Body Surfing

I just spent a week in the Dominican Republic with my family. I reveled in the glorious sand, sun, water and frozen rum drinks. Thanks to Tropical Storm Emily, we spent more time body surfing than snorkeling, but I'm not complainin.  I wrote this between swims, sitting on the beach in our little sea grape hideout.

This morning the sky was partly cloudy and the sea breeze a bit more forceful than it has been. The water was rough, too. Waist high waves were crashing on the beach, stirring up sand and foam and seaweed. A few yards out, the swimmers bobbed up and down like ocean bouies. I stood at the edge of the surf and thought I might just get my feet wet, rather than be tossed around Ike that. It was only 10 AM after all and I was still full from eating too much fried banana on waffles drizzled with sweetened condensed milk. And sausage. And cafe con leche. All right, AND a croissant with Nutella.

But I waded in a little further and realized I was in the midst of the best body surfing conditions we've seen all week, so I dunked under and caught the next big wave that came along. It carried me with it's curling momentum for a few feet and then I was up and heading back out, seeking the next ride.

I can completely understand why surfing and surfers are such an extreme and dedicated culture. It's kind of a quintiscentially addictive activity, because when it works just right, it's a transcendent experience. A nice big wave comes along and you jump just at the right time, sucked for a second back into it's undertow, then propelled forward in that sweet spot right under the crest, riding toward the beach for 20, 25, 30 feet, feeling like you are an integral part of the ocean, just being pulled around by the moon like every other molecule of water. Not this separate, intrusive being, fighting to control nature like almost every other moment of our lives.

But it rarely works just right. For every perfect wave you catch, there are 20 that disappoint. Lots are too small to bother with. Some look like they'll break, but just dissolve into nothing under your body. Some crash too soon, right over your head, leaving you a salty tangled mess, disoriented for a few seconds, just long enough to miss the next wave, but still see as it passes that it would have been the one to wait for.

Some people find the ratio of success to "failure" too low to bother with and give up quickly. I find myself saying "I'll just ride one more wave and then get out." I wait and jump and dunk and swim and glide and finally get one that carries me all the way to a sand-filled bathing suit and then I go back for 1 more again and again and again until 45 minutes have gone by along with my window for reapplying sunscreen. I'm pink and exhausted and still it's an effort to will myself away from the water, because look, that next wave could be the best one yet. I'm like a gambling addict playing the slots, sure that with this next quarter, I'll hit the jackpot. But this is vacation and I've got time and calories to burn, so as long as I keep the SPF high, I can indulge my addiction.

A Different Trip

I've driven all around this country quite a bit, but I'm leaving tomorrow on a road trip that will be a bit different. Here's why:
1.) I'm not playing any shows along the way.
2.) I'm driving straight through from Massachusetts to Berkeley. This will take me through two states I've never set foot in, Wyoming and Nevada. (I'm also not sure if I've been in Nebraska, but I'll be 7 hours sure after this drive.)
3.) I'll have a huge black lab named Fenway in the car with me. (Photo by my aunt Suzanne!)

It's not a very complicated story. My good friends Matt and Sara and their two kids moved from Great Barrington to Berkeley this month. We met in Portland 10 years ago and have stayed in touch through many moves (Maine, Mexico, Texas) over the years. It was so great that we all lived in the Berkshires for the past 6 months, but now Matt's company has relocated to San Francisco and they flew away last week. The problem was that their huge, old dog wasn't up for a plane trip and they didn't have the time (or patience with a 3- and 1-year-old) to drive across country. Since I have a "flexible schedule," I said I'd drive their car and dog across country. I'm still thinking it will be kinda fun and not absolute insanity.

I'm planning to drive about 12 hours a day and stick mostly to Interstate 80. I figure between me and the dog, we'll need to stop every few hours to pee and stretch, so I'm hoping a few National Parks will be close to the highway.  It should be beautiful from the highway anyway, so I'm excited for the scenery.

I had wanted to listen to some epic book series or the entire catalog of a certain artist, but I couldn't really decide. Right now I have 3 audiobooks and a full iPod, but I'm dissatisfied. It seems to choppy. I want something that will tie the whole drive together. A single narrative. Maybe I'll create my own somehow.

I'm not particularly worried about the long hours of driving. I've done that before. I'm mostly worried that Fenway will be stressed or hot or stiff. He is old and delicate. It's been hot here for the past few days and he is miserable. I finally set up an air conditioner in his room last night to help cool him off. I don't even have an AC in my room, but this dog needed it. This morning around 9am, I hear him yowling and howling like never before. I'd already fed and walked him, so I didn't know why he would make such a fuss. I went in to find that the AC had cycled off and needed to be reset. Really. This dog was desperate for me to turn his AC back on. Things I won't do for myself, and I won't do for my pets, I'll do for my friends' pets. That is so me.

But thank god we aren't driving Matt and Sara's old Jeep Cherokee as originally planned. It has no AC, which didn't really bother me, but now I'm sure Fenway would not have made it in the Jeep. M&S figured it wouldn't pass emissions inspection in California, so another friend drove the Jeep up to their house in Maine. Now Fenway and I are in a new car with AC and low miles and cruise control and we are gonna be fine. I hope.

Now, back to packing and prepping. Fenway needs one more bath before we spend 48 hours in the car together. Stay tuned...

Northwestern Adventures

Just a quick list of random things I noticed when I was in Oregon and Washington last month:

Starbucks on every corner in Seattle, I think I get why you need to drink so much coffee in that gloomy weather.

I found myself driving down Sleater-Kinney Street.

In Bellingham, I got to see the sun set over the water for the first time. Ever.

Old Town Cafe in Bellingham where you can sing for your supper and they judge you if you order bacon. I went for breakfast which is way to early to sing. Of course I had to order the bacon. It was burned.

Powell's books is overwhelming, but really inspiring, too.

Stunning coast in Oregon and surfers there are fun and nerve-wracking to watch.

I ate lots of seafood, especially loved my baked salmon sandwich from a little counter lunch spot near the Pike Place market. Think it was called Three Sisters Bakery. I also ate Morels and Fiddleheads. And drank lots of coffee.

I saw Elk and I think I saw an Eagle. I know I saw a sign on a rural gas station that said: "Espresso and Hot Dogs."

Started out cynical, but admitted that it really is an awesome area. But that still doesn't give people from there the right to be smug.