Today my boyfriend could barely contain his excitement. I was finally going to surf. After getting breakfast, we headed to the shop and got suited up for the waves. Wearing a yellow t-shirt over my black wetsuit, I headed to the beach feeling like a giant penguin. We were split into groups and assigned an instructor who told us about proper pop-up techniques and what wildlife we may encounter. Armed with a couple practice attempts, we headed for the shallows. Trying to reach the waves turned out to be much more complicated than carrying the surfboard to the water. The smaller waves rolled through, scattering people and surfboards in every direction. Scrambling to get my feet back under me, I again started for the deeper water. I was nearly to the instructor when a wave crashed into me, carrying myself along with everyone else back to the beach.
Many attempts later, I reached the teacher who said, “Quick jump on!”
Afraid of being swept under again, I jumped onto the board mere seconds before the wave carried me back to the beach. For a brief moment, it felt like flying as I glided over the top of the water. Unfortunately, I had no idea how to stop or get off, so my graceful ride ended in yet another crash. A few more tries of struggling to keep the surfboard from dragging me around, I decided to call it a day. Setting the surfboard down and awkwardly peeling off the wetsuit, I stretched out on my towel, content to soak up the sun. This bucket list item was definitely not going to be my new favorite pastime. Tomorrow, however, held promise with the kayaking tour scheduled for the morning. If I only knew then how much more eventful that day was going to be.
