Life is good in Krui
As I sip my morning coffee in the communal area of The Mandiri Beach Club, I marvel at how life brought me here. It’s 5:30 in the morning, and The Lost Boys of Neverland are starting to wake up. I call us that because it seems we all got stunted in growth the moment our surf addiction kicked in. All we want to do is surf our brains out, and when we're not in the water, all we want to do is talk about the waves. I joke with my mom that I'm so glad I found this sport later in life because I wouldn’t have done anything else. I’d probably be a server somewhere with good waves, and that would be fine. I’d be happy as a clam. Safe to say, I’m glad though, I did my thing in business, that money doesn’t factor into my life decisions anymore, and I’m free to pursue my passions—surfing all day forever and ever.
Best coffee award
Liz is the animal whisperer, this puppy bit me a few days ago and with her, she melts.
One of The Lost Girls of Neverland
The Lost Boys (and girls) of Neverland.
A couple of days ago, I rode out on my scooter to the point, the long left I mentioned in my last post. The thirthy minute commute is heaven. I rode with my AirPods on, listening to French Caribbean music. When I was a few blocks from my destination, though, I heard a loud ruckus behind me and realized in shock that the back rack of my scooter had fallen off and was dragging my new award winning, Inferno surfboard. Somehow it had flipped and the tip of it was dragging on the asphalt, getting a proper sharpening—in a bad way. Uppon closer inspection one of the fins had been pushed in and the frame for it was broken too. Oh God, Oh God, take my eyes, but not my surf board!!
My other board was in for ding repair after suffering a huge crack along the middle, so I was left with no option but to ride the Inferno, messed-up tip + broken fin and all. When it rains, it pours, as they say. I parked a few blocks away and walked down a little road with hundreds of super tall coconut trees above. I made a little prayer that at this moment, none of them would decide to detach and fall on my head, abruptly ending my life. But hey, if it’s my turn to go, and I go like this—walking in nature under coconut trees on my way to surf—I’m at peace with it. No worries here.
This being my spare board, that I almost never ride and at the moment not my favorite, it took a minute to get used to. The waves were a bit small—almost too small to be fun—but it was a Sunday and therefore empty with everyone being hungover from Saturday night shenanigans. After a couple drops and turns, I got my footing and started to enjoy it. Confidence is key and I was feeling it more and more. She wasn't that bad after all, this inferno surfboard. I think, once I have her fixed, I'll ride her a bit more.
When waves are small, it can be dangerous to surf a short board. The swell doesn't hold it's shape because the volume of water coming in is so small, and the wave closes out a lot more in front of me. I have to be quick to read it (which I’m still not very good at) and even quicker to exit out if I see it crumbling in front of me , sometimes immediately after takeoff. It can be a bit annoying to say the least.
I paddled for one wave that I obviously didn’t read properly, and as I was gliding into it, just before takeoff, I saw it wanting to crumble ahead and decided last minute to bail. I was too commited already and went over the little wave (we say over the falls in surf lingo), somersaulting into it and taking the board and its three sharp fins with me. I fell right on one of those fins and immediately felt a piercing pain in my thigh. Excruciating! I had black yoga pants on to protect me from the reef and the sun, and thank God for them because it would have probably been a much deeper cut otherwise. The fin didn’t even pierce the fabric; it just sliced right through, fabric and all, into my skin.
My friend Daniel, coincidentally visiting from Hawaii at the same time as me, saw the whole thing happen. When I checked under the pants and saw I was actually cut, I called to him. When he registered the fear in my eyes, he started charging toward me. It was very cute, actually, to see the worry in his eyes and how much he cared. I had a pink hair tie on my leash, and I guess he thought it was blood for a second, which really scared him.
When he saw the actual cut and I asked if he thought I needed stitches, he got a playful smirk on his face and looked at me with a combo of sweetness and pity, as if to say, "You are such a drama queen, Sophia!" Which, of course, I am. It’s part of my awesome personality, I declare.
My fin cut, I'm such a drama queen.
"No, Sophia, you’re okay, you won’t need stitches. It’s very minor, you will be fine," he said with a big smile that reached all the way to his twinkling blue eyes. All I could do was laugh at his reply and accept that I was safe and able to continue surfing with no issue, which I did. I met my friends Valentina and Keenan afterward for a delicious breakfast that cost all of three USD, and then went on to clean and disinfect the wound and tightly close it with butterfly tape. I was proud of my first fin cut—very proud—and very happy it was minor. Now I will have a very small scar on my leg to brag about.
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