Caught the surfing bug during Christmas at home, but I live in Linköping, Sweden.
Song: Rare Happiness by Hunee
I lived in Linköping, Sweden for more than 5 years. It was fun, but I developed an unhealthy attachment to my research (as all PhDs do). Even with all that love for my research, there was something missing. I didn't know what it was, but I was not complete. It feels like one day I woke up and said, "The hell with it, I want to surf and I'm going to do it." I have a few emails I sent to a friend in 2013 about it, but I am not sure where it all began.
“There we go, fear. This word is so annoying, I wish it would only be used in the context of predator-prey rather than my everyday.”
There we go, fear. This word is so annoying, I wish it would only be used in the context of predator-prey rather than my everyday. I was deathly afraid of the ocean, the waves, and just cold salt water on my relaxed hair. For those who know, I carried on with the age old tradition of breaking the bonds of the keratin structure of my hair so that it would be straight. Which was a good excuse to never get to know the ocean. However, during my PhD, all my fears became overwhelming. The fear of not finishing, the fear of never being a good scientist, the fear of disappointing myself and my supervisor, the fear of this path not being the right one, and all the other fears. However, the fear of the ocean superseded all of this. One day I was talking to my dad about fears and I told him I needed to surf. I thought that if I could gain enough respect for and know more about the waves, I wouldn't be afraid. Then if I conquered this one, all other fears would be minuscule. So one morning in the summer of 2014 (I think), I borrowed my dad's car and drove to Newport Beach for what would be the beginning of a love affair.
The surf school is no longer there (not surprised, it wasn't the greatest experience now that I have sampled a few other surf schools). I paid way too much for a guy to tell me over and over "STAND UP!". I don't think he got why I was there or even realised how scared I was. This is all in retrospect, of course.
I didn't stand up.
Two hours of "STAND UP!" won't help someone who all they can think about is the shark under the board and drowning. NB: I am a fairly strong swimmer, I competed as a pre-teen and teenager. However, I know the ocean is not a pool. So I didn't stand up. But I fell in love. My love gave me the moment of calm just before you push up and jump to your knees (for me, I am at knees here). My love gave me the exhilaration as you are moving fast to the shore, and the return to calmness after you realise you are still alive. Two hours of push ups, not really standing, and I was the happiest person on the beach. I went home and that was all I could talk about. Even though the flight back to Sweden was incredibly painful, I was happily in pain. At one point the air hostess had to help me cut my food. I didn't even know those parts of my body existed. Yet, I had the biggest smile on my face. My first wetsuit experience, my first time on a surf board, and my first time in the ocean past my knees. This was brilliant. When I left that first surfing lesson, a part of me came alive. This part of me, I had no clue existed. It was just there, waiting for me to find it. I returned to Sweden and looked up all the places in Sweden to surf, then I saw 'beware of floating ice'. *dead. Learning to surf in Sweden wasn't going to happen for me.
So, I buried this part of me and concentrated on finishing my PhD and other things. I don't think it was a mistake, in retrospect, because I really love who I am now and I don't think I would be like this if I continued then, and got Titanic(ed) by ice floes. Fast forward to April 2017, and I returned to my love in warmer conditions. What happened in those three years? I started looking for the rest of me. Surfing is the part of me now. Every weekend I get, I plan a trip. I will tell stories from each of my trips in this blog.
My life is centred around working really hard during the week then catching a flight late Friday night, learning to surf Saturday, and Sunday and getting back to London before 11 pm on Sunday night to start the week all over again. Universe save my wallet. I have rationalised now that I have to surf to maintain my mind. I want to surf for the sole reason of not being afraid anymore.
First written July, 29th 2017