Sixteenth Blog - A typical "winters" day

I guess it was inevitable..the heat, 3-4 hours of training a day and a sneaky 3 glasses of wine and it was "hello heat exhaustion...". Wednesday morning my body basically decided to put on the screen saver until further notice and I had no choice but to go horizontal with buckets of re-hydration fluids for a couple of days. Luckily I did not miss much. The ocean has been grim for the past 3 days - the French mistress is in one of her inexplicable bad moods I guess.... Although starting to feel the withdrawal symptoms from not surfing for 3 (!) days, my body has come back stronger than ever after its little sabbatical. I did my usual training program this morning and for a change it didn't feel like my arms where going to fall off. There is hope that I'll be able to give Juan a go when he is ready next week after all!!

Today the locals told me "winter" has arrived here in Hermosa. I am still trying to figure out exactly what the difference is. In Sweden we would just call it a cloudy summers day.... It is true that the temperature has gone from somewhere around 32-34 to 26-28 and as I went for my morning walk I did put on a tanktop over my bikini, but it is not like I am scraping frost off my car in the morning. I have never been a fan of winter (unless there is snow and a mountain nearby..) but this I can get use to!

Fifteenth Blog - The day of last days

The positive side of being in a tourist town is that you get to meet new people with all kinds of life stories that you would normally never get the chance to hear. The negative side is of course that these people are just passing through. Today is the day for leavings. Tony, who has been here for almost 2 weeks, is returning to New York. Even though he paddled out in 6 ft waves and to his horror realised there was no way to get back except to try and surf them (which resulted in a battle that the waves ultimately won..) he has fallen in love with surfing and since then won a fair few fights out there. I think he will probably be back... Bobo, a 50+ true Texan who has been coming here for 25 years is also going home today. As an old friend of Alvaro's, we have had the pleasure of his company in the water over the past 10 days and despite him forcing us to get up at dawn even though the tide is low and him stealing my waves I will greatly miss him. Fortunately he will be back in a few months and is bringing his 25-year old, 6'4'' handsome son along so I look forward to that... Finally, Corinne is heading back to Holland tomorrow. I have really enjoyed getting to know her over the past 3 weeks and hope she will be a friend for years to come. Corinne had a bit of an incident her second day surfing when her board hit her quite hard in the head, and she has been struggling with the fear caused by the accident ever since. Yesterday she decided to give it another go and she was catching wave after wave with a big smile on her face until a freak wave dragged her under and it all came back to her. When she popped up on the surface her eyes were like a deer's in headlights and both me and Alvaro knew it was over for her for now. I hope she finds her way back to surfing.



As for me, I just keep falling deeper and deeper in love with surfing and the life that comes with it. As soon as I hit the water everything else becomes irrelevant. I love sitting on my board bantering with the local surfers who have started to accept me as "one of their own" while waiting for a wave. I love the moment the wistling starts, which is the local way of telling the other surfers a great wave is coming their way, and I love the adrenaline and excitement that kicks in when Alvaro goes "Turn around - This could be the wave of your life".



Me, Tony and Corinne were sitting on my veranda yesterday evening after a delicious BBQ when Corinne looked at me and said "I don't know how you are ever going to be able to leave this place. You clearly belong here". I don't now either...

Fourteenth Blog - Borta bra men hemma bast

There is this saying in Swedish which translates into something like "away is good but home is the best." I can now at least say that I have seen a bit of Costa Rica and not only my surfboard...

The Nicoya Peninsula, which is the "hook" sticking out from the north of the mainland, is about 3 1/2 hours away from here, and involves a boat ride and a long stretch of very questionable "road". I pretty much wept of joy when I saw tarmac again. We started out in Malpais, a beautiful stretch of sandy white beach. As it is low-season (and recession) the place was pretty quiet. Me and Corinne watched an amazing sunset followed by a lovely meal cooked by a women who was French... and from the same area as Corinne... and from the same town... and the same school. As they kept narrowing it down I was worried it was going to be reveled this woman was in fact the sister Corinne never new about...


On we went to Montezuma, a well known "hippie" town. We could both feel the love and peace envelope us as we sat down to have a vegan burger at "Organico". I knew this wasn't the place for Corinne when she noticed the sign "we are a smoking free community" in the street. "Well, I am a French individual" she resorted while lighting up her cigarette... As our stomachs struggled to digest the spiritulina enhanced tofu burgers, we both decided that Montezuma was best left to its hippies and to get out of there as early as possible in the morning. The plan of a long night of sound sleep was abruptly interrupted when we both flew out of bed as the lightning hit less than 100 meters away. Me and Corinne curled up like 2 characters from Scooby-doo as the vicious thunderstorm descended on us.

The thunderstorms here are like nothing I have ever experienced. I have always loved watching the lightning, counting the seconds until the rumbling of thunder arrives to figure out how far away it is. One of my early, fond memories is doing just that at my mother's father's summer house. This is something all together different... sort of like a Swedish summer storm on acid. 10ths of zigzag lights are illuminating the sky and there is NO time to count to see how far away they are... the bungalow is shaking and your eardrums are threatening to burst as the thunder descends on you. Poor Frida actually pied herself the other night and I wasn't far off doing the same.

The return to Hermosa was a joyous moment. Not only was I delighted to see the swell again (no waves in Montezuma) but Wendy and Alvaro introduced me to Juan for the first time. Talk about love at first sight! Made by hand just for me under Alvaro's watchful eye and I can't wait to feel the thrill of him dropping in to the wave under me. He has to stay dry for a couple of more weeks though while the moulding settles and in the meantime, hard-core training is what is on the menu for me. It is actually kind of a miracle that I am even able to type this blog given I can't feel my arms.....

Thirteenth Blog - Nappy rash

This marks the end of my second week in Costa Rica, and although I still feel like I have landed in paradise, I have reached the end of the "honeymoon period" and started noticing a few quirks about this place that is starting to irritate me...

1) For the first time in about 34 years (my parents will be able to narrow the exact timing down) I have a "nappy rash". It turns out sitting on a board in damp cloths is remarkably like wearing a diaper. It was a somewhat embarrassing conversation at the pharmacy, but I am now loaded up on Johnson's baby powder and Chlorphenoxamine hydrochloride...

2) To call what is leading up to my bungalow a "road" is like claiming Blackpool is England's answer to the French riviera.. it is just not true.

3) There isn't a levelled playing field between humans and biting insects here. I am hoping that somehow I will be recognised as a "local tica" among the mosquito community and get exempt from the assault that tends to happen as soon as night falls...

Given these are my only complaints so far, I think Costa Rica is a keeper though... Tomorrow I am off on a bit of a road trip with Corinne, so the blog will be back on Monday (and so will I..)

Twelfth Blog - The French mistress

My French friends Corinne and Tony were telling me about "the French woman" a few days ago at dinner. She has the ability to make her lovers feel like the most wonderful of men, she lavishes them with attention and passion that makes the man hunger for more, just to take it all away from him for no apparent reason at all. The man is left wondering what he did to deserve her cold shoulder and goes on a quest to give her anything she wants in the hope of getting back in her good books. Eventually she lets him back and the game continues back and forth, back and forth...... The ocean is my French mistress. She has the ability to make me feel like no other, lavishing me with wave after wave of perfect lefts and easing up on me when I need a break in the swell to paddle out. Other days when I get there she is unpredictable, throwing one break after another at me, just making it impossible to enjoy her company. I have been in the dog house for two long days now, but just like the Frenchman, I keep going back every day in the hope that I will be back in her good books....


Today it wasn't even worth getting in the ocean so Juanita and me were relegated to still- paddling in the swimming pool. It is one of my least favorite things but the thing I need the most. I still struggle to catch the bigger waves on my own and if I am ever going to give Juan a go when he arrives (the baby brother of Juanita, remember?!) I better strengthen up!

Eleventh Blog - Anna Calaveras

No-one has really asked what the heading of this blog means!? Well, I'll tell you anyway... It means the "skull surfer". This is because Juanita has these beautiful skulls painted around her boarder, and a cheeky one on the back that my friend sprayed on. Now she also has a skull on each fen! So Wendy and Alvaro started calling me Anna Calaveras and it sort of stuck. I like having a "stage name" :-)

The waves yesterday where tough to say the least! Choppy, fast and inconsistent. Everything you don't want when you are trying to paddle through the break. Titi, who is Wendy's 12 year old son and an accomplished surfer, took one look at it and decided to stay on the beach. I was very tempted to do the same but Alvaro encouraged me to have a go. I am so lucky to have him as my trainer. He pushes me to challenge myself and he has faith in my abilities when I sometimes waver.

The trick to get out is to never stop, and to never get off your board. Now that might sound easy enough in theory, but when a fast moving, breaking wave is heading your way your first instinct is to stop and jump off your board to dive under, not to paddle straight at it! The first 50 ft are always the hardest, but once you get further out there are less waves breaking (although the ones that do are bigger) and you can get lucky and get a clear passage in between sets.

Something that use to terrify me but I have lately come to enjoy is when a "freak wave" comes my way. To catch a wave, you sit at the point just before most waves are breaking, but because no one wave is the same, every now and again a freak one will start building that is bigger than the rest and therefore will break further out (and over you if you don't get moving). That is when pure fear becomes your friend as you throw yourself down on the board and paddle for life to try and get over it before it breaks. In these cases you really need to know if you are about to win or loose the fight... There is a moment when the wave is just breaking and you are half way up it but you realise you are not going to make it over, when you can jump off your board and literally dive right through the wave. You can feel the power of the break above and behind you but where you are it is calm and quiet. So awesome!

Today the rain is hammerig down and surfing is not on the cards, but a new day beckons tomorrow and hopefully me, Bob and Juanita will go to the beach again, just like on the photo!

Tenth Blog - Pura Vida

I am starting to get to know the locals and expats here in Hermosa. I really enjoy being part of a smaller community where you always bump in to someone you know. I also really love the casual way people socialise here. No "lets have a drink Wednesday 2 weeks from now" or "I don't have a Saturday free for the next 3 months". Here people just drop by your house when they feel like it. People have time, there is no rush and the only urgency that exists is that of having to paddle for all that you are worth when a freak wave comes your way while surfing. The Costa Rican's call it "Pura Vida"; the pure life.

I have thought a lot about fear over the past few days. God knows I have been forced to face it many times lately. There is something amazing about the feeling of pure fear. This is the kind of fear that calls on all your natural instincts to kick in, that fills your body with adrenaline and that makes you act and achieve things you did not think yourself capable of. The pure fear is the fear of dying and it is one to treasure. As cliche as it sounds though, most peoples biggest fear is the fear of living. That is the kind of "abstract" fear that prevents you from acting. The fear of being inadequate, fear of uncertainty, the fear of fear itself. Fear that turns in to stress because the body doesn't know what to do with the adrenaline it creates. Fear is one of the most basic, natural feelings we have. It is an emotion indispensable for survival. I don't want the abstract fear to prevent me from living, I want the pure fear to keep me alive as I live life to the full!!

Now this amateur philosopher is off to live a little... waves promising plenty of fear today :-)

Stay hungry. Stay foolish.