I’m a married man. Yes, thank you, thank you. And since this newly married man has a wife with wants and needs, I’ve begun contemplating, no, meditating about certain things that will have to be adjusted, if it’s possible to even adjust. You see, for the past ten years or so, traveling has taken on a different meaning. My definition of travel: finding a place to score some waves; to get my fix in a location that has better waves than where I live (or that at least has equally good waves, but is also beautiful and warm — I fuckin’ love beautiful and warm places). It’s an either or type of deal.
So in the last ten years, where have I gone on “vacation”? Costa Rica, Australia, Mexico, Puerto Rico, France, Indonesia, New Zealand, etc. These destinations fit my above criteria, and I have come out a better, humbled, forever-a-barney-yet-happy surfer because of it. But here is the catch. My wife (Kookalita), as beautiful, and understanding as she is, doesn’t surf. That’s fine, but what does it mean about traveling? I’m sweating just thinking about this question, but it has to be answered. What if she wants to roam the skyline mountain towns of the Alps, or trek through Tequila country in Mexico, or see the ruins in Rome, or go to Nepal for altitude sickness — what if she wants to dance salsa in Colombia? Can I even dance salsa? That’s not the point, the point is, can I go to an inland city in Colombia? Well I’m sure you get the point at this point.
The way I see it, there are three options:
- Let my wants and desires for frothy tubes and tan skin be the sole driving force behind our travels in our relationship. Essentially, only take her on surf trips.
- Go to destinations within driving distance of good waves, but mask the trip as a regular vacation, and bring my boards just in case.
- Travel without the intention of surfing — travel to see the world and broaden my horizons; travel to become a better, well-rounded person with worldly perspectives.
While my heart says to choose #1, my logical, empathetic (hopefully not PAthetic) mind tells me that there should be some compromise here. There should be a combination of all three that will help Kookalita and me thrive.
Let’s dissect. I’m going to go on surf trips, solely for the purpose of surfing. It is a life necessity, rivaling the oxygen that we breathe or the water that we drink (maybe that’s too far). But, to live a life where the grumpiness doesn’t slowly creep in, and where frustrations don’t boil over, I’m going to need a face-peeling, arm-noodling, beer-drinking week of selfish indulgence from time to time. That said, and dare I say it, that doesn’t need to be every time.
But which of the above options works best for the other 50 % of our adventures? Do I hide my true intentions, and, while on vacation with the love of my life, slip away to rendezvous with the other love of my life? “Baby, you always wanted to learn French, right? You always wanted to learn French and drink French Wine, correct? Let’s go to Bordeaux!” Boom, I’ll slip away in the night, rent a Peugeot, throw on a scarf, and head to Lacanau. Hmm, a masterful plan. But the truth is, while I’m out on the coast, with pine aromas filling my airways, and gazing at a glassy, beach break paradise, guilt will shroud my experience. I’ll blow my takeoffs (more than I usually do), then drink my after-sesh Kronenbourg 1664, lacking spirit. A pitiful experience. A mechanical experience. That’s probably not the play.
However, I can’t go to a surf-adjacent location and not surf. Trust me. We went to Puerto Escondido for our honeymoon, and while beautiful, fun and exciting, whenever we were in town, a cloud of surf angst followed us around. We indulged in some ice-cold cervezas and tequila to quell the nagging surf angst, only for me to try to paddle out hungover, blow waves, and get mad-dogged by locals. Yeesh! Our favorite days involved hopping on the scooter and cruising inland, or to beaches that weren’t breaking. No waves, no angst. On your honeymoon, go watch the turtles crawl to the beach or take some winding mountain roads to densely forested trails to see a waterfall. That’s the move.
Here’s what I learned, or maybe convincing myself to believe: Broadening the spectrum of things that we do will only make experiencing the things that we love more meaningful. Over indulgence can actually detract from experiencing life’s finest moments. And, of course, having someone to share those experiences with will make that Bordeaux beverage all the more rich; full-bodied. So I will choose to compromise in regards to adventure and travel, and hopefully, with a little luck, and a little discipline, I can attend a Civil War reenactment, or pace atop the Great Wall of China without letting the images of waves breaking on distant shores kidnap me from where I am in that moment. (Shit, but Virginia Beach is right there, and there’s surf in China, right?). Wish me luck!
— Barney Beadette
P.S. Make sure to check out last week’s post — here — fish’s are in!