It’s Thursday morning, you’re on vacation and you’re up at 6 am. Why. Why! Because surfer Yann says that the best breaks are in the early morning (it’s true). Ok, vamonos: our gracious host Eugenio senior (Uge) drives us to El Tunco, which according to the Lonely Planet is one of the best places for waves in Central America.
Let me digress briefly: Uge has a very… informal driving style, which will become relevant in a while. Hold on.
Anyway, El Tunco. I’m in awe of the black (volcanic?) sand, the sea spray on a rock perfectly rising in front of the bars, the early morning sun… At this point I realize my camera is out of battery and the charger is still in Houston. Shame…
A bunch of ripped, tanned guys teaches us the basics of surfing: paddle, wait for your turn on the break, point towards beach, push up, stay low on your legs, ride it. How hard can it be? We’re even wearing stretchy tops, for crying out loud. We look like pros (except for the colour).
It is bloody hard. We paddle for what seems eternity from the shore to the break area, then we wait. It’s amazing. The waves rise up, some experts zoom by with incredible ease and speed, then my turn comes and it goes like this.
Ok ok ok paddle woo I’m been lifted up push up! push! What the f push you sonofa! what the ARGH BLUB fuck fuck fuck I’m gonna drown here OW the ocean floor swim UP UP I need air *wheeze*. “Well, if I haven’t died this time, I’m ok for a while, no?”
So I repeat the experience a couple of times, only without the fear of drowning. I discover that if the waves are so nice it’s because there’s a shallow rocky ocean floor, where I cut my feet repeatedly. The guys and I exchange opinions and we’re ready to paddle back. OMG MORE PADDLING NOOO… everyone is limp by the time we’re back there.
I try the animistic approach this time: ok sea, I respect you, but I’m gonna ride you for a minute, ok with you? It works, up to a point. After the third ARGH BLUB SPLUT I am riding – kneeling. All this water pushing me forward, fast, it is an incredible feeling. I have a little surfing stoke, that is. Then I put the weight down in the wrong way and it’s ARGH BLUB time again.
When I’m back on the shore, I feel a sharp, horrible pain on the left of my ribcage. It hurts if I breath or pretty much do anything. I am cheerfully told by Jola “Oh you have a broken rib! There’s nothing you can do.” So I spend the rest of the day short of breath and generally being a pain in the ass for everyone. No laughing, no moving too fast, and please Uge can you drive slower? Every bend in the street – A LOT of them – makes me wince. There will be a lot of driving in the coming days. Ow.
We all head for a beach club, where we will spend the rest of the afternoon: 5 of us and 200 metres of beach, palms and beer. Lots of beer since it takes the edge off the rib thing. Nothing happens and that’s great. Then comes a gorgeous seafood cocktail and we’re ready for the bachelor party.





















