Surfer Dudes

Guaranteed Assault on the Senses!

Headed to the Sea Sessions Festival on Sunday last—where surf and music smash into the Atlantic coast of Jobos (ho-bos) and surfers, to my amazement, predict high waves.

This beach is close to our home and we pass the village on the coastline every day to and from from school.

Jobos beach is a hive of thrills and excitement for locals and visitors. Rocking the ocean is the surfers purpose in life... man.

I met thrill-seeking surfer dudes who went out to make a few waves this past weekend. I'm learning more. One dude thought "dropping in on a big swell is, like, bo-dog-daciously" (if I heard him correctly).

Another said, "Las playas están a rebosar." (I'll have to trust him on that.)

Initially, it is somewhat hypnotic—the waves move up and down, like people at a football game doing the wave. It is all about energy.

I have made remarks before about this side of the Atlantic Ocean being a big mover and shaker, never sleeping. Sometimes you can even see the waves transporting energy—these waters are like little earthquakes, such as when a blast of sound hits you. (A screaming 2-year-old at makin' a big stink, can give me that same energy.)

Surface waves are made by the wind whipping up the water. Deeper water waves are caused by the moon's gravity pulling on ocean water. Waves at Packer games are most likely caused by rotgut hooch.

Speaking of earthquakes, I tried to be a little one last Sunday.

Some amateur international surfer competition descended on Jobos Beach and this little missy went to center stage to find out more and take photos of the winning surfers. I tried to be swift and deadly, like an earthquake (or at least as swift as a tectonic shift). I can strike without warning, spreading chaos and disaster. I can break surf stories like a cookie upon the lips of Cookie Monster.

But, I was a minor quake, being in a new country, passing harmlessly in front of everyone, “HEY LADY GET OUTTA DA WAY!!” that waited and partied for hours and patiently waiting for the winner to take their glory.

I had a lot of energy stored up, wanted to meet the winner myself. If not, the grinding tectonic crust leaps and buckles—I might tear up the Puerto Rican roads like ribbons in my car with disappointment on the way home. I would have done somethin' fierce later, if I didn't get my shot. So, enjoy by slapdash/snapshot hackery.

I heard somebody say, "Well, after all, she is English!" Ha! I'll let the English take the blame any day. It was a good day for me! Sad to be proud of being obnoxious and re-hashing history.

Height of Waves here in the next few months... 15 ft

Height of Killer Waves: 49 ft.