Tag: writing

I left Saint-Christophe-des-Bardes for 24 hours. 

I went to Biarritz. This was the purpose of this trip. 

I left beaming, my soul moving with the rhythm of the music. 

I thanked the vineyards for their peace, the birds for their songs, the insects for minding their own business. 

And the fresh air. 

The little stray cat I’d befriended ran in the house as I was trying to lock the door to leave.

I called it back out. 

It jumped over a little concrete wall and looked at me. Then looked out at the vineyards.

I called to it, and we locked eyes for what I thought would be our last moment together.

I thanked it and wished it well. I don’t know if it understood.

Then it turned around and walked slowly off into the vines. 

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Biarritz was a lot. The Airbnb was nestled in a neighborhood. Albeit not a pretty one.

Boxed in, a bit run down. Windows right on the street. I’d see day trippers parking there and walking 15 minutes into town. 

Why? Because the town’s parking and narrow roads were just too difficult to navigate. 

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I’ve surfed all over. I’ve worked through the etiquette, egos and tides across the world. I’m a local at Malibu first point. Was a local at Kuta Lombok. I’ve charged cloudbreak.

I’m not an asshole. I’m respectful. I longboard, short board, mid length… whatever. 

I’ve felt welcoming lineups, and I’ve felt stiff performative ones as well.

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The locals were judgey. Glaring eyes. Posturing. Styled. Weird. Napoleon complexes abound in performance shortboarding.

The waves were good for France. But it was that fat deep water European stuff. Chunky. A lot of water moving. Not shallow enough to really get a good push into the wave.

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Sometimes you don’t know what your soul needs until you get there. 

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What my soul wanted was a chill beach town, beat up rental log, a few soul sliders before and after work. All smiles; that’s the first thing I realized when I started longboarding. Way more smiles. Way more soul. Way less doing. Way less testosterone. Way more babes.

yea… way more soul…

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After I checked the surf and realized… “yeah… this is gonna be a whole thing” … I grabbed a beach cruiser and cycled all around the gorgeous bluffs of biarritz. 

Hair down, dreads blowing, smiles from all sorts of babes. Meandering through the town. Biking in places people don’t usually go. Trying to keep it together and keep my eyes on the road because of the beauty of the whole place.

I take a lot of photos. I swear though, the most beautiful ones don’t get taken. I’m just too wrapped up in it. 

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The town of biarritz has three sceney spots. Just annoying. 

Women with stiff faces, probably botoxed, sipping some sort of light colored drink in perfect see through glasses. 

I breezed by the first scene on my bike… I realized it was a scene when I peddled half way through.

Then there’s this huge bluff with a switchback. The old rusty beach cruiser I was on didn’t have enough gears. I was hoofing it, lol! Climbing with a huge smile on my face. 

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When I got to the bluff I was astounded. The overlook had about 150 yards of railing. Jam packed with people from, I assume, all over Europe. I don’t know. 

Giggling to myself I thought… “What the fuck?!?!” lol. 

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The rest of the ride was cruisy. Less populated. Gorgeous ocean. And then the final scene with the douchey surfers… yikes.

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Coming back I passed the bluff again. Even more crowded. A bar that was more packed than I’d seen in a while.

Everyone drinking and smoking. 

I went up and left my bike unlocked on one of the overpacked bike racks… Multiple layers of people watching the sunset. I couldn’t even find a spot to stand. It was like a music festival…

I picked up my bike and started walking it out. I saw a couple of style people wearing those light yellow sunglasses that are getting popular again in SoCal. I smiled and laughed. 

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On the way home I biked through the town… Scene #4. Patios, drinks, trendy restaurants. Loads of babes.

I smiled at everyone of them. They smiled back. We held eye contact long enough to know what might happen if we spoke.

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When I got back to the airbnb I knew Biarritz wasn’t it right now. 

I ordered Uber eats. 

The driver stole part of my order. 

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I hopped on Airbnb and booked the place I stayed in Saint-Émilion. 

I woke up in the morning and knew I could make Biarritz work if I wanted to. I abound with optimism every morning – I’ve trained this.

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I found ants crawling all over my luggage. Everywhere. All over my shirts.

And left promptly after.

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I wrestled with a lot of emotion over this decision. I felt like I was giving up. The idea of the trip unraveling.

But did it truly unravel?

Isn’t the point of adventure the unexpected? Isn’t the growth of the soul a deepening of the appreciation of that which you couldn’t even fathom? 

If you told me I’d rather stay in the french countryside surrounded by vineyards, vs. a surf town like Biarritz… I woulda laughed you out of the room…

But here I am…

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Discerning ego from soul is simple. The soul is light as a feather. Truth is as simple as a thought that lasts a millisecond.

The ego constricts. It makes the world small. It doesn’t flow. It grasps. It doesn’t let go. It holds onto ideas. The ego is exhausting… And inexhaustible. 

The ego in this scenario beat me up–why don’t you just make it work? But you’re losing money if you go back to the place you were at… some of the best things in life are challenging, why don’t you just push through? Maybe your wife is here? Maybe you’ll meet that victoria long boarder girlie and fall in love like in your fantasies….

Looking back on the ego, it’s so clear that it was ego. Hard in the moment though, especially when it has its tentacles around your brain

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Wouldn’t it be so simple if there was a roadmap for following your heart? For following your soul?

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The ride back to Saint-Émilion was perfect. The ego kept popping up. I kept letting go. 

When I pulled up to the little house, the stray cat I adore and had been taking care of greeted me. It appeared out of nowhere, immediately when I started pulling into the driveway. 

When I hopped out of the car it came up and rubbed on my ankles like the first time we met.

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I unpacked… And put my suitcase down on the table outside. 

Ants crawling all over it still from the prior airbnb.

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I called airbnb to let them know. Messaged the hosts.

Airbnb responded, the hosts didn’t. 

I sent a video.

Got refunded.

The cost of my trip actually decreased. 

I was honest, truthful… I followed my instincts and went to where my soul was at peace. 

The airbnb hosts were upset after the refund. They berated me. I walked in peace. I couldn’t help but think “maybe I and this scenario are a learning lesson for them”.

The universe has a way of taking care of things when you walk in truth. 

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I had the best run in months that night. 6×10 minutes on 1 minutes rest.

The bone stress injuries to my tibia had finally healed after 4 month–they felt so strong…

New bone. Strong. Rested. Rejuvenated.

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That evening I went for a walk. There were scattered showers earlier. 

I turned around overlooking the rolling hills of Saint-Émilion. 

The most vivid rainbow I’d seen in years encompassed the entire horizon.

I’ll never forget it. The best photos go untaken

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God works in mysterious ways.

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