During my stay in Biarritz I made sure to budget some time to take a day trip down to San Sebastian. Northern Spain is the heart of the Basque / Euskadi Region. You really feel it when you cross the border from Hendaye to Irun. There is something that lingers in the air of a separatist city. The only thing I can really relate it to is paddling out at surf spot that you didn't grow up at. A little bit of tension keeps you on your toes, and if you're tuned in enough to sense it you know how to show respect. As long as I can remember I have wanted to be older, to play with the bigger kids, to be an upper classmen, to start my career, to be more advanced in my career, etc... Zurriola surprised me with a waist high clean swell and a lesson in life. I went down to the surfboard rental kiosk and rapped out with kid working there and rented a board for an hour. While walking down to the waters edge I overheard a kid in his late teens giving a surfing lesson in broken English. After my first wave I though to myself, "Why the fuck didn't you do this in college?" I guess what I was asking myself is why didn't I move to Spain for a summer to polish my Spanish, look for that European summer love that I never had, or to just adapt to a foreign culture. After all these kids were doing the exact same thing I had except in Spanish. On the train ride back to Biarritz I realized that for the first time in my life I wished I was younger. Was this a sign of getting old or a peak moment in life when you still want to be older yet wish you could be younger? I think it is all of the above. However if you told me 4 years ago while I was in California that I'd be living in NYC today I would have put down my burrito and then proceeded to tell you to put down your crack pipe. Who knows maybe someday life will place me back on the shores of Zurriola on a more permanent basis. But one thing I know is to never say never.
My first memory of Biarritz is standing in the Grande Plage parking lot with my sister and brother-in-law in December of 1991. While I macked down on my chocolate eclair I thought man that surf looks cold. Sixteen years later I am emailing Franck Bywalski of Extreme Video asking if I could borrow his longboard while I was in town. I did not expect him to offer me the spare bedroom in his beach side bachelor pad overlooking Grande Plage. None the less he did, and made my fourth journey to Biarritz the most decadent to date. Surfwise I caught some fun logging waves out front but my best session was up the road in Anglet at a break called Le Barre. I caught the wave of the day that session only to be dropped in by a french girl on a longboard. She turned around and in a patented french girl accent yelled out "soooorry....." How did she know my native tongue? I hadn't spoken a single word to anyone while I was in the water. More importantly how can you be angry at such a cute accent?
Ah... Paris. Beautiful women, decadent street cafe dwelling, and yes little patience towards Americans. For example a young drunk frenchman approached me in the St. Andres des Art neighborhood and asked me 2 questions. "Are you an American?" "Do you like George Bush?" My response was. "Yeah I'm an American and no I don't like George Bush." Then I asked him "Do you like Napoleon?" His response was "...well no." I guess the reason I tell that story is because whenever I think of Paris I think of extreme beauty and mild cultural conflict. Not enough conflict to ever drive you away, but pull you closer. I mixed a bit of business and pleasure for 5 days, but the whole time i kept my eyes on the prize, a weeks vacation chasing Basque waves.
A two-day pit stop on the way out to Vegas before a tradeshow placed my colleague J.P. and I on Chris Christenson’s doorstep in Cardiff by the Sea, California. There were some ankle snappers breaking at Cardiff but nothing to write home about. Chris being proud owner of a brand new 19ft Boston Whaler decided that the calm seas equated to the perfect opportunity to take the boat out on its first long distance voyage to Catalina. The outbound trip was an hour and fifteen minutes harbor-to-harbor Dana Point to Avalon. After having lunch in Avalon we decided to troll the east coast over to Two Harbors. We anchored up for a while, and went spear fishing, which just turned out to be snorkeling. Signs of the west swell that wasn’t supposed to arrive until the following morning prompted us to pull anchor. Immediately we noticed that the seas were bigger than we had anticipated. Chris was certain that J.P. was going to be the first to get seasick, but the sub-par burrito that I had for lunch had its money down on another contender.
A quarter of the way back the voltage on the engine took a frightening dive. The brand new boat proved to have a faulty alternator. Faced with an “oh shit do we turn around and go back" moment we decided to power through it. Just when we were smack dab between Catalina and the mainland we saw a powerboat about our same size b lining it right into our path. The last thing we wanted to do was slow down and allow the engine to cut out, but Chris had no other choice than to do so. No more than two seconds later, what seemed to be a grey golf course, surfaced 30 yards in front of us. In unison J.P. and I let out an “OH SHIT…………” The other boat was chasing a whale, and I shit you not, we were about thirty yards from t-boning that thing. We managed to make it back in three hours, more than double the time it took us to get out there. We pulled up to the dock and Chris yelled out “Tie us off on the dock Florida.” My sea legs nearly got best of me because I barely cleared the rail narrowly avoiding taking a dip. Fortunately fate had decided on a happier ending. There are some photos up in the California section of my photo blog.
Here's a little something for all you haters! Just for the record I do not wear wizard boots, i hold a steady job, and i bathe regularly. Enjoy this clip
A development trip to visit our tee shirt and sweatshirt manufacturers placed my co-worker Steve Green and I on the beautiful shores of Lima, Peru. After clearing customs Steve said "Hey that guy is holding up a sign that says Moose Huerta" I felt like the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, and after a 30 min drive we arrived at the illustrious Hotel Olivar. "I yelled to the driver yo holmes smell yah later. I looked at my kingdom. I was finally there to sit on my throne as the Prince of Bel-Air", well room 322 at least...
::Con Queso?:: We spent four days with the boys over at American Flex Printing. We never had much direct dialogue with the team; mainly because of the cultural divide between the indigenous Peruvians and the Peruvians of European descent. As much as Steve and I wanted to bro-down with the fellas we realized we needed to earn their respect. So after four days of my gringo Spanish we shared a few laughs. Usually at our expense. In fact the biggest laugh we got was when our buddy Luis Angel tried to describe to Steve how to say turquoise in Spanish (which is pronounced Tor-que-sah.) I thought he said "con queso" which translates to "with cheese" and I said it out loud. That one really brought the house down especially when I tried to play it off.
::Vamos a la playa:: My mother was born in Bolivia and the first time she saw the ocean was in Lima. She always describes it as one of her more frightening experiences , because as a little girl the waves seemed so gigantic. I packed my wetsuit hoping to rent a board and catch one of these Goliaths in my down time, but that never happened. In fact our only salvation was that Peruvians hold lunch and dinner very sacred. Had I suggested having a working lunch or dinner I may have gotten smacked in the mouth and rightly so. Maurice our Peruvian liason "unofficial mayor of Lima's textile industry" lead us in a sprint down to the beach right before sunset one evening to get a quick glimpse of lay out. Maurice also took us to a skate park but only for us to discover a series of decrepid ramps. You can bet 100 soles that the next trip will strategically be placed between two weekends of decadent leisure. Until then I will be dreaming of Inca Cola and Lomo Soltado, or maybe Ceviche with a Pisco Sour depending on my mood. Ay dios mio.. Hasta la proxima vez, Peru!
During my stay in Biarritz I made sure to budget some time to take a day trip down to San Sebastian. Northern Spain is the heart of the Basque / Euskadi Region. You really feel it when you cross the border from Hendaye to Irun. There is something that lingers in the air of a separatist city. The only thing I can really relate it to is paddling out at surf spot that you didn't grow up at. A little bit of tension keeps you on your toes, and if you're tuned in enough to sense it you know how to show respect.
As long as I can remember I have wanted to be older, to play with the bigger kids, to be an upper classmen, to start my career, to be more advanced in my career, etc... Zurriola surprised me with a waist high clean swell and a lesson in life. I went down to the surfboard rental kiosk and rapped out with kid working there and rented a board for an hour. While walking down to the waters edge I overheard a kid in his late teens giving a surfing lesson in broken English. After my first wave I though to myself, "Why the fuck didn't you do this in college?" I guess what I was asking myself is why didn't I move to Spain for a summer to polish my Spanish, look for that European summer love that I never had, or to just adapt to a foreign culture. After all these kids were doing the exact same thing I had except in Spanish. On the train ride back to Biarritz I realized that for the first time in my life I wished I was younger. Was this a sign of getting old or a peak moment in life when you still want to be older yet wish you could be younger? I think it is all of the above. However if you told me 4 years ago while I was in California that I'd be living in NYC today I would have put down my burrito and then proceeded to tell you to put down your crack pipe. Who knows maybe someday life will place me back on the shores of Zurriola on a more permanent basis. But one thing I know is to never say never.
