Lying Stinks

This morning during our breakfast of ham, cheese and graham crackers covered in chocolate sauce with sprinkles on top, the Normal American Dad looked around to make sure Orange Guida wasn’t there, leaned over and said quietly, “Hey, you know this place isn’t anything like I expected.  Don’t you think it’s kind of weird?”

Bless him.

I responded with wide eyes and frantic finger twirling in circles around my ear using the international hand gesture for “Oh my god, it couldn’t be more fucked up.”

But this is when it got interesting.  He went on to tell me that this trip, their first exposure to surfing and a gift for his son after being accepted to the University of Minnesota, was booked through a company called pocean.  He said our flea market surf camp didn’t look anything like the pictures he was sent before booking. Apparently Craig, the guy he booked the trip with, was totally non responsive and unorganized.  Did this sound familiar? 

He’s probably sorry he asked, because I went on to bore him with my 20 minute story about being stranded at the airport for 2 hours, calling Craig repeatedly and not receiving a response.  Then I showed him the photos of the accommodation I was promised.  His jaw dropped open and he guffawed.  Craig had sent him the same photos!  Sure enough, when you go to the website, this is what you see.

And this is what we got.

My bunk bed

The Dining Room...look modern chic to you?

And the artwork!

To top things off, his sweet, shaggy son had just arrived at breakfast - covered in giant red bumps.  “What in the world bit you last night?”  I immediately thought of my skin parasites and looked down to hide my horror.    

Apparently there were mosquitoes, spiders and thousands of ants in their room so he wasn’t quite sure which of them was the culprit, but whatever it was did a thorough job. 

I considered asking them if they wanted to say adios to Portugal and try to learn surfing in The Netherlands.  There are supposed to be some decent waves up north and there wouldn’t be any bugs, or weird artwork, plus you can eat the produce.  But they seemed relatively good natured about the situation so I left it alone.

At the end of breakfast I couldn’t wait to do two things:

1.       Go after the lying creeps who wasted my holiday and gave this nice kid a pathetic introduction to surfing.  I’m paid to use puffery on a daily basis to sell products, but this was false advertising and it’s inexcusable.

2.       Go home.   And at that moment, home was Amsterdam.  But I guarantee upon arrival in Amsterdam I’ll be wishing I could go home again, whereever in the world that is.

Quality Reading and Drinking Time

There was no beginner’s lesson to annoy the hell out of me, or waves to surf either.  So I read two books - BossyPants and Kook – and got a Rudolph the Red Nose shiny sunburn on my forehead. 

I could write thousands of words in dismay over this “surf camp” but I’ll leave it to a couple hundred.  The most disappointing is that I paid for surfing lessons and I have yet to receive a single word of instruction.  Strangely, nobody has taken an interest in even talking to me about the waves, and I really would like someone to explain them to me.  This has made me heart Surf Simply even more than I did before.  Today I needed a big smile and thumb’s up from Alex when I ate it in 3 feet of waves.  I terribly missed Ru correcting my technique and telling me to do drills. And I needed Kerianne to communicate “quit complaining and just do it” in her kind and motivating way.   

Instead I got Sha-WOW who just pointed out at the ocean and sent me out back with Mona Lisa.

No, No!  Not the painting, Silly.  Not even a blow up doll version, which would have been way cooler.  Instead I got a very serious German snow board instructor who is trying to learn how to surf.  She either chose a new name later in life or has parents who were afraid they might forget what to call her one day. 

As we piled into Sha WOW’s filthy hatch back trying to avoid the cigarette butts and dog hair, Mona Lisa turned to me and said, “We’re going out back together today.  It’s safer for me that way.”

Really?  I’m here to protect you Mona Lisa?  I’ll add it to my resume.

That gave Wowsa time to focus his beginner’s training on the new American father and son duo here celebrating high school graduation.   Ironically, the father and I used to work with the same colleagues in Seattle and they are originally from Rochester, MN.  These two are really, really normal and I fear for their well being. 

A nice thing about this part of the world is that people are trustworthy and kind (even if the surf camp operators are not).  I am happily surprised that you can go surfing here and leave your valuables on the beach.  In Costa Rica petty thieves would find your stinky flip flops hidden in a hole dug half way to China. 

Trustworthiness aside, I wasn't worried about the unattended 50 euros in my shorts pockets because I only lasted 30 minutes in the water.  I didn’t know what to do with the waves, my heart wasn’t in it and Mona Lisa insisted on being as close to me as possible while having no control of her board. 

That ended my surfing experience in Ericeira and I went back to doing something I need no instruction for - drinking beer, eating salty snacks and reading at the beach.

This was an interesting experiment and I think I learned a lesson (outside of surfing that is). 

Boo Portugal!

If the suspense is killing you, I didn’t crush my skull surfing.  I was smart enough to stop after 15 (ok, maybe 10) minutes of paddling through complete shit and headed to the beach bar to enjoy some beers, sun and my new favorite beer snack (not sure what it was, but everyone else was eating it.  It’s like edamame but yellow and small.  Actually, I don’t want to find out what it is because I’m afraid it will disgust me.  Tasted good at the time.  Let’s run with it).   

I don't understand the waves here.  I was surfing with Sha-WOW and the other surf student – a physician from Austria who seems to be even more confused as to how she ended up in this wacky land than I am.  I’m proud of her for having the patience and strength to paddle for 31:26 to get out back.  She’s quite precise and timed it to the second.  I have never paddled more than 5 minutes (+/- 5 mins) to get out back before.  It’s true, my German genes have done me no good although they have fueled a thriving accounting career for my sister.

I don’t care what you think, but I was thrilled when she said she didn’t catch a single wave after trying for 2 hours.  I aborted the right mission in the name of beer, sun and happiness.  I watched those two trying to catch waves and to her credit, it looked impossible.  Why Sha-WOW took us out there is a mystery except he’s named Sha-WOW and somebody probably told him to just do it.  SW, who might be 18 years old, doesn’t appear to have opinions either way about anything.  But at least he seems to know how to drive a car.

I’ve had a couple of people ask what I was expecting on this holiday.  Well, I was expecting this…because it was the photo of the accommodation I was sent:

You might think that some lawsuits will be stemming from this trip.  If only I had the time or energy…

Just never, ever, ever book a trip with Errant Surf – ever.  I’ll post it on facebook and tripadvisor and in the bathroom stalls at work.  Probably better than suing them.  .

Tomorrow Sha-WOWSA invited me to join a beginner’s class which is sure to annoy the hell out of me.  I can only hope the lesson takes place at the beach bar, I don’t care if it’s at 10 AM.

Oh, and about the Weiner Schnitzel – the Austrian’s bailed and went out for pizza.  I said thanks for the kind offer to join them and ran to my bunk bed to eat cheese, bread and 60 cent wine.  My mother has sent me enough articles about ALIEN FORMS OF E COLI FOUND IN SPAINISH LETTUCE to keep me away from all produce during my stay. 

But I do know that I'm going to sleep well!

Surfing Portugal

A friend of mine describes Portgual as an abandoned country filled with empty, crumbling buildings.  This assessment seemed a bit harsh until I found myself staying in one of those crumbling buildings.  This collection of ruins 50 kms outside of Lisbon was reclaimed by the current owner, Guida, who has spent the last 15 years “fixing it up” into the flea market and surfer guest house it is today.   

Guida is a lovely and interesting person who reminds me of Ernie - of Bert and Ernie fame - mostly because they’re both orange.  Guida’s curly hair is flaming orange, her skin is a slightly browner tone, her nails are painted orange and she wears electric blue eye shadow for flair. 

I can only imagine the amount of work Orange Guida and her eccentric collection of artist friends put into restoring this place, much less the daily work spent running it.  Living here would leave me in a constant panic with lists of the thousands of things requiring immediate attention from trimming the overgrown hydrangea to figuring out how to turn hot water on for my guests.  Guida does not seem bothered by any of it, and after showing me to my bunk bed filled room, took me to the beach for pizza and beer.  This was a brilliant tactic because who cares about hot water when you’ve got pizza and beer?

Thankfully running this establishment is not my responsibility – but staying here is.  Unfortunately my trip started off on rough note beginning with a 4:15AM wake up call, leading to a delayed flight, and then a grand finale of waiting at the Lisbon airport for 2 hours looking for the taxi that promised to be waiting there for me.  After making repeated unreturned phone calls to the owners, I finally hopped into a taxi by myself.  It took considerable team work with the driver to find this random building in the middle of nowhere, but we did it.  Plus the driver was a surfer, so he entertained me with surfing information while we drove around aimlessly in Ericeira.

I learned that professional surfing championships will be held here in 2 weeks and that Ericeira is a really dangerous place to surf.  I probably should have checked into this before booking my trip.  The driver informed me that the waves here are the best in Portugal because there is nothing but hard rock under the water.  When I looked surprised to hear this information, the he looked in the rear mirror, pointed his finger in the air and said “you must be very careful not to crush your head.”

I've never seen a surfer catching waves with a helmet on, so I may be the very first.

Dinner last night was made by Roberto, a Spanish surfing instructor, who served all you can eat eggs and fish soup about 2 hours later than planned.  It was much better than it sounds.   Tomorrow night the Austrians are making Weiner Schnitzel and so I might be going to bed early.  

You might be sitting there wondering how I am able to write this AND surf at the same time.  Although that would be remarkable, the truth is the waves are barreling too much this morning and the surfing instructor – named Sha-WOW, of course – is hoping they calm down a bit by lunch time.   I haven’t mentioned yet that the water is about 10 degrees celsius. 

Which has reminded me of one of the things I appreciate so much about surfing - it puts you in uncomfortable situations, allowing you to overcome your fears.  I am even more appreciative that this opportunity has been delayed by two hours.

In my haste to catch the 6 AM flight I forgot my camera, so this is all from my phone which probably makes it look even more sad.

this is where yoga class is held.

I like to believe these are ancient roman ruins.

There are beds placed randomly all over the property just in case you need an immediate siesta.