Life of Bear


Surfing Safari

The gloomy weather outside and general lack of creativity has caused my mind to wander back to the warm sunny days of Cape Town Summers past. Most particularly, one day back in December 2008, where I attempted to learn to surf. To be honest, I am surprised that my swiss-cheese mind can even recall such a care-free memory of yesteryear – at the moment, my mind seems to be weighed down with grown up concerns like kitty-cat medical aid, how can I continue to look busy at work for 8 hours a day and how I’ll never really forgive my parents for forbidding me to go and pick apples on a Kibbutz in Israel (in all fairness, the holy war was kinda at its peak back then) but yet, I found myself recalling the smell of the Muzienberg beach on a Sunday afternoon (the air rife with the smell of seaweed and family-sized buckets of KFC) and the encumbering experience of having sand and sea water blown backwards through your sinus cavities – ah memories.

The feel of the warm sand beneath your toes, that excruciating pain when you snag your skin in the wetsuit zipper and the feeling of doing a underwater somersault while the powerful sea current treats you like a toy boat in a storm – it’s all pretty damn unbeatable. But the best thing about surfing is when you manage to stand up on the board, control the wave and ride it to the end of its furl, to be greeted by your cheering fans.

<I assume this must be the best thing about surfing. I never quite got past the pathetically scrambling to lie on the board properly (size C boobs are a bit of an encumberment when it comes to lying flat on a surfboard – throw in some sticky wax and you have a right party).

I’m glad that I savoured the memory of learning to surf because to be perfectly honest, it’s highly unlikely I will ever really learn how to do it again – these recent shark attacks have make me rather uneasy about being in the water (almost feel like it would be shooting fish in a barrel – excuse the bad pun!). But let me tell you – when you wear contact lens and your vision is a tad distorted after taking a salty tumble, an innocent blurry rock and a good dose of blind paranoia (that was another clever pun by the way!) can quickly lead to an embarrassing situation. <they may call me the chick who cried “shark”>.

BUT

I resolve this Summer of ’10 to get up at least once on the board. and make it to the end of the beach. I’ll keep you posted.

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