Everybody's Gone Surfin, Surfin (outside) USA

by Lisa Porter (Canada)

A leap into the unknown Portugal

I felt panic, then pain. Or was it the other way around? Too late to deliberate, I was turning upside down, moving my arms and legs so furiously, and then.... a lifesaver; the sandy bottom beneath my cramped toes. I stood up and blinked the saltwater from my burning eyes. As a result of the salt or embarrassment, I would wager both. To my surprise and then delight, no one had noticed. The others were a few feet ahead still wading out to the great big sea, becoming more at mercy with the mountainous waves coming forth to say hello to our bodies before rushing past us to kiss the sand. I put my hand to my nose, expecting blood but it was just snot and water... no harm no foul. I grabbed my yellow board and tried to hold it the way I was told, one hand at the top, one at the bottom, and angled up. One step in front of the other, I wouldn't let these waves take over. Once I got the OK, I was going to become a part of one. I glanced up at the Portugal sun and felt the beams hit my shoulders. For the end of May, it was a perfect summer day. I had traveled from the Canadian west coast to the Canadian east coast, from Pacific to across the Atlantic into Europe where I was currently waist-deep in water, ready to fulfill a want of mine, surfing. The onset of the waves coming towards me ignited a powerful feeling inside of me. Angle up, angle up! I repeated to myself. A dip of the elbow and the nose of the board was pointing upwards towards the cloudless Lisbon sky. I dared a glance behind me at the empty white sanded beach, paradise on earth. The white sand with the blue sky contrasting with the green of the eucalyptus trees was the mental snapshot I would carry with me for the remainder of my time on this earth. I turned back around and saw shapes on the horizon, other parts of the world I could not wait to explore. Morroco, that was the bigger shape way in the distance, to my right. That was what the instructor had told us; " I take my boat over there once in a while, quite the journey," he had said as we bumped along in his faded blue van, me, in the front by the window, my brother squished beside me, four strangers in the back, silent as we zoomed along an almost nonexistent dirt road that was really just two sandy ruts in between a lush forest, taking twists and turns through a little town outside the city of Lisboa. Let's keep driving, let's go to the edge of the world! A voice inside me had wanted to shout. I shook my head and brought myself back to the present. We were 8 strangers bobbing along like buoys, tethered to our boards, an anchor keeping us safe. "It is time to get on the board," Erik called out. I repeated the steps in my head; hop on the board, weight in the middle, in one fell swoop stand up, knees bent, right foot in front, left in the back, crouched position, arms out, let's do this. I saw a wave in the distance and turned my back, waiting for the signal. "GO!"I hopped on the board, heart racing, adrenaline pumping, I glanced behind me. The wave was almost to me, a rushing in my ears, the wave was huge! I jumped up, legs bent, hoped I was center enough, too scared to sneak a peek behind me. My heart thunderous in my ears, a staccato countdown ... I was gliding, mother nature was beneath me, I was actually flying. I looked at the beach drawing closer to me, could see the other students in my peripheral in varying states of surf, in disbelief that I was keeping my balance. I was the goddess of these waves, the closest to God I had ever felt. The board lurched as the sandy bottom greeted my board. I was brought home to the beach, I had done it.