was shouting, cheering, clapping. She was still acting cool, but I could feel her smile. Giving in, she gave me a big high five and then I went back out to follow her example. By sunset we were riding some decent sized waves, and by day two we were cool again, riding 7-foot fiberglass surfboards.

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P.S. This is taking place in Kuta, the main tourist area of Bali. Combine a lacrosse player with a surfer bum and you're left with a bro that just loves broin' out and broin' up a Spring Break atmosphere all over Kuta. This is all good fun until the drinks are downed and the brosephs of all ages become surprisingly rude and offensive -- the worst tourists we've seen throughout our travels. The casual observer will begin to understand why it's said that the locals here love the money, but hate the tourist. If you're going, stay in Legian or Seminyak -- same stretch of beach, same food, about the same prices, cleaner, and fewer bros.

P.P.S We missed the Indonesian tsunami and volcano eruption, as we had moved further inland to Ubud a few days before both disasters hit. We may stay in Ubud for longer than expected -- a post about that soon.