all "swell" and good

Back At It

2009-08-30T16:27:00.006-04:00

I know that this is what they all say, but seriously, it seems like only yesterday that I was out in the waves of Pichilemu, puking up coffee and strawberries, as I panicked my way around a huge and scary I-have-no-clue-what-to-do wave situation. But welcome to today, Jane Harley, August 30, 2009. Hard to believe that the coffee and strawberries incident was almost a year ago. Very hard to believe. And now I find myself back in Pichilemu for one more year, keen to perfect my very imperfect grasp on the Spanish language, putting off graduate school for just one more year, and in the meantime, learning, and I mean really learning, how to surf.

I arrived back here a week and a day ago, and since then I've been dreaming about shark attacks and ill-fitting wetsuits, a sure sign that it is my time to jump back on the horse, a.k.a. get in the icy cold waters of Pichilemu, Chile.

Luckily, Chris came by the school this morning and asked me if I'd like to go out for a surf with him. Unluckily, when he asked, I'd just finished downing my first (huge) cup of coffee in over a week without regular caffeine intake; with this rumbling around in my empty stomach my natural bad luck would have it that my first surf of this year would be complete with not a puking accident, but with a pooping-my-wetsuit accident. "TMI", you say; yes, probably, but these are the type of things that raced through my head as I walked toward la puntilla. It's been a while since I've been out there, and it's quite possible that I have forgotten absolutely everything I've learned about surfing, as in the last few months I've been partaking in a lot of nowhere-near-the-ocean, middle-of-Canada, lazy person activities.

So with my gun tight under my arm, suited up in my armour, I walked out to the water with Chris on this very cloudy, dreary, wintery Pichilemu morning. But as I paddled out the channel after him (he instructed me that "we're going to get outside"), I realized that I hadn't forgotten much. The one thing I had forgotten was how not very good I am, as well as how easily scared I am (but in dreams you're better at everything, right? Plus, I'm getting wimpy in my old age). Those first few waves that I had to duck-dive brought memories of coffee and strawberries rushing back. Still, it only took a few minutes to get my rhythm back, and I felt pretty comfortable out on my board.

Unfortunately, the waves today were reminiscent of my very favourite surfing analogy that Val bestowed upon me last year: they were "like a drunk guy in bed". The waves looked like fun, they looked like they were getting bigger and ready to ride, I was getting excited and ready to go, but the waves just never broke, and when they did, there was not much there to surf. They were fat and mushy. Once again, probably "TMI", but more for Mom and Dad this time. But of course, this is all second-hand knowledge, obviously just what Val told me. OK?

Anyway, I had a good paddle and a fun time out there with Chris. Next time, waves.

And so I'm back in Pichilemu. I've re-connected with all my students, met up with all my friends, and I've seen all my peeps: the fruit and vegetable stand peeps, the Ropa Americana peeps, the carniceria peeps, the El 9 peeps, the UGG boot peeps, as well as all the creepy, leery dudes that I love and missed so much. Good ol' Pichilemu.

Nos vemos. xo

Jane

what to do when there's nothing to do?

2009-03-16T18:12:00.005-04:00

Blog, I guess.

I inadvertently took a summer vacation, along with the rest of Pichilemu, and Chile, for that matter. While I meant to keep up the blog throughout the summer it was just not destined to be, what with my busy disco schedule and all. But now Pichilemu is a ghost town, back to the way it was when I started blogging, many months ago. Quiet, quiet, and more quiet. Eerie, actually.

Gone are the sleepy drunks in the park. Gone are the llamas on the beach wearing funny coloured jackets. Gone are the hordes of people walking as slowly as humanly possible down the sidewalk. Gone are the circus trucks, driving around after each other, wooing vacationers to come to THEIR circus, for only 'dos luca'.

More importantly than blogging, though, I would like to think that my summer in Pichilemu marked the turning point of me becoming an honorary Chilean. I took siestas. I ate empanadas on a regular basis. I used words like 'bacan' and 'fome'. And I went to the disco at a proper, Chilean hour: 3 am. Any earlier and I wouldn't have looked like a local.

There was some surfing progress too, but not as much as I would have liked. I got to take my sister, Kristen, out surfing for her first time ever. I would have to say that on her first day out, the waves were as close to perfect as possible. It was a truly 'buena onda' day; it seemed like there was someone on each wave, and I was cheering for them all. It was also fun being an instructor to Kristen. Verbalizing what I've learned in the last few months was not easy. Kristen did really well, regardless of my bad teaching, and even got to her knees on a few waves, much better than I can say for my first time out.

I think my personal surfing highlight of the summer was the 'party wave' I shared with my friends Maren and Nicole. We went out surfing together one evening, and were all quite close together (chatting - oops!), when the frothy foamy part of a big wave came up behind us. Instead of duck-diving it, we all turned around to try and catch it, and no sooner than I had stood up on my board, I looked to my left and there were both Maren and Nicole; Maren, a 'regular' looking right at me, and Nicole, a 'goofy', in between the two of us. It was the best feeling ever and I definitely had a silly grin on my face. I'm still not sure why Chris thought it was so funny when I told him it was "so 'Blue Crush' ", but I was channelling some serious Kate Bosworth, regardless of what anyone says.

More summer highlights: I got to travel to other parts of the country and be a 'guide' of sorts to my parents and their friends. We traveled to the south, flew over volcanoes, went to hot springs, hiked in the mountains, and most importantly, drank lots of Chilean wine. It was so cool that they were able to meet my fantastically cool adopted Pichi family, as well as see where I've lived and what I've been up to for the past six months.

But back to Pichilemu reality. And more importantly, back to surfing. I've got a limited time left to get good, and need to take advantage!

Until next time. xoxo

Jane

Like Nobody's Biznass

2009-01-15T18:10:00.003-03:00

Catching waves, that is. The obvious reason that I've been too busy to write my blog. That and the fact that I'm spending my days breaking up 7-year-old fist fights in my group class of eleven 5, 6, 7, and 8-year-olds. But I'm not even going to go there as it would upset the harmony I've found in my life since I actually, seriously, and honestly caught my first REAL wave.

Not quite sure what I was thinking up until this point, when I would say, "Yeah....I caught some waves..."

Here's how it was different. I went out surfing Monday evening for the first time in a few days. The waves have been said to be pretty small by other people's standards, but perfect in my books. Catch-able, therefore perfect. Now I know I keep going back to this, but when the waves are as big as they were when I was out today, I feel that the people who surf them must have some kind of death wish, as they are like moving, growing, terrifying walls of water. WAAAAAY too big for me. Unless I had a death wish, which I don't. Back to Monday.

So anyway, went out Monday evening. No wind, serene, sun getting ready to set, with nice, clean, decent sized waves. To reiterate, perfect for me.

Paddled out at the point, and there was no one out there, and I mean no one. It was peaceful, lovely, warm, sunny. Wondered why no one else was out there but then realized I should be thanking my lucky stars and knocking on wood, as it's summer here now, which means this town is overrun by mullets, moustaches, Ray-Bans, and fluorescent pink.

Paddled out as far as I could get but it was really currenty. Now I understand that's not a word but am going to continue using it in place of 'strong current' as everyone says it and it is accepted and understood.

So it was currenty. Back to the wave catching. Paddled out as far as I could. Observed the set for a while. Figured out a plan of attack. Paddled back in a bit, and watched the nice-sized, clean, lovely little wave come up behind me, pick me up, and poof! I was right on top of it. This is the point at which I've had trouble before: the decision to pull back a bit and be a big wimp, or go for it and potentially wreck and suffer the slightly unpleasant experience of being whipped around like I'm the spin cycle. Please remember, I'm in the process of mourning the loss of my daredevilishness, so this is slightly more difficult for me than it would have been, say, five years ago even. But in this case I made the correct decision of pushing down on the front of the front of the board, popping up (as opposed to my usual inching up as slowly as possible, hence the many posts talking about me riding out waves on my knee) and then stood up.

And didn't fall off! This one last bit is what made the difference. I'd been fooled before into thinking that when I stood up and immediately (meaning within 3-5 seconds) and tumbled off head over heels, or heels over head, that I had actually caught the wave. Well, I hadn't. But I did at this point. I even remember looking to the side of me as I was miraculously standing on this thing thinking, "Ahhh! There's the green part! I'm on the green part of the wave! Ahhh! I've caught the wave!"

And I actually rode it for quite a while, long enough to get far enough in to the beach that paddling back out was not an option. So I paddled into the beach, and walked back out to the point with a goofy grin on my face which I could not wipe off. Tried it again, but wasn't as successful as the first time.

Yet (here's the incredibly cheesy but unavoidable part) when I was out the second time I honestly felt this sense of calm; alone, out in the water, and watching the sun set after catching my first real wave. I felt inner peace.

That is until I left the water, walked up the beach, and crossed the street, only to come upon an area obviously designed to attract children, what with balloons, toys, trampolines, and inflatable slides, blasting Madonna's "Like a Virgin." Nothing can put the kibosh on a serene sense of inner peace than a scene like that.

But it was cool. And I went out the next day, and caught another one.

I didn't go out the following day, as I was in a kick the dirt, grumble about everything type of bad mood for no apparent reason.

But I did go out again today with my friend Maren, and we switched boards at one point, and on her nice big longboard I was catching waves like nobody's biznass.

It was cool. And so I am a surfer. Not a good one, but one. (Bow).

Will report back soon,

xoxo

Jane

Keep On Keepin' On...

2009-01-02T22:34:00.009-03:00

It's been a while, sorry! The last few weeks have kept me busy with all sorts of new and exciting things. Here, I'll prove it:

1) I finished class with my little devils in Santa Cruz, not a minute too soon. But aren't they cute?

2) I got my world rocked by Madonna, along with 74,999 close friends in Santiago. I mean come on, that's not a 50 year old bum.

3) I celebrated my 25th birthday...

with good friends and (adopted) family.

4) I helped bring some Christmas cheer to less fortunate Pichilemu-ans.

5) I relaxed in a sandy, beachy paradise for a sandy, beachy Christmas (my first ever without snow and minus temps - something I could get used to)...

and met a cute new friend frolicking in the sand.

6) I watched my slow, quiet little town get more and more busy,

7) And finally, and most recently, I rang in the new year with style...

in the greatest little town in the world, Pichilemu!

Happy new year, everyone! See you soon.

xoxo

Jane

15 Day Surf Challenge Recap

2008-12-16T20:48:00.002-03:00

In this re-cap of my challenge, you're not going to read posts like any of my previous ones. No, sir-ee bob, no detailed descriptions of puking, wave or shark fear, or even early mornings, for that matter (although there was one more of those horrid things before the challenge finished...ughhhh). You're going to read some real surfer material. Yeah, baby.

But because the challenge finished one week ago today, I must admit that not many actual real surfer material stories stick out in my mind, mostly for the reason that I have a good, although short, memory. So actually, there's only one real 'surfer material'-worthy story. One crowning moment for me in the last seven days of the challenge. I 'dropped in'.

Wednesday, December 3, 2008: Now had I been able to figure out how to add a third column on this blog for "Chris and Val's Surf Term of the Week" (thanks for your help, Auntie Barb, but I'm useless) you would already know what this means. But because I didn't, and because (many of) you don't, here goes:

I was out surfing with my friend Andres again, and the waves were a decent size. As you all know, I've been riding whitewater for quite sometime, which means standing up on the white frothy part after the wave has broken. Not this time. By pulling all of my surf knowledge together in one little gem of a millisecond (especially Chris' excellent tip of looking over my shoulder while paddling into the wave), I could tell that this one wave I was on was going to be good. No sooner than I realized that, I realized I had a decision to make. I was at the peak of the wave, and I could either back off, or go head first (on a big piece of foam and fibreglass) down a precariously steep wall of green water. I chose option two for the first time ever. Now mind you, I was on one knee (a minor detail, of course), but this was the first time I ever experienced 'dropping in' and it was a total rush. I haven't done that again since, but hopefully there will be more to come, soon.

Other than that really cool experience, there are only two other very distinct experiences that I can recall from the last seven days of the challenge.

Thursday, December 4, 2008: First time surfing at Punta de Lobos. While this was incredibly amazing and an absolutely beautiful place to surf, it was somewhat overshadowed by the even more incredibly amazing and beautiful surfers floating around in the water close to me. And they were really good, which made them even more beautiful. And I was working really hard at playing it cool, a.k.a. trying to not flail around while sitting on my board, as everyone else seems to be able to do it effortlessly. After getting the 'OK' from Val ("You know, it's not out of the ordinary to strike up a conversation out in the water") I chatted with one of them for a bit, learning they were professional windsurfers in town for a photoshoot from Australia, via Maui. Not bad. And while he could have been making up every word he said, I believed every word he said, until a law of physics I'm pretty sure I learned in Mr. Hart's grade 11 class came into effect:

gw=ifs+(hpw*2)+bsd+w

which loosely translates as:

giant wave (crashing directly on top of me) = inexperienced floating surfer + (hot pro windsurfers x 2) + beautiful sunny day + water

I shook that one off, and I'm sure I looked really cool while doing it, but didn't stick around for much longer after that. On to the other distinct experience.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008: Last challenge day. Nothing crazy or amazing about the surf. This thing happened about an hour after I got out of the water. Had a shower, ate some breakfast, went to my room and had my head tilted to the side as I was blow-drying my hair, when all of a sudden, I swear on my really expensive wetsuit, 1/2 cup of water poured out of my nose. And I'm really good at eyeballing measurements. It just kept pouring out, in a huge stream. And I was more fascinated than worried, and I wasn't surprised at all, really, as I'm sure sea water has made it to the far reaches of the back of my brain.

I left my room to explain this craziness to Chris, who stopped me after, "Oh my god the weirdest thing just happened to me - ", with, " what, water poured out of my nose? Yeah, that's happened to me before, lots; it happened to Val once when she was waiting tables." So apparently one of the coolest things that has happened to me post-surf is a regular occurrence in the surfing world. This is what they need to include in the handbook for beginner surfers.

So anyway, that was it. Slightly anti-climactic, but as I say again and again, I feel like I improve every time I get out in the water.

Promise to post again sometime soon.

Goodbye my Australian-via-Maui loves.....

xoxo

Jane

Challenge Days #9, #10, #11, #12, #13, #14, and #15: Whoops

2008-12-10T01:02:00.005-03:00

Have apparently been a bit preoccupied with things other than blogging. Surfing, the main one. Receiving overpriced VIP Madonna ticket and squealing every time I think about the concert, another (it wastes a lot of time; you'd be surprised. C'mon, she's a cultural icon, people). Getting silly drunk and staying in bed til 4 pm, yet another. Nonetheless, I finished the 15 straight days. Will update on the last seven days soon.

Lo siento,

xoxo

Jane

Challenge Days #6, #7, and #8: 'Meh'

2008-12-02T10:20:00.003-03:00

I've decided not to post everyday during this challenge, as a few days ago I came to the realization that posting about it for fifteen straight days would not only be painful for me to write about (it already was), it would most likely be much worse for you to read about. Shark and big wave phobia can only be discussed so much. Also, before the challenge began, I assumed that significant progress would be made everyday that I would be able to write about post-surf. Not so.

So here is a broad summary of the last few days, Challenge Days #6, #7, and #8.

Chris's tips. I've been testing them out for the last few days. Despite me trying to build them up for days in order for them to be revealed as fantastic breakthroughs that changed my surfing life, this regrettably is not the case. Still, I have found that they've helped. Why I ever thought that a few tips could automatically help me catch waves was where I went wrong in the first place.

Last week, Chris decided that I was worthy of some insider surfing information that an older, wiser surfer once passed on to him when he was learning. He informed me that these tips changed his life. Tip 1) Look behind you at the wave as it's approaching, and Tip 2) After you know where the wave is, look in the direction you want to go.

Sounds simple, right? Well apparently it wasn't for Chris way-back-when, and it definitely wasn't for me, so wipe that smug little grin off your face. Until last week, I was more of a 'hold-on-tight-grit-your-teeth-say-a-little-prayer-look-straight-forward-when-a-wave-is-approaching' type. Before the weekend, I was watching the waves approaching from afar, waiting for a good one to come, positioning my board forward, then holding on for dear life, in an 'oh jeez' squinty-eyed way, until I felt the wave pick me up from behind. Looking back, this doesn't make a heck of a lot of sense, although it makes the entire experience slightly less terrifying. As a result, this new method of 'looking at the wave as it's approaching' has produced more "holy shiiiIIIIITTTTT!!!"s in the last three days than it has in the last couple of months. Think about it: seeing a wave about to crash on top of you is a lot scarier than looking forward, knowing in your mind it is going to happen, but never actually seeing it.

Unfortunately, the last three days have either been windy, flat, or mushy, so I've not been able to try out these tips in ideal conditions. And I was not able to try out these tips to the best of my abilities today as I was not in tip-top shape for surfing. Today, get this, I had to get up at the ungodly hour of 6:45 to get my surf in. Yes, you heard me right, 6:45. That's a.m. for those of you unsure if a human being can actually rise at that ridiculous time. So as a result I basically laid on my board, half asleep, in the water.

Now I know what a lot of you are saying: "I get up earlier than 6:45 am everyday. Jane is a big, whiny loser." Had I been in Canada, reading someone else's blog full of complaints about getting up at 6:45 am, I probably would have scoffed at my computer screen and immediately called a friend to join in on the scoff-fest, just like you are thinking about doing right now. But hold the phone. Getting up at 6:45 am in Canada and getting up at 6:45 am in Chile are two completely different times. Scientific studies show that they're not actually the same time.

I would honestly equate getting up at 6:45 am in Chile to getting up at 3:45 am in Canada. It just doesn't happen, unless you work in a bakery, have another type of crazy early-starting job, or are just naturally weird.

The schedule people run on is just different here. Things I've observed in support of this 'different' schedule.

-Eating supper after 11 pm. Common.

-Keeping young children out incredibly late. For example babies, at concerts, at 2 am. I saw more than one at a concert a few weeks ago.

-I think I've mentioned the crazy party schedule before. The only time other than today that I've seen 6:45 am was when I was up until then partying, eventually having an 'oh-god-is-that-the-sun-coming-up' realization.

-Old people taking brisk walks in windbreakers at 1:30 am on Friday night, like it's 8:30 pm on a Sunday. Imagine curly white hair, shiny teal and pink flowery windbreakers, with pleated windbreaker pants. The most embarrassing part of this observation is that they were briskly walking past me as I was walking home after calling it a night.

Hopefully all of these examples adequately explain my poor showing out in the waves today.

And as I've been able to say for the last seven nights, tomorrow's another day to try it all out again. And I will, and I'll let you know how it all pans out.

Heading for bed ridiculously early tonight,

xoxo

Jane

Challenge Day #5: A Nice Little Saturday

2008-11-29T20:50:00.005-03:00

For those of you sitting at your computers, holding your breath and clicking 'refresh' every 15 seconds in anticipation of learning what Chris' surfing tips are (and I'm quite positive there are many of you), I apologize. You can stop clicking 'refresh', and please stop holding your breath. The guru tips will not be revealed today.

I went surfing today, Day #5 of the Challenge, but it was just a so-so day for me. As it is Saturday, Pichilemu is considerably more busy than a usual week day. A usual surf session on a week day means that I am either the only person out there surfing, or one of two. Maybe one of three, but that would be a crowd.

Today I decided to leave it until later in the day to go surfing, to take in the 'afternoon session'. I made this decision based on a couple of factors, one being the slightly late night I had last night accompanied by one, yes one, incredibly strong pisco sour; the other reason being that I've never gone surfing late in the day and I wanted to see what all the afternoon surfers see. The draw of the setting sun seemed a little bit romantic, even though I knew I was going out there on my own. But my romantic expectations were shattered when all I saw when I got out there was a lot of wind, and a lot of people.

I admit I have a bit of surf phobia when I realize there are going to be a lot of other people around me. I really have no clue how to navigate the water yet, or control my board for that matter, and my natural bad luck would guarantee that I would embarrassingly smash right into someone if I was within a 100 metre radius of another person. So when I see other people in the water, I avoid them like the plague and usually end up just half-assing it and riding the whitewater into shore. Which is exactly what I did today.

But, in my defense, the wind was really strong, even late in the day today (and still is at 9:15pm) so it was tough to even try to catch waves. When I would attempt to paddle into a wave, the wind would just blow tiny little freezing pellets of water right back into my face, which is a most uncomfortable sensation, especially when trying to keep your eyes open, which I've discovered is an essential part of surfing.

So I'm going to try to head out surfing early tomorrow morning. I'm slightly torn, as I realize that being a 'cool surfer chick' and having a 'nice early bedtime' aren't phrases that exactly go hand-in-hand, but for me they're going to have to if I want to accomplish anything in the water. So on this lovely Saturday night, I'm hitting the hay early in order to hit the waves early, too.

Hopefully tomorrow I can report on the successfulness of guru Chris' need-to-know tips. I'll keep you posted.

1/3 done.

xoxo

Jane

A (Fantastic, Yet) Tardy Challenge Day #3, and (Similar) Challenge Day #4

2008-11-28T21:24:00.004-03:00

It may be because the Christmas package from my parents arrived yesterday and I'm all hopped up on the sugar of my favourite Christmas dainties, but I feel excited, no, elated, to announce that the last four days of straight surfing seems to have been enough to incorporate surfing into my everyday life! Yes, I speak the truth. Today, I feel on top of the world, I imagine similar to how the surfing princess of Pichilemu would feel, if one existed. I also feel a little bit guilty that I feel this way now, as I admit I may not have given surfing enough of a chance at first. After three straight excellent days of surfing, I'm ashamed to realize I may have misrepresented surfing in my earlier posts as something that's not for me, or not fun.

Don't fret: this sudden elation in no way means I think I'm ready to stop the challenge after only four days. No, boy, in no way am I a 'good' surfer yet. In fact, I'm still not sure if I'm allowed to call myself one. But the truth is, I thought that surfing every day would end up being a huge burden. I was bordering on angry before I even began the challenge. But in actuality, it's been a joy. And I will continue for the next eleven days (at least), but today I'm proud to announce that surfing is more a 'part of my life' than it was a week ago, even. Thank you, Chris.

Take yesterday for an example of an excellent day. The ocean was flat. It could have maybe even been called glassy. But I paddled out anyway (obviously) as a part of the Challenge, with my trusty surfing buddy Andres. We went to the 'outside', and there were actually some decent, yet small, sets that rolled in. We were both on long boards, and we both caught some waves. And to top it all off (I apologize in advance to those of you residing in considerably cooler climates right now), the sun was shining without a cloud in the sky, the water was blue-green...the birds were chirping, children were running and laughing on the beach...

And while I may go a bit overboard in my descriptions, it was an absolutely perfect day.

As was this morning. Andres and I went out surfing again, and it was another beautiful day. There were waves to be caught and fun to be had.

After my session today, I got a bit of surfing advice from Chris that I am keen to try out tomorrow. But I'll keep these special tips under wraps until I've actually proven them to be useful. I'm also trying to carefully ration out blog material as almost fifteen days straight may be as unbearable for me as the writer as it has been for you as the reader (of this painful excuse for a blog post). Anyway, I'll let you know how these tips pan out, hopefully after tomorrow's session. (Yeaa! Material!!!)

And apparently I have another lesson with my adorable surf teacher Luis at some point this weekend. If it's tomorrow, I'm hoping he'll let me break free of the tiny baby waves of the beach so I can try out these new tips, but a lot of things seem to get lost in the Spanglish-y blabber I attempt to communicate with him in. I may well have at some point told him that I'm terrified of La Puntilla and never want to go there.

So I'm already planning my session for tomorrow. On Challenge Day #1 I would have had to have been hung up by my toenails over a pool of very angry and hungry sharks to have said anything remotely similar to that. I'm just hoping that this surfing euphoria isn't temporary, and lasts for at least the next eleven days.

Because as I said, it may be the sugar in the Christmas dainties talking, but I don't think it can possibly be, as I haven't inhaled one in at least fifteen minutes.

Thanks Mom and Dad. You've made it just like Christmas in Neepawa!

xoxo

Jane

Challenge Day #2: I'm Already Winning Awards

2008-11-26T22:24:00.003-03:00

I am pleased to announce that today's surfing Challenge Day (yes, the words deserve capital letters) was the best of the two days thus far; in fact, today was much better than yesterday.

After Challenge Day #1, I was honestly in a foul mood for a good part of the day, thinking about how much I suck at surfing, and how I am, potentially, a hopeless case. My mind then somehow wandered (it might have been in a dream during my nap on the bus to Santa Cruz) to this image involving Felipe, Jose, and Romina, a few of the 8- and 9-year-old kids I teach who love surfing. They were out surfing at the same time as me, laughing at me as they passed me by on their boards. In my imagination/dream, they looked super cool and were catching waves, while I looked like a huge loser, not catching waves. So either I have a way too active imagination, or surfing acts like a mood-altering, weirdo-thought-producing drug, because anything close to this image has never happened. Still, it put me in a foul mood. Thank goodness I never actually attended the Saturday morning surf class with those kids. Punches may have been thrown between me and Romina if I had actually shown up.

So anyway, I've decided to start awarding baby steps in my surfing progress. No, I have not won any awards decided by other people. I'm self-awarding. I've decided that I need to start to award my progress and not get down on myself about my sucky surfing days. I'm sure most of this idea has come from numerous Oprah shows blurred into one, but what the heck, I was a proud little surfer after my baby step of progress today.

Drumroll, please. The award I self-awarded myself with today is for 'best potential paddle-in on a green wave'. Hmm, you wonder. What does this even mean?

Right. Two months ago this would have made zero sense to me, as well.

I've found that actually knowing when to start paddling in order to 'catch' a wave may be the most difficult part of actually 'catching' it. It may be my natural bad luck, but it seems that in my experience, the wave either crashes directly on top of me, or crashes way too far behind me, causing me to only ride the white water and not the 'green' part of the wave, which is apparently what you're supposed to do. Ideally.

So my baby step of good progress for the day is that I actually now feel like I am getting the hang of paddling in at the right time. I actually think that I could have caught a nice, decent sized wave today if I hadn't chickened-out and rode it out on my tummy.

Lessons of the day? Be more positive, and don't chicken-out.

Will update after Challenge Day #3.

Goodnight!

xoxo

Jane

Challenge Day #1: If All Else Fails, I'll Have Strong Arms

2008-11-25T21:59:00.002-03:00

And if I don't stop thinking about sharks in the water, I'll have a heart attack well before my time.

This post is going to be record-breaking for shortness (for me, anyway) as I'm going to re-cap the last 24 hours in point form.

1. Returned from Santiago late yesterday afternoon.

2. Went to bed early last night in preparation for first day of challenge.

3. Woke up early this morning to surf.

4. Checked the waves from the park across the street and quickly discovered they were uneven, choppy, and basically not conducive to surfing.

5. Realized that nature won't cooperate just because Jane Harley has a 15 day surf challenge starting.

6. Went out surfing despite not awesome-looking waves and got swished around a bit until I felt satisfied I'd had a 'surf'.

7. Took a ridiculous amount of time to paddle in, due to the uneven, choppy, yuckiness.

8. While paddling, let my mind wander to potential shark attacks.

9. Brainstormed as to how I would fend off a shark.

10. Decided the best way would be to kick it in the head with the leg that hadn't been bitten off, using elementary school karate lesson-type kicks.

11. Paddled much harder and faster until I got an actual workout.

12. Felt extremely happy to be alive when I finally reached the shore.

There it is, folks. Challenge Day #1. At this rate serious phobias, not habits, will be formed.

I'll update you soon on Challenge Day #2.

Wish me luck. Please.

xoxo

Jane

No ‘Finding Nemo’ Sharks Here, a Tan, Some Aussies, and an Interesting Challenge

2008-11-18T22:29:00.006-03:00

So once again I've neglected regular blog posting. There's a perfectly good reason, being that not a heck of a lot of progress has been made in my surfing world. Don't get me wrong, I've gone out a few time and feel like each session has been successful in it's own, very special, way (I think I've said that too many times now, but whatever). But I swear that there honestly hasn't been much to write home about, save for a few things (but not 'Hawaii Five-O'-type wave-catching, Bruno. I hope you don't cue the theme song in your mind when you read about me 'surfing', as I'm far from that cool). Still, as a warning, there are no coffee and strawberry puke stories coming up, and definitely no thumbs-up jumping penguins. So stop getting your hopes up and calm down a little bit before you continue.

Semi-Exciting Progress #1: Went surfing with my buddy Andres for the first time. If you have read any of my previous blog post comments, Andres has commented a few times on them in Spanish. Not only has Andres become a fantastic impromptu Spanish teacher, has has also now become a fantastic impromptu surfing teacher. We decided in a very spur-of-the-moment decision to head out surfing together mid-last week. This time out was the first time I think I can actually say that I 'caught' a wave, at least one that wasn't in the tiny little itty-bitty baby waves by the shore. We went out to the point, but stayed to the 'inside'. And because I've learned a bit about 'sets' and what happens between them in the last few weeks, Andres was able to instruct me when to 'paddle out' incredibly effectively so I could catch some really fun waves 'inside'. Thanks, Andres!

Semi-Exciting Progress #2: Got a bleeding nose in the water, and did not get attacked by sharks. Went out with Val on Saturday morning and as I was going for a wave I whacked myself in the face. After getting tumbled about as per usual, I came up and put my hand to my face as I vaguely remembered semi-punching myself. Yikes! Bleeding nose. Strangely enough, my first thought raced to 'Finding Nemo' (no, not my actual health or safety), where Marlin and Dory meet Bruce, a shark who has been completely misrepresented, at least in his own mind, as a mean and violent character. "Fish are friends, not food." Remember? Anyway, Marlin, Dory, and Bruce proceed to hang out and appear to have a fantastic (albeit somewhat nervous) time, until Dory gets a nosebleed herself, causing Bruce to go into crazy, scary, shark mode. So remembering this part of the movie caused me to think that a group of sharks would be circling within seconds. This, fortunately, did not happen, but an incredibly kind young gentleman, Javier, floated around on his board next to me until it stopped. Obviously he'd never seen 'Finding Nemo'.

Semi-Exciting Progress #3: I have a surfer's tan. Yup, as now only my hands and face are tanned, and everything else is deathly white, I feel like I belong to an exclusive club of wetsuit wearers. Just thought I'd mention that. Not quite sure if I'm allowed to call myself a surfer yet, though. Input on this would be greatly welcomed.

Semi-Exciting Progress #4: Got dared into a surfing challenge. Yes, not something I am going to deal with lightly. I think Chris might have been aware of this aspect of my personality before he challenged me, as yesterday he made an out-of-nowhere comment along the lines of, "you just need to surf everyday for like, fifteen days or something." "Huh?" was my most probable reply, as I recall it to be a quick change of topic. "You just need to get out there and make it a habit. Doesn't it take something like nineteen days to build a habit?" "I thought it was sixty," I replied, recalling a crazy yoga challenge my sister did not long ago. And so I sensed the challenge right there, and I am up for it. Or down for it. Whatever. So as I am spending the weekend in Santiago at a super cool event until late on Monday, I will start this fifteen-day surf challenge next Tuesday to try to create a new habit, surfing, in my life. And as usual, I will keep you posted on how it goes.

And I feel like I can't end this blog post without a quick shout-out to Dan and Alex, some super fun and highly entertaining Aussies I hung out with for the last almost-week. Check out this little vid to get a taste of the ridiculous sense of humour I was privileged enough to experience. They left town this morning, headed for Peru, with surfboard bag on shoulder, and banana bread in hand. They'll eventually make it to Whistler in a few weeks to try a little bit of snowboarding before heading home via Japan.

So to everyone who hasn't seen this video, enjoy; and Dan and Alex, enjoy your time in Canada and keep me posted on your travels!

I sign off mentally preparing for the challenge that will start in T-6 days.

xoxo

Jane

Happy Two Month Anniversary, Pichilemu!

2008-11-17T15:51:00.006-03:00

Has it really been two months already?

On this momentous anniversary of my arrival in Pichilemu, I thought I'd treat you with some pictures of where I live and work. Enjoy!

took a wander down the beach...

where I live and work...

from the inside looking out...

me, Chris, and a fantastic adult English class...

where the blogging magic happens.

Lots of surfing progress. Kind of. I'll post again soon.

xoxo

Jane

Back To:

2008-11-10T20:19:00.004-03:00

SQUARE ONE!

Duh duh da DUH da, DUH da da: SQUARE ONE! Duh duh da DUH da, DUH da da: SQUARE ONE! No, I did not go back in time today and watch my favourite math-based children's television program from the 1980s. I went back to square one of surfing.

It was through a quick and blurry Spanish conversation that I was a part of last night (that I thought I understood) that I got set up with a surfing lesson for this morning at 11:30. Either I did not understand as much as I thought I did, or appointments are set up a lot more quickly around here than I am used to, because the conversation lasted for about 30 seconds, and by the end of it, the lesson I had this morning was booked.

Nachi, the owner of a local surf school, was at my house last night with my roomie, Trini, and a surfing teacher friend of his, Luis, when I returned home from supper at my new friend John's house (yikes, four new people in a sentence, sorry. You may have to read that a few times). As usual, Nachi asked me how surfing has been going so far. I said it's been going well, as in my mind, it has been going well. I have not had any crazy or major dilemmas like the ones I had at the beginning of my surfing adventure. I also feel like I've been a lot more steady on my board, and I have more confidence, to boot.

"Have you stood up yet?" is what he must have asked me next. When I replied with my best tilted-head, semi-closed-eye, "What?" look, he placed one of his hands palm-up in front of himself, and placed the other hand on top of it like a little person: his first and second fingers down like legs, the rest of his fingers and hand the little person's body. Then, he shrugged his shoulders in a, "Have you done this yet?" kind of way.

"Oh...no." I sheepishly replied.

Then occurred the blurry conversation between Nachi and Luis that I did not understand. I'm sure it consisted of something like this: "OK, this pathetic Canadian girl has been here since September and hasn't even stood up on her board yet. Oh, really? Wow. Yeah. No kidding. We need to do some sort of a surf intervention, and fast."

A few seconds later, after figuring out that my morning English class was done at 11, it was decided that I would have a surfing lesson at 11:30 today. It wasn't so much of a question for me as a decision made for me. Luis is a surfing teacher, therefore, you have class with him tomorrow at 11:30.

Fortunately, and for those of you who know me best, this is the kind of decision making I enjoy.

So after my morning English class with Jose, a tanned, lanky 8-year-old who I learned today has next to no aiming accuracy when peeing (as there was pee ALL over my bathroom floor and toilet seat after class), I squeezed, grunted, and contorted my body into my wetsuit, still semi-damp from Friday, and wandered down to the surf school.

A few minutes after arriving, Luis and I were ready to get out there. In my mind, 'out there' was the point, where there are bigger waves that I've been 'surfing' for probably a month already. Luis had other ideas in mind, such as lying down on the sand, drawing imaginary surfboards around us, and practicing standing up for about 20 minutes. We did this for so long that at one point, an incredibly entertaining stray puppy lumbered over to us, tried to play with us, and when we didn't reciprocate, started digging up our imaginary surfboards so we had no clue where the outline of them actually was.

So this kind of stuff is all good, I thought to myself as I drew and redrew an imaginary surfboard on the sand in front of me, but maybe for total beginner surfers. Of course I'll just humour him, though. Because I'm beyond this. I surf out at the point. I get to the 'outside'. I know what the 'outside' is.

When we finally got in the water, I realized quite quickly that maybe this actually is the place that I should be. A little tiny baby wave would come along, Luis would give me a push, and I'd jolt forward, get in a semi-standing position, and either fall head over heels off the board, fall backwards off the board, or not even get my right foot up in front of me, and coast on into shore, looking like a big, lazy loser.

I'm sure that Luis was thinking, "Wow, she is the absolute worst surfer I have ever seen in my life. And she's been here for HOW long?" but I did have a lot of fun, and stood up on a few waves.

So I guess I've caught my first wave, but right now I don't feel very good, or cool about it. I'm almost embarrassed to announce it. They were teeny, tiny little baby waves, for teeny, tiny little babies. I know what bigger waves look and feel like. I should be riding those. Like, um, hello?!? I've gotten worked.

But I'll be back out there soon, practicing what I learned today. Because apparently, I need a lot of it. Back to Square One, and hopefully back to the point, sooner rather than later.

And one last thing: this post has been brought to you by Luis, Pichilemu, the ocean, a funny dog, a big surfboard, and readers like you.

See you soon.

xoxo

Jane

Marine Life Supports Me, Even When I 'Get Worked'

2008-11-05T17:07:00.000-03:00

I went out surfing this afternoon with Val, and was once again confused by my possible ambi-ness. While I feel like I'm getting closer to catching that elusive wave every day, the confusion that ensues when I try to stand up is a bit frustrating. I should be goofy; when I close my eyes and think about it, my right foot goes forward. Still, seeing as I have a bit of time to figure it out, I may try my leash on the other foot the next time I go out and see if anything positive occurs. I'll let you know.

Surfing today was especially cool because of the little friends I made out in the water. Now don't get me wrong, I'm aware of the fact that I am in the Pacific Ocean, but up until about the third or fourth time I went out surfing, I kiiiiinda forgot that there are other things that actually live in it. It was probably around late September when I made this realization as I was floating around on my board, quite far from shore. I was suddenly gripped with fear because of the fact that there might be sharks circling me, at that very moment.

This obviously wasn't happening, and I made it in that day quite unscathed, but since then, I've been more aware of the fact that there are interesting little critters out there who are a lot faster and a lot more comfortable in the water than I am.

Kristen Harley, if you are reading this right now, it's time for you to stop. My sister Kristen, who doesn't like to acknowledge the fact, let alone think about the fact, that fish live in lakes and oceans, will be visiting me in Pichilemu in February. Ideally, she will come out surfing with me, but I'm quite positive she won't if she keeps reading. So stop now.

I think it was maybe two weeks ago when I saw my first large ocean animal. I was out with Val when she said something that I couldn't hear. I looked over toward her, saw a big brown lump, and was shocked to think that there were rocks that stuck out of the water as far out as we were. "Val," I yelled, "is that a rock over there?"

"No," she yelled back, "I said, 'there's a sea lion!"

Shit. I mean, if I ever would have pooped my wetsuit, it wouldn't have been when I hit the bottom and ate sand. It would have been at that exact moment, because the animal looked massive. I tried to compose myself and move on, but since then, I've started to notice little dudes swimming around quite frequently.

Today, the animals I saw made themselves a lot more noticeable. Val and I were paddling down the channel when on the other side of her I saw a rounded, grey-brown fin, and a greyish, smooth back. "Ahhh!" is all I could manage to get out. "A fin!"

"Hopefully not a big one....?" Val semi-nervously asked.

It was not that big, and it was definitely dolphin-ish. I hope.

Minutes later, I tried to catch a wave and totally 'got worked'. I would like to think that the dolphin sensed my nervousness pre-wave, and was showing herself to wish me luck before she knew what was about to happen (I think dolphins can sense things like that). Shortly after the first 'working' I received, I was lucky enough to get another one, immediately after. Seconds later, as I was catching my breath while floating on smoother water, a penguin, seriously no more than 2 metres away, jumped through the air in a little arc. I would like to think that if it had thumbs, it would have given me a thumbs-up. I think it winked at me.

Now this brings me to the point where I will introduce a new, soon-to-be regular feature of my blog. "Chris and Val's surf term of the week" will introduce a new surfing term not only to me, but also to all of you out there who have about as much of a clue about surfing as I do. And who doesn't like learning new words and phrases? You can slip them into conversations with friends who DO know something about surfing, and look really cool. So "getting worked" will be the first term ever, and from the definition I was given earlier in the week it is basically what happened to me during my first blog post.

Getting Worked: wiping out and getting thrown about while being held under the wave. May result in your life flashing before your eyes. May result in random mystery bruises from being hit by your board, other flailing body parts, etc. May involve the inhalation of salty water and foam.

There you have it. Surf term #1. And you can count on learning much, much more in the coming weeks, courtesy of surfing gurus 1 and 2.

Stay posted!

xoxo

Jane

Could I Be An Ambi-Surfer (Without Ever Really Surfing At All)?

2008-11-04T22:43:00.000-03:00

If there was to be a surfing movie of my life, my day started just before the super-inspiring musical montage. A frustrated, dejected 'Avoider' surfer (someone playing me, obviously) is lying in bed, contemplating her life as a surfer. She lets out a few very loud sighs and rolls over groggily to look at the clock, prepared to press snooze just ONE more time. The exact SECOND before she is about to slam her hand down on the snooze button (her hand is actually hovering over it in the air), surf guru #2 a.k.a. Chris, raps his knuckles on the bedroom window as he walks by: "Get up!" he yells as his voice trails off, heading toward a backyard full of wetsuits and surfboards. "We're going surfing!" The dejected surfer character jumps out of bed and actually leaves her alarm blaring to the chagrin of her annoyed roommate. "HEY!" the roommate yells from the next room. "Turn that $#%^ thing off!"

That's where the music begins. It starts out quietly at first, because the two characters are still talking. My character is standing lazily in the doorway to the backyard, rubbing her eyes, as Chris' character prods my character in the stomach with the surf booties in his hand.

"Wake up!" his character says to mine. "I'm up, I'm up," my character hoarsely replies. "How long will it take you to get your wetsuit on?" the Chris character asks, and considering that my character has perked up noticeably during the short conversation (things happen more quickly in movies), she responds with a happy and ready-to-surf, "5 minutes! Tops!" as she bounds of to her bedroom to don said wetsuit.

At this point, the music gets louder. At first I was thinking it would be something like the music that plays in "Footloose" when Kevin Bacon is getting his gymnastics on in that old abandoned building ("Holding Out For a Hero", I think. Correct me if I'm wrong), but on second thought, that type of montage is not the type of montage my movie would be going for. That type of montage would be way too serious and focused. More fitting for my movie may actually be something like Wham!'s "Wake Me Up Before You Go Go", mimicking a montage similar to the hilariously fun-loving one Derek, Rufus, Meekus and Brint have in "Zoolander" (minus the gas station blowing up and killing 3 of the 4 really, really ridiculously good looking male models).

So, in our wetsuits, our characters bounce down to the beach, surfboards under their arms, engaging in witty (and obviously silent, as the music is playing) banter as they paddle out the channel, then continue to animatedly catch waves and fall off their boards (hilariously) over and over again, sharing in side-splitting high-fives, private handshakes, and knowing glances between each wave.

Unfortunately, most of this did not happen, except the first part. And it actually did, although my version may be a bit exaggerated.

Unfortunately once again, I didn't actually catch any waves, but I was really, really, really close three times. My issue now is that I think I may be an ambi-surfer. I was informed by surfing guru #2 that this is a made up term, but as I have a surf blog, I feel entitled to create new surf terms at my leisure.

The first wave that I almost caught was sweet. I was in a great position, started paddling, felt the back half of me being lifted up, so I then planted my hands in front of me and brought my legs in under me. Unfortunately for me I then froze in that position. The feeling of not being completely stable on the board caused me to ride the wave to the end on one knee with my hands on the board, probably looking incredibly uncool to anyone who may have been watching. As far as they knew, though, I was about to do a headstand and beat their coolest trick. So there.

That wave carried me in super far, so I paddled into the beach and jogged back to the point to go out one more time. This is where my major confusion began. I paddled out again, and quickly saw a ride-able wave coming. I started paddling, felt the wave pick me up from behind, planted my hands, and tried to get into a standing position. But this time, my left leg, which I was trying to put forward, felt stuck. Oh dear, I finally realized after a few unsuccessful standing attempts, I am trying to put my wrong foot forward, literally. I am supposed to surf with my right foot forward, not my left. I'm goofy. Or so I thought.

So I almost caught one more wave in, but this time felt completely confused about my stand-uality. Or wave-uality. Or surf-uality. Whatever you want to call it, I had no clue how to stand. Also, on that wave, I noticed that my leash was unattached, so instead of actually trying to stand up, I spent the time trying to fish for the leash off the back end of he board so I didn't have a long swim to catch up with a runaway.

So I now have no clue which foot to try to put forward, but am going out again tomorrow morning with Val to try to figure things out. That is why I must stop now, and go to bed.

Plus, I think there's a much more pressing and important question in my life right now, that being who would play me in the movie of my surfing life?

Hasta pronto,

xoxo

Jane

I'm an 'Avoider', not a 'Confronter'

2008-11-02T21:10:00.000-03:00

At least when it comes to surfing, that is. "Avoider" and "Confronter" are two terms that popped into my mind while out in the water on Saturday morning. You may have noticed that I've conveniently avoided writing about the actual topic of my blog, surfing, for an entire week. That is because I haven't been doing it. And this is how I came to the conclusion that I'm an 'Avoider'. I'm not entirely sure if this is a term that is commonly used in the surfing world, or any world for that matter, but I feel it quite accurately sums up what I've been doing for the past week.

I'm almost ashamed to say it, as I feel like I'm a "Confronter" in all other aspects of my life. It seems strange to admit that I'm avoiding anything, as I pride myself on being the type of person who tackles problems, head-on.

So what have I been doing all week? Avoiding surfing. How? "Well...I have class in a few hours and I need to plan...I'm not feeling very well...maybe I'll go for a run instead...I think the waves are probably too big for me today..."

I recognized this was happening, but almost felt trapped, like I couldn't do anything about it. Honestly, I was still slightly shaken up from the previous week's experience, but at the same time, I really wanted to get out there. I have fun when I'm out there. It's wicked. But I kept putting it off.

So on Friday I had a little conversation with myself. "Jane," I said to myself, "you are surfing tomorrow morning, big waves or small waves, sun or fog." So I put everything in motion to actually get out there. Decided to stay in on Friday night. Went to bed at a reasonable hour. Set the alarm for 8 o'clock. And as soon as the alarm went off on Saturday morning, I began to avoid.

"Oooh," I thought to myself, "I don't know if I've had enough sleep. I don't want to be tired out in the water," and abruptly re-set the alarm for an hour later. When the alarm re-went off at 9, I miraculously got out of bed. I threw on some real pants over top of my pajama pants, and reluctantly crossed the street to check out the waves from the park. Despite being a bit foggy, the waves looked good to my untrained eye, but I needed a second opinion. Or a reason to get out of it. "Val," I asked as I spoke to 1 of my 2 surfing gurus, "I want to go surfing, but there's no one out there. What do you think I should do?" Val assured me that everything seemed fine, it was early, and that I should give it a shot. But should call her when I get back in (my constant chatter for the last week about my near death experience may have rubbed off on those around me and caused some secondary paranoia).

So I went to the back of the house, grabbed my wetsuit, and started to slip it on. And the minute, and I mean MINUTE my right foot popped through the foot hole, I started to shake. It was the PTSD of the previous week coming back fast and furious. A few deep breaths calmed me down, but I had the jitters all the way down the stairs and out to the point.

When I got in the water I started to feel silly about all the avoiding I'd been doing that week. What had I been thinking? I had nothing to be worried about out here. Until the first big wave came along, which I conveniently avoided.

I noticed I that I was doing this quickly enough to shake some sense into myself and have a few good kicks at the can while I was out there. And while I guess that "recognizing that I have a problem" is the first step in stopping my problem of being a surf-avoider, I can't understand why I'm doing it in the first place. I want to be out there with all the cool kids, catching waves like they do. I really like it, and I want to get GOOD!

So today I chose an alternate method of learning to surf, only because last night I chose to drink way too much beer and wine, chose to stay out dancing until 4:30, and, ultimately, chose to feel like absolute crap today. I watched surf videos. Step Into Liquid and Thicker Than Water would make any born and bred Canadian prairie girl feel like she is going to be the next big thing in surfing. As I come to terms with the fact that this may never happen, and am still searching for that first big 'catch', watching surfing may just be the next best thing to being out there.

I sign off confident that I am going to be a "Confronter" this week. I'll let you know how that turns out.

xoxo

Jane

P.S. check out the trailers for the videos I watched today (links above). Unreal.

Happy Halloween to my Little Devils

2008-10-31T12:04:00.000-03:00

I teach an incredibly varied group of students, both children and adults, and get a kick out of all of them for various reasons. On Tuesdays and Fridays I make a 2 hours bus trek to Santa Cruz, to teach ten 7- and 8-year-old bowel movement obsessed kids that I mentioned a few days ago. This needs no explanation other than the fact that they either poop, look at each others' poop, smell each others' poop, or talk about poop for a good portion of the class. These little characters cannot stay in their seats for more than about 15 seconds, unless I've bribed them with stickers, or, more effectively, gritted my teeth so my jaw bones stick out, while simultaneously bugging out my eyes. (Thank you, Dad, for arming me with this age-old child control method. It was incredibly effective with me as a child, and still is to this day with children worldwide).

They maintain a constant high-pitched chorus of "Mees! Mees! Mees Jane! Mees! Mees! (Miss Jane) for the entire ninety minutes. Occasionally, they are completely out of control, but I attribute this to the fact that it's because they're having fun, and aren't in 'real' school. (Yikes, I'm starting to sounds like Regina George's mom from Mean Girls: "I'm not like a regular mom. I'm a cool mom").

They're definitely learning, though, in some way or other, as upon my arrival at the office building where we have class, I'm bombarded by ten kissy-lipped children, all attempting to recite the vocabulary words to me that we'd learned in the previous lesson at the same time.

Their craziness would be apparent to anyone watching the class for more than three minutes. One time, for example, I turned my back to the class for about thirty seconds to help one student; when I turned back around, the rest of the kids had silently (for the first time ever) gathered on the floor in the middle of the room, four girls on top of one boy, appearing to smother, but actually tickling him. When I tried to pry the original four girls off him, I had two other girls sit on each of my feet, and wrap their arms around my legs. Then the rest started to tickle me. This was the exact moment that a parent conveniently decided to enter the classroom to see how everything was going. Needless to say, my bosses got a call, the kids got a stern talking to, and the first ten minutes of the next class were spent practicing sitting in chairs and raising hands.

Unfortunately for me, I won't be spending this spooky holiday with my Chilean devil children, as Halloween in Chile is now a new religious holiday. Yes, your guess is as good as mine, because if you're anything like me you thought up until a few minutes ago that Halloween was strictly for wearing costumes and eating an absurd amount of chocolate with no regrets. Still, I'm not asking any questions, and am enjoying my second long weekend in one month.

My only hope for my kids, beyond staying out of 7- and 8-year-old trouble this Halloween, is that they finish every piece of candy they gather before next Tuesday afternoon.

So Teresita, Montserrat, Nico, Catalina, Sofi, Pia, Benjamin, Katerina, Sofia, and Barbara: have a fun day, and no candy in class next week. BOO!

xoxo

Jane

You Can Take the Girl Out of Canada, But You Can’t Take (Tonsil) Hockey Away from the Girl

2008-10-28T21:23:00.000-03:00

Sorry for the lame title. I honestly couldn't think of anything better.

I am going to try to be as loyal a blogger as possible in terms of developments in my surfing life, but I don't have any surfing stories from today, so I felt it was necessary to come up with something to fill the void. Not that I need to write something everyday, or make excuses to you, or the cyber world, but I wasn't in the water today as the surf was apparently not great in the morning. In the afternoon, I was in Santa Cruz, a neighbouring city, teaching an insane, bowel movement-obsessed group of ten 7- and 8-year olds.

So how about I tell you a bit about my community today?

Pichilemu is a quiet, sandy, lazy beach community of about 12 000 on the coast of Chile, about 3 hours west of Santiago. While it is lacking in a few things, such as canned beans, red onions, brown sugar, and chocolate chips (important staples in the life of those who enjoy cooking) it more than makes up for it in its charisma and spunkiness, channeled through the hilarious and satisfyingly ordinary, yet original, people I've met so far.

One thing I find fantastic about this community (maybe country, as I've witnessed it in Santa Cruz, too) is the teenagers' absolute love of hard-core, completely public, makeout sessions. Everywhere you turn, whether you are walking down a street in the centre of town, strolling through a residential area, waiting at a bus stop, eating in a restaurant, or heading down one of the many sets of staircases that lead to the beach, you are bound to come across a young couple, heads wrenching back and forth, in position so as to get their tongues as far down each other's throats as completely possible.

Their whole being is completely involved in this display of affection, hands massaging each other's shoulders and backs in a circular motion, kissing each other like it is the very last thing they are going to do on Earth. Their complete disregard for everything and anything around them is somewhat refreshing, when not completely disconcerting.

What I possibly find the most amazing is that these people appear to be plucked straight from a Hollywood movie set: you look at them, and you know they are teens, as they're wearing high school uniforms: plaid skirts and high socks, black patent leather shoes, button-up sweaters, and cute little backpacks, yet they look to be in their mid- to late 20s. I automatically think of those old movies from the late '90s or early '00s with Freddie Prinze Jr, Jennifer Love Hewitt, Sarah Michelle Gellar, Rachel Leigh Cook, or some other three-named 'teen' star. They look and act WAY too mature for how old they are actually supposed to be. Ladies, totally developed; guys, partial five o'clock shadows, if not full beards (or mustaches and fashionable mullets, in Chile's case. I'm not going to get into that today).

Amazingly, you can just sit there and watch these kids licking each other's tonsils dry. Like they are proud of their abilities or something. No teen-y, stop-looking-at-me-because-I'm-embarrassed glares. Call me a perv, but they're not shy about it, so why should I be? is the conclusion I came to the other day as I waited for the bus, sandwiched between two lip-smacking, face-caressing pairs. I honestly had to blink really hard the first few times I witnessed these displays. Coming from a culture which is considerably less accepting of overt public displays of affection, I've found it difficult to not either do a double take, or stand there with my jaw dangerously close to the ground when witnessing one of these demonstrations.

Don't get me wrong, there is no shortage of teens who look like teens, all awkward with their zits, crustaches, and creaky voices, but there seems to be an abundance of these other, hard-core, saucy, sex-eye giving, mutant makeout teens.

I don't have any clever explanation; this spectacle I observe on a daily basis is as much a wonder to me as it may be to you. In fact if you know how and why this occurs, please let me know immediately.

As I have no photos of this observable fact, you'll have to take my word for it, for the time being. OR come visit me in Pichilemu. We can watch the kids make out, then I'll take you out to Puntilla and give you a surf lesson.

Until we meet again!

xoxo

Jane

Coffee and Strawberries

2008-10-27T16:08:00.000-03:00

In thinking back on my surf session from Saturday afternoon, I've realized that it's amazing how many thoughts can race through one's mind in mere seconds.

I started out the day very 'typically', if I can call it that after having spent only six Saturdays here in Pichilemu thus far. I rolled out of bed, grabbed my massive canvas shopping bag, jumped on 'the green machine' (or 'maquina verde'; whatever you want to call it, it's the house bicycle) and headed downtown to the market to pick up my fruit and veg for the week. While the market is fantastic for super cheap produce, and going there is a fun and entertaining experience in itself, I have a serious ulterior motive in getting there as early as I can muster every single Saturday. A few weeks ago I realized that everyone in this town (women, anyway) wear UGGs. And they're not the fuzzy-shoe-with-a-name-similar-to-UGGs-boots, they are real, honest to goodness UGGs, the kind I always mocked, but secretly loved, in Canada as they cost $300 and I was always too cheap/poor to even consider buying them.

So I asked my boss/friend Val how it is possibly that all women in this town seem to be sporting what looks like a new pair of UGGs every time I see them. "The market," she replied. The mind-blowing phenomenon that seems to have occurred here is that some clueless shoe salesperson who receives (very slightly) defective shoes ands sells them at markets in this area receives UGGs in his shipment, brings them to Pichilemu, and sells them for, get this, $5000 pesos. For all you Canadians out there, $5000 Chilean pesos is under $10 CAD. And if you're not Canadian, you're likely some poor soul outside of my immediate family who has stumbled upon this blog somehow, and for some reason has read to this point, this is super SUPER cheap. Like Superstore flipflops cheap. So once I heard this, I made it my life's mission to get up early every Saturday to find me some UGGs. Val revealed this UGG phenomenon to me on a Friday, and 'poof!' on Saturday morning, I had a brand new pair of tall, dark brown, size six UGGs on my feet keeping the Chile-chillyness out. Since that dreamy Saturday, I have not been so lucky. I unfortunately mentioned the UGG phenomenon to my younger sister, Kristen, who is living in Korea right now, and by the time I checked my e-mail a few hours after our conversation, I had a detailed order form from her, listing her favourite styles and colours, and was armed with the knowledge that she'd "like more than one pair, if possible."

The image of me at the market that I envisioned running through Kristen's mind was actually one of me at some high class shoe store, trying on oodles of different styles and colours of UGGs. "I'd like that short, dark, brown pair in a 6, please," is what I was saying in Kristen's mind to the tidy, fancy shoe person. In actuality, the shoe section of the market consists of the type of long, wooden, fold-down tables that got covered in white paper at churches for the fall suppers of my youth, piled high with crappy and hilarious discount and defective shoes.

As it's slowly but surely turning into summer here in Pichilemu, the UGG supply has been dwindling; the following Saturday I saw a lonely, light brown, short yet solitary size 10 UGG on the shoe person's table, and have not had a whiff of one since. I'm afraid they may all be gone 'til next year, and am now completely out of ideas for Christmas presents to send home to my sisters.

But back to Saturday. My day started out typically, and continued that way. In the early afternoon Chris (other boss/friend/spouse of Val) insisted that he, Val and I get out in the water for a surf. I haven't done a ton of surfing since I've been here, or not as much as I would have liked, as within a week of arriving I had contracted some sort of crazy Chilean virus, or 'fonda flu' as it's been lovingly referred to by Chris, Val, and others. ('Fonda': an insane Dieciocho [the Independence WEEK party] hallmark of partying under a massive tent until approximately 6 or 7 in the morning for 4-5 days straight, where you can buy a bottle of wine at the booze counter, Manitoba social-style. For example, instead of going up to the bar and saying "I'd like a vodka-sev" you'd be saying "I'd like that bottle of wine right there," for approximately the same price as one Manitoba social drink). The virus, not the partying (obviously), seriously knocked me out for a few weeks and I was in what I recall to be a zombie-like state of teaching, coughing, and sleeping.

So I've only recently got out in the water to do some regular surfing. AND I just bought my own wetsuit on Friday morning, so as of 10 am on Friday I had the gear and was ready to get out there. I was stoked.

Chris headed out ahead of me and Val, and was in the water once Val and I got to la puntilla, but once Val and I got out there and paddled down the channel, we got separated from each other pretty quickly. A few factors may have caused this, but the one main reason will suffice. She's really good, I'm not.

I'm still a bit hesitant out there, given the fact that I've already inhaled enough salty foam to salt my food for a lifetime, but I feel that getting back on the horse (or board) and trying again is the only thing that will make me actually able to successfully 'catch' a wave, not just experience the fluke of my body being thrown by the wave into the standing position on top of my board. This reality that surfing is super hard is incredibly frustrating for people like me, who like to be good at something as soon as they attempt it, and get frustrated when they don't.

So Val and I got separated, and I have only hazy fear-induced memories past that. I think I may have been paddling out trying to recognize who she was in a sea of increasingly similar looking black specks, when this massive (for Jane-who-grew-up-nowhere-near-the-ocean-Harley) wave was upon me.

I've come to the realization that there are a few options to consider when a large wave is upon you. One: turn around, lie on your board, and try to catch the wave. Two: if you're not ready for option one, take a big breath, duck the nose of your board under the water, and go under the wave; and three: similar to two; take a big breath, flip upside down under your board, and hold on for dear life. I, upon seeing this huge wave crashing on top of me, chose another option. Stare at the wave, and let it crash on top of you. This was not the smartest option as what followed could have been one of my scariest life moments.

I vaguely remember hitting the bottom of the ocean, not knowing which direction was up or which direction was down; I was being hurled and tossed around by the wave head over heels, and had at that point already breathed in some sandy, salty, deliciousness. I think my board was swirling around me and randomly knocking into me, which may explain the mystery bruises all over my body today. My lungs were screaming at that point, and it was pitch black to boot. I thought I was never going to make it to the top of the water, and this was the moment when a million thoughts raced through my mind in mere seconds:

"Why have I not given Chris and Val my parents' phone number?"

"I just bought this goddamn wetsuit, and it was expensive; I don't want them to cut it off at the hospital."

"Do unconscious people breathe? Will I breathe in water and drown?"

"How long will it take someone to realize I'm not just floating there, relaxing, attached at the ankle to my board?"

"How long will it take someone to swim to me?"

"Will anyone ever find me?"

"I am never doing this again."

"Who surfs, anyway?"

"This is stupid."

At the point I felt like I was nearing the top of the water because I was beginning to see a bit of light, I swear I'd been without oxygen for 2 minutes. In reality, it was maybe 15-20 seconds. It felt like a lifetime. I got to the surface, gasping and choking, and seriously panicking. Like 'you should be breathing into a paper bag' panicking. And then another big wave came along. Intelligently, I chose option 3 this time. I paddled, panicked, paddled, and panicked for probably 10 minutes until I got out to much calmer water. When I collected enough sense to make some clear thoughts, I realized I was still panicky-breathing, crazy person-style. I forced myself to take some deep breaths. In...out...in...out. Calm. You are hyperventilating. You are going to survive. You will not die in the ocean. And then I puked. Everywhere. Strawberries and coffee. Like ralphing puking. Wretching. And it was everywhere. Puking in water is less pleasant than puking on dry land, as it quickly surrounds you. Thankfully, it also quickly washes away.

After this fun and exciting experience, I decided it may just be time to start heading in to shore. I'd had enough fun for the day, but could also not stop my body from violently shaking every time a tiny little baby wave drew near.

By the time I made it back up to my house, about a five minute walk from the water, I'd regained some sense, but still had the shakes. I started referring to my shakes as PTSD, the puke as 'fear puke', and told everyone I saw about it, and referred to it as my 'near death experience'. For some reason, I don't think good, experienced surfers are too impressed by rookie stories like these. I'm hoping it's because they're so good, and don't want to re-hash the memories of their early surfing days as it would take them back to a very dark place. I spent the rest of the day and night cowering in a corner of my bedroom. This is a bit of an exaggeration, but the shakes did take a while to subside.

But thank goodness for the cool people around here. Matt and Courtney, a South African and Canadian couple who were in Pichilemu for about a week, heard about my 'near death experience' through the grapevine and felt it was their duty to help ease a (mentally) wounded (learning) surfer back into the water. On Sunday afternoon they dropped by and gingerly coaxed me back into the waves. Matt was the video man of the surf session, so there is footage of my return. While I was shaky at first, it was a positive experience and it was great to get back out there.

The fact that I'm stubbornly determined is somewhat helpful, and slightly lessens the blow of the harsh realization of the fact that I won't automatically be good at surfing. And I'm stoked to get back out there.

Not only am I learning to surf, I'm learning surf lingo, too. Notice how I threw 'stoked' into this post a few time? Honestly, I think I need a surfer's dictionary. Communicating your surfing experiences to others, in the water and out, evokes the feelings I have when I'm trying to say something in Spanish that I just have no clue how to say, and can't for the life of me think of another way in which to say it. So googling "surfing terms" was the only obvious possible way of coming up with the wittily appropriate, if I may say so myself, blog name.

So I sign out hoping that you'll be interested in hearing stories about my adventures learning to surf, among other things, such as UGGs, as a resident of Pichilemu, Chile. Check ya later!

xoxo

Jane