After about twenty hours of travel, I made it to Puerto Vallarta airport just about an hour before my good friends Shannon and Michael arrived from San Francisco. I immediately needed to shed my jeans and shoes for I am now highly aware of being in a new tropical zone of the planet. My hair went from merely wavy, to full afro in about twenty minutes. I was concerned the weather would be oppressively hot way down here below the southern tip of Baja California. But the cool Pacific breeze keeps the weather perfect all day and night.
They had arranged with Marc, a friend from home, to stay on his boat which is stored here at a nearby marina. Some friends of Marc's immediately greeted us at his boat and we had an immediate welcoming committee. Cruisers are similar to backpackers ad RV folks, in that they provide a friendly, helpful community at any marina around the world. These folks were no different.
The next day we headed for Sayulita beach, a small surfing town just north of PV. Within an hour or so, Shannon used her signature mixture of luck and sociability to secure us the guesthouse of a local beachfront business owner for less than the price of a normal hotel room. She really is a secret weapon. The place is the upstairs floor of a building overlooking the water with beds both inside and outside on the large deck, complete with puffy chairs and a hammock.
I didn't do much research about this beach before I arrived. I was mainly excited to see my friends and hang out at the beach. But I became immediately aware that this is a popular beach to learn how to surf. The waves are small but constant and the water nice and warm. Teachers and rental shops line the beach.
On Wednesday I thought I might like to take a lesson while I am here, so I asked at one of the tents along the beach. He says it is $30 US for an hour of training and would I like to get started right now. I tell him that today I am just chilling, swimming, and reading, but tomorrow I will probably hit him up.
The next day when I went out to find the guy, I realized there really weren't any waves out on the water. The teacher confirmed that it was now, indeed, a poor time to try and learn. I guess that was my first lesson of surfing. If the waves look good now, go.
Duh.
They had arranged with Marc, a friend from home, to stay on his boat which is stored here at a nearby marina. Some friends of Marc's immediately greeted us at his boat and we had an immediate welcoming committee. Cruisers are similar to backpackers ad RV folks, in that they provide a friendly, helpful community at any marina around the world. These folks were no different.
The next day we headed for Sayulita beach, a small surfing town just north of PV. Within an hour or so, Shannon used her signature mixture of luck and sociability to secure us the guesthouse of a local beachfront business owner for less than the price of a normal hotel room. She really is a secret weapon. The place is the upstairs floor of a building overlooking the water with beds both inside and outside on the large deck, complete with puffy chairs and a hammock.
I didn't do much research about this beach before I arrived. I was mainly excited to see my friends and hang out at the beach. But I became immediately aware that this is a popular beach to learn how to surf. The waves are small but constant and the water nice and warm. Teachers and rental shops line the beach.
On Wednesday I thought I might like to take a lesson while I am here, so I asked at one of the tents along the beach. He says it is $30 US for an hour of training and would I like to get started right now. I tell him that today I am just chilling, swimming, and reading, but tomorrow I will probably hit him up.
The next day when I went out to find the guy, I realized there really weren't any waves out on the water. The teacher confirmed that it was now, indeed, a poor time to try and learn. I guess that was my first lesson of surfing. If the waves look good now, go.
Duh.
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