When I was eight years old, I saw the movie Blue Crush. You know, that one where Kate Bosworth lives in Hawaii and surfs in competitions until she gets into an accident and becomes truamatized but eventually finds the inner strength to win Pike in Oahu? Yeah, well ever since I saw that movie, I´ve wanted to learn to surf. There´s just something inherently cooler about a girl who can stand sideways on a board in the middle of the ocean, and Kate Bosworth was certainly no exception. I dreamed about being just like her; listening to Bob Marley in my Volkswagen van with the board rack on top while driving to the beach, getting bleached hair and tanned skin, and being better than every boy in the water. But since I wasn´t even four feet tall yet, I knew I´d have to wait a little while before putting on that wetsuit and paddling through the frigid seas of Half Moon Bay or Santa Cruz.
Three years later, I finally had my chance. I was in Hawaii, on Kate´s turf. It was the perfect setting; the water was warm, the waves were small, my instructor was hot, and my rented board was huge, stable, and spongy. It didn´t take me long to stand up. To this day, I can´t even describe how good that felt. I began to get up every time, smiling and cheering as I rode the baby waves all the way in. My mom clapped from her towel on the sand and my instructors laughed while I continued to show off. I was envisioning myself winning Mavericks and basking in the excitement of my newfound talent when the tide came in and a rogue wave knocked me off my high horse. Suddenly I was underwater, getting pummeled and smacked by a force I´d never felt before. My leash was wrapped around both my ankles, and I felt the weight of my board dragging me into the depths of the Pacific. My lungs burned as my air supply began to run out, and I tried frantically to rise out of the sea. Finally, I felt my foot brush against the ocean floor. I pushed myself upward, realizing with simultaneous relief and embarassment that I had been about two feet away from air the entire time. My eyes burned with saltwater and the fresh cuts on my legs stung. This was not what I´d signed up for. Kate Bosworth had betrayed me. Surfing was no longer a dream, but a sham. Looking around, I said goodbye to the world I had so wanted to be a part of, the world that, I felt, had almost been the cause of my untimely death. Without hesitation, I grabbed my board and marched out of the water, throwing it down in front of my mom. “Return it,” I commanded, “I am never doing this again.”
Despite my fierce, eleven year old conviction never to return to the waves, I tried about four more times over the years, and each time it was the same. I´d get up, I´d feel confident, I´d think about maybe pursuing it more, and then I would get slammed and upset and kick myself for thinking that I could ever learn to surf. So, when we traveled to San Juan del Sur, I was a little nervous to get back out into the water. The same desire I had when I was eight stuck with me; despite all the times I´d gotten thrashed by the ocean, I still wanted to be Kate Bosworth. Nevertheless, I couldn´t help but wonder if something would happen again to make me give up. Well, the ocean was reliably rough, and I came out of the water with a rash on my stomach, bruises on my hips, and arms that felt like lead, but the difference this time was that I couldn´t wait to get back out and try again. So, for a couple days in San Juan, I rented a board and kicked it in the baby waves, standing up almost every time and getting back in the water even when I fell. I don´t know what changed this time, but for some reason I wanted to keep going despite the fact that I felt inches away from death. I don´t know if I´ve gotten better at surfing or better at coping, but something has definitely changed. Maybe while we´re in Puerto Viejo, I´ll rent a board and go out once more. And if I don´t, I can always console myself with the fact that the gold coast will always be waiting for me if I ever get the urge to be like Kate again.
Emily
