Surfing: Kind of like life.

As far vertical as I got.

This past weekend it struck me that surfing seemed like a good idea.  A couple of my more sporty friends were heading down to Cornwall to take some surfing lessons.  It's been a bit since I'd been on an adventure, work is stressing me out, I love the ocean (oh, and there was the added value of driving on the wrong side, South England scenery and perhaps quant site-seeing on Sunday), so I thought, 'why not?'.

Some of you may be thinking, 'isn't it cold in England right now ... at least in the ocean?'  The answer is yes.   To be fair, the air was cool, but the water was actually quite refreshing, and with the wet suit I really did not feel the urge to get out of the water from coldness ... putting back on the wetsuit for the afternoon session, however .... chil-ly.

We got real lucky that the weather turned out as good as it did (which seems a bit ironic since at one point during the surf lesson I am sure shards of ice were falling from the sky and into my face), but we really did have some lovely blue skies and sun, which was unexpected.

We stayed the night in a renovated church in what barely could be called a village, complete with a stone arched bridge and a thatch-roofed cottage.  Big bonus was that they had a small local pub with delicious food, not a tourist in sight (except across my table), and the season's first pub quiz (!!).  Yes!!  After surfing for your first time ever, finding food, drink, and trivia within crawling distance is oh ... so ... awesome.  The locals were kind, funny, and accommodating - they even gave us proper congrats when 'the Americans' got the highest score on the 'Potluck' round.  Their advice was to start reading the paper.  Fair enough.

After a good night's sleep, we woke and attempted to lift ourselves out of bed with our exhausted bodies and grab a fulfilling breaksfast.  The Cornwall region is known for 'Clotted Cream Tea'.  Now, in the English classes I took adjectives came before the noun, and thus I expected this to be a cup of tea, with cream in it, and chunks.  Much to my delight - no.  This refers to the common practive of having a tea (so in this case tea is a verb) - accompanied by a 'scone' (which to Americans is a buttermilk biscuit) with a sweet, buttery, creamy concoction on the side (the clotted cream).  Whoa.  Good.  They even make ice cream out of this clotted cream.  I'll have to forget I ever had this stuff to avoid the eventual cardiac arrest if I were to develop a habit.

After breakfast we started on our long trip home, passing through the small old fishing village Clovelly.  Very cute, more exercise, a local crab sandwich, donkeys, lobster cages,  fresia flowers, a cute dog, a cat next to a seafood sign ... all things that make for a perfect Sunday stop.  And then the five hour drive back to London.  I ... can't ... move ... my ... arms ...

I have to say, as I was heel over head with a facial enema of ocean water it dawned on me how symbolic this weekend was of my life right now ... this new job was like a tidal wave crashing on me.  I could see it coming, I knew it was huge, and I know I will not handle it all the time.  But the tenacity to turn around after being bowled over, look at it straight on and say 'I will own you' - it is quite a parallel.  The goal the same ... see the rhythm, be patient and find the timing, know when to push yourself up and stand, and find the joy when you fall.  That is what surfing is ... a metaphor for how to tackle life, and a pretty darn good workout.  Thanks Amy.

<>