Another year has passed, the circus has come and gone. Looking back, 2011 was a better experience than previous years. Before the fuss started everyone anticipated the arrival of the elite, I the opposite. I knew that along with the incredible display of surfing there was the side I wasn’t too fond of. Late nights fueled by alcohol and the uncomfortable blind eye turned from the consumption of other substances. Last year I don’t think I surfed very much while the crew were around, late nights got the better of me and I even missed seeing Fanning win the final. This year I watched almost every heat and as the competition progressed it became more and more exciting! 5 minutes to go in the final, Aussie Jules gets up and announces he’s grabbing a victory beer as it was clear Julian had smashed it! Gabriel blew everyones’ minds! The ability he has to pull maneuvers in such a pressured moment deserves immense applause. Needless to say I now do enjoy the ASP events as the level of surfing in the competitions has risen and to watch it live on the beach is so intense!
Off to Portugal for the Ripcurl Pro! Yew!
adventures of a nomadic surfer
Monday, October 17, 2011
Saturday, October 15, 2011
EFF YOU SEE KAY
certain people make you say fuck
it's contagious
it casually rolls off your tongue before you can consciously stop fucking staying it
fuck!
it's contagious
it casually rolls off your tongue before you can consciously stop fucking staying it
fuck!
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| 'Why is it that images and words so often contradict one another?' Cloudy Rhodes http://cloudyrhodes.tumblr.com/ |
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
La Tomatina
La Tomatina is a festival celebrated on the last Wednesday of August. Every year, Buñol, a small town outside of Valencia, invites 40,000 people to let havoc have its way. It is said to have started due to a brawl that happened during the Gigantes y cabezudos festival (paper maché head parade). Where a group of men got into a scuffle and the nearby vegetable stand was demolished. The police had to break up the fight and those involved had to pay for the damages incurred. The following year the fight was repeated except that the participants brought their own vegetable-like ammunition. Repeated in subsequent years, the party was unofficially established.
La Tomatina is your typical food fight with the commencement displayed by the lucky/talented person who climbs to the top of a greased pole "palo jabón" to claim his leg of ham. This year was the first in 5 that someone had managed to climb the human pyramid and reach the top. The centre of the festivities was rammed by the high paying tour groups. Prime dollar means prime position. They were the ones that left on their air conditioned bus with acid in their eyes and a tomato stench that will remain with them for weeks. In the surrounding streets locals from their balconies and rooftops were throwing buckets of water over the hooligans below. We were 4 innocent girls, dressed in white and just so happened to walk through the middle of the main street and be bombarded by an aggressive group of Spaniards. We were previously made aware that not a single item of clothing worn on this day was ever going to be wearable and so considering our clothes were going to be ruined, men were inclined to aid the process of destroying our cheaply purchased apparel. We weren't fooled, our preparation was adequate and our black secured sports bras and scouts tying knots skills saved the day. 2 out of 4 girls' tops were ripped by this mob.
The tomato trucks arrived and after being attacked by the t-shirt rippers we retreated to safer ground. Along with the red slushy fruit came its smell. Everyone had tomato everywhere! In the summer sun it crusted in your hair and left our white outfit a textured red. After an hour of picking up splodgey tomato flesh and throwing it at who ever, the masses headed to the communal fountain to rinse themselves from the dried red slush before the partying begun. Sangria and Nanna's home made pizza slices were sold on the street and the local bakery displayed some fine spanish pastries.
The long day ended with the poor smelling pleb on the train and returning to the civility of Valencia.
I feel sorry for the town of Buñol, tomatoed as can be. Although, apparently the acidity of the tomatoes disinfects the cobblestone streets. I just wonder how long it takes for the horrid smell to leave. Why didn't those silly boys just have a water fight instead?
La Tomatina is your typical food fight with the commencement displayed by the lucky/talented person who climbs to the top of a greased pole "palo jabón" to claim his leg of ham. This year was the first in 5 that someone had managed to climb the human pyramid and reach the top. The centre of the festivities was rammed by the high paying tour groups. Prime dollar means prime position. They were the ones that left on their air conditioned bus with acid in their eyes and a tomato stench that will remain with them for weeks. In the surrounding streets locals from their balconies and rooftops were throwing buckets of water over the hooligans below. We were 4 innocent girls, dressed in white and just so happened to walk through the middle of the main street and be bombarded by an aggressive group of Spaniards. We were previously made aware that not a single item of clothing worn on this day was ever going to be wearable and so considering our clothes were going to be ruined, men were inclined to aid the process of destroying our cheaply purchased apparel. We weren't fooled, our preparation was adequate and our black secured sports bras and scouts tying knots skills saved the day. 2 out of 4 girls' tops were ripped by this mob.
The tomato trucks arrived and after being attacked by the t-shirt rippers we retreated to safer ground. Along with the red slushy fruit came its smell. Everyone had tomato everywhere! In the summer sun it crusted in your hair and left our white outfit a textured red. After an hour of picking up splodgey tomato flesh and throwing it at who ever, the masses headed to the communal fountain to rinse themselves from the dried red slush before the partying begun. Sangria and Nanna's home made pizza slices were sold on the street and the local bakery displayed some fine spanish pastries.
The long day ended with the poor smelling pleb on the train and returning to the civility of Valencia.
I feel sorry for the town of Buñol, tomatoed as can be. Although, apparently the acidity of the tomatoes disinfects the cobblestone streets. I just wonder how long it takes for the horrid smell to leave. Why didn't those silly boys just have a water fight instead?
Sunday, August 28, 2011
San Sebastian
San Seb is a place that I am glad to have only 1 hour drive from my home in Seignosse. I don't think I appreciated truly the goodness that is there till I travelled to other cities of Spain. Its Basque cuisine and beautiful city architecture located on the beach would have to be one of my favourite places to escape the Hossegor madness to. I have been to Basque tapas bars in Barcelona and Madrid and they don't compare. The small streets that are lined with bars in the old town cater for a fun evening with friends trying a few tapas and having a kalimutxo or sangria and then moving on to the next. It is a great way to spend quality time with friends over a glass of wine accompanied by the best food of the region.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
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