Surf week in El Salvador, celebrating the end of Seth’s Standardized American Tests in Guatemala, is in full swing. We already feel like we’ve been in the pueblo of El Tunco (pop. 600) for several weeks. Our new friends are all around—it’s hard to walk to either the burrito place or the surf shop without seeing our surfing friends, soccer buddies, or the town drunk.
Today was our first real surf lesson, where we paddled for 20 minutes to get out to the point break. Our instructors don’t speak much English and I don’t have a clue what they’re saying when I ask them to describe what they’re looking for in a wave. “Suave” is the only idea I’ve been able to reconstruct in English. In the morning, before 10 am, the waves are “softer” which makes them easier to ride.
When a suficiently “suave” wave would appear, my instructor would say “Este, Este, Este” very excitedly, and I would start paddling madly. He’d give me a push at the opportune moment, so usually the wave would catch me. The hardest part is getting from the prone position to the standing position—falling into a giant onrushing wave that rips the board away from you isn't quite as dangerous as it sounds ...
I’ll conveniently abridge history and highlight the 3 waves I caught today by myself. Seth is not far behind, which is impressive considering today was his 2nd hour of surfing ever. My friend Strock, on vacation from Richmond, is getting up consistently and leading the charge against both sunburn and dehydration. We buy gallons of water for $1 and drink it straight.
Something that’s not quite as suave is my swimsuit marathon—50 hours and counting in the zebra swim trunks. Don’t worry Mom, I’ll wear them out so you’ll never see or smell them!
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