I have had the following paragraph up on my screen for a week:
I am not remotely athletic. Not a whisper. Not a syllable. When it comes to anything involving dexterity, speed or grace, I am all thumbs and two left feet. (Someday I am going to draw a picture of that.) When I was younger and other kids were out playing sports, I was inside reading a book.
That's it. That's all I have managed to write about my week in Barbados. Blogging FAIL.
At any rate, this is what I tell people when they ask, "Did you surf?": Whether or not I "surfed" depends on your definition of surfing. If by surfing you mean standing up on the board, I did that. If you mean being able to catch your own wave, I did that, too.
But if your definition of surfing means catching your own wave and standing up on the board in the same sequence, well...
I'm kidding, for the most part. I kind of did manage to catch my own wave and then stand up on the board a couple times, though not gracefully. Those times I was attempting it on my own, we were at Surfer's Point, which I'm told can be lovely and smooth and full of baby waves, but which on these particular days had fast (for me) waves and a strong current. It's the current that exhausts you; all that paddling to get back out there, or even stay in one place, is murder -- i.e., excellent exercise -- on your arms. If only I could surf every day here in New York, my arms would look like Jennifer Aniston's.
Far better and more fun were the times we went to Freights Bay (pictured above) with the surf school, with which I took four lessons in all. The two days we went to Freights were the best for me. They had the babiest, gentlest waves there, and no current, so you had all the time in the world to paddle out and float in the beautiful clear water waiting for the waves to come.
And sure, it's much easier to stand up with an instructor holding your board and giving you a push and yelling instructions to you, but when you do manage to stand up and relax and comfortably ride that wave forever, so at ease on that board you feel like you're just standing up in the middle of your kitchen, it's a great feeling. One time at Freights, I caught a wave by myself (if "with the instructor standing next to me telling me what to do" counts) and rode it all the way, turning on purpose to follow that wave along the shore until it petered out. It was glorious. I felt almost like a real surfer.
Of course, I ended the week covered in bruises (also insect bites), of which this was by far the most impressive:
So that was surfing in Barbados. Am I a natural at it? No. Certainly, it was dismaying to look at the little kids easily picking it up after 20 minutes, whereas it took me a good three days. (Three days seems to be my learning curve -- it took me three days to learn to snowboard, too.) But for someone who's never been remotely athletic, and who usually does my best to avoid playing sports of any kind, I consider the enterprise a success. "Surfing" was fun. Bring on the baby waves.
