BAILA BAILA

This morning’s surf session feels like repeatedly being pummeled by waves with noodle arms to paddle. The freshness of the first day has most certainly worn off, replaced by sore arms, sore ribs, and sore hip bones. We are back to paddling our own waves, and in the second hour, we learn about turning. It seems a bit premature to me seeing as I am not sure I stood up on a single wave in the first hour. My noodle arms just shake as I try to push up, and I eat it into the wave. At one point, one of the instructors quickly says, “grab my feet” and proceeds to paddle me across the ocean. I must look quite dead in my fight to paddle against the waves. I really should have done my prescribed push-ups the last two weeks. Fortunately, I did read the seven page email from Swell about what to bring—surf leggings and reef shoes. My legs are very thankful; some other Swell surfers now have very raw legs from all the time on the board. The shoes may look goofy and mine continue to fill with water, but I am very glad to have them in the shallow and reef-filled water. Despite the noodle arms and wave pummeling, it is fun surf morning, and I manage to get a couple.

Back at Swell, we enjoy another yummy and home-cooked breakfast. The potatoes are delicious. After breakfast, everyone heads out for a second surf, while Mom and I get ready for our dance lesson. T loves to dance and highly recommends. We meet Anderson, the dance instructor who was a professional dancer, in the sports bar on the beach. It is quite the backdrop for a dance lesson. He shows us some basic Salsa moves, and we put it to music. My brain is busy trying to remember each step, and Anderson throws in some fancy spins—all the same steps, he assures, just different arms. It is a lot of fun, and Anderson is a great teacher.

On our walk back to T’s Mom starts getting sick. She felt it coming on this morning, and honestly, I can’t believe she made it through the dance lesson. We rush into a pharmacy where she sits down and I, in Spanish, ask for some medicine. The pharmacist starts explaining the medicine and what to take in Spanish. My eyes get big, and I slowly respond, “no entiendo” (I don’t understand). “Okay,” she responds and then repeats herself in English. At least I tried. At T’s, Mom tries to rest a bit while I write a blog. It seems she has come into some food poisoning or something of the sort. While Mom does her meeting (she cleared her work schedule as much as she could on two weeks notice but has a few things she needs to do), I return to Swell for yoga. Of course, I get hit on by a Dominican man on my way.

Prior to yoga, the one thing I say is “I hope there are not a lot of push-ups.” Of course, this sets us up for push-ups. The yoga instructor comes to Swell, and we get set-up by the pool. She does more of a stretch session with us, and there most certainly are some push-ups…with holds. My noodle arms can’t handle that. It is also clear my gymnastics flexibility has diminished. It is nice to stretch after all that surfing though, and we end with an optional headstand. I opt out deciding that if I hurt myself this week it will be while surfing.

Dinner tonight is at Swell, home-cooked and traditional Dominican food. While the ladies cook, we play a game of Scrabble (Australian slang strictly off limits). By some miracle, I manage to come in second (Joelle, I hope you’re proud). Although, it becomes more of a team sport by the end. Dinner is delicious—rice, lentils, and chicken (for those that eat chicken), followed by lots of chatting and laughs. The community feel is very fun. It is off to bed before too late because that surf alarm comes early.

Proof that I participated in the dance lesson: