A Bowl of Stupid

A few quick notes:

First, for anyone interested, I just posted new pictures up on my Flickr page from my trip last month to Krui, Sumatra, Indonesia. Feel Free to take a look.

Second, I leave Bangkok again tonight for another month of surfing back down in Rote, Timur, Indonesia. I am, like usual, excited about the upcoming trip — especially considering the surf down there has been absolutely EXCEPTIONAL in the past couple weeks, and they expect it to continue (double overhead, 5-10 knot offshore trade winds, and simply perfect).

Unlike usual, however, I am also contemplating getting a JOB here in Bangkok when I finish my summer in the Philippines, Micronesia, and elsewhere in the Pacific.

Yeah, I said it! Whatcha gonna do?

Seriously, I like Bangkok THAT much, and I'm actually thinking about going back to work — if only to sharpen back up my intellectual skills (or what's left of them). I've spoken to a couple friends here, and there are several interesting possibilities that do NOT include the practice of law. I enjoy living in Bangkok more than any place else I've lived for a while … so it just kinda makes sense (in a strange, capitalistic kinda way).

But September is a long way off … so we'll just have to see how it unfolds.

Finally, before I go incommunicado for a few weeks, I wanted to leave you guys with this thought:

Although living in Bangkok is awesome, there will obviously always be cultural issues that plague any American or European visitors.

The non-Latin language and script is the most obvious issue. However, there are a plethora of other differences — some gross, some sublime — that also invade my everyday life here in Bangkok and make me remember that I'm an ex-pat living in an entirely foreign culture.

For example, why do Thais maintain fastidiously clean floors (clean enough to eat off of), while letting immediately adjacent walls fall into baffling levels of disrepair?

And why do Thais have such (well known) open and accepting views on sexual preferences and skimpy clothing, yet still maintain such ridged views as to public bathing, such that it's frowned upon to go swimming in bikinis or any other type of revealing bathing suit fashioned any time after the Eisenhower administration?

Yet these issues are, in large part, mere curiosities. They don't really affect my daily life, or the lives of anyone else I know. The only cultural difference that really bothers me, on a daily basis, is the ridiculous show of deference and politeness shown by Thais to foreigners ('falangs').

This gets tiring … FAST.

Consider when you go out to eat (or go out anywhere, really) back in the States — there's a general understanding that, although you're the customer, the staff generally knows more than you do about how best to service your needs in the absence of any orders to the contrary (e.g., if you don't say anything, it's safe to say that you'll get your steak back 'medium' to 'medium-rare').

In Bangkok, however, you will instead get a waitress coming over every 2 minutes asking how you want your potatoes done, how hot you like your chili sauce, how well done you want your meat … and so on, and on, and on, and on.

Similarly, I went to get a haircut the other day, but eventually gave up on the whole thing after the barber refused to cut off any more that 1-2 millimeters at a time for fear of offending me. After an hour of this, I could barely tell that I'd been to the barber at all. Regardless, I still had to leave for fear that I would lose my shit, pull a Wayne Brady, and wind up choking the bitch.

Asking directions is also a big no-no here in Bangkok. Not because nobody will tell, but instead, they will try TOO hard. Inevitably, no matter whether or not the person you ask knows where you're going, they will simply agree with any directions you may suggest, point to, or show on a map — for fear of offending you, or telling you that they can't help you.

It really is like NYC in reverse. And like I said, it gets kinda tiring after a while.

Just once … ONCE … I want to go into a restaurant or a coffee shop — or anywhere!! — and have the wait staff ignore me, and spit in my food, and generally treat me like a piece of shit like they used to do back in New York and Miami and Philly. Just once — to let me know they're alive!

Alrighty then … I needed to get that off my chest … thanks, I feel better now. I'll see you guys in June. Peace out.

Share This

2

Not really much to write about at the present. I'm just enjoying my stay here in Bangkok before leaving again back for Rote, Indonesia in three (3) days.

I've said it before and I'll say it again — Bangkok really is a great town. But it also has a tendency to drain money from your wallet at an alarming rate (and this is coming from an ex-pat who's living here — I can only imagine how much money all the tourist 'falangs' are forking out while here on holiday).

Just today, I bought a new rice cooker, a French drip coffee pot, and new headphones for my iPod. This is in addition to the books and DVD's I bought to take with me to Rote, as well as all the movies I've been seeing (including the new 'Speed Racer' movie … which sucked on too many levels to discuss right now without suffering a cerebral hemorrhage), and the new clothes, and the yoga classes, and the coffees, and the lunches, and the dinners, and the nightclubs.

It's kinda like Miami — it's so good it's bad.

Thankfully, I had the foresight to plan ahead — like I said, I leave again in 3 days. I really need to get out of this town and back to the peace and quiet of Indonesia before I go broke … or wind up marrying a Thai hooker, whichever comes first.

Okay, I'm off to go play poker with a bunch of Swedes — dammit, there's another 1000 baht I'll never see again.

Share This

(Rote, Indonesia — August 2007)

If it hasn't been made abundantly clear by now, I absolutely LOVE Bangkok. Love. It.

My friends here, the food here, the music, the shopping, the … well, everything — it's just a great place. At times, it reminds me so much of NYC that it's ridiculous (except for the cost of living … which, although nominal, is still high by Thai standards).

So, for anyone who has the opportunity, I highly recommend both visiting and/or living here (at least for some time, if at all possible).

That being said, there is still no surfing to be done in Bangkok. Or the rest of Thailand, for that matter (and to those people who say there's 'surfing' in Phuket, I would respectfully disagree … STRONGLY. Really, saying that you can go surfing in Phuket is like saying you can drive a car with your feet — sure, you could do it, but it don't make it a good fucking idea).

So, despite everything, I just made plans for another month-long surf trip down to Indonesia in a couple of weeks.

This time I'm returning to Rote, Timur — the place in the above picture, where I spent a month last August. Although not perfect, it's the closest place to it that I've found so far — small (or at least only intermittent) crowds, consistent and great (if not 'world class') surf, no electricity, no running water, and cheap as anything else to be found in Indonesia. Best of all, it's located in a small, stable fishing village with local peoples still relatively unbesmirched by the lure of plentiful tourists and their 'easy-money.'

So, despite a long, fun (and ultimately debilitating) night out clubbing at "BED" and "The Supper Club" on Friday night, I'm still nowhere NEAR my fill of all that Bangkok has to offer. But give it a couple more weeks … I'm betting I'll be ready for the tranquility of another island out in the middle of nowhere … or at least, I hope so.

Share This

Yes, even perfection can get tiresome when not taken in moderation.

I honestly don't know how those professional surfers (and many amateurs) can stay in the water surfing for 6, 7 or even 8 hours a day for weeks on end. Luckily, I had a some great quality time here in the water with absolutely fantastic conditions and a low body count in the water (pictures to come).

But after a couple of weeks going out for several hours a day, my shoulders were constantly aching from all the paddling, my chest was (and still is) bruised from laying on the board so much, and I was just generally waterlogged.

So I hitched a ride with Andy (the owner of the Karang Nyimbor Hotel) to Bandar Lampung for some shopping, to get money from a working ATM machine (which I did), and to simply take a break from paradise for a couple days.

The morning we left, I went out for a quick paddle, hoping to get a few good waves in the swell that came in overnight. It was great — I paddled out easily, missing the set waves, got to the lineup just in time for a set, caught a screamer for a few hundred meters, paddled back around and did the same thing twice more.

Total time in the water: about 10 minutes. It was short, but it was the most satisfying session I had in a week — much how I like my sex (for any hotties reading, I'm just kidding; for everyone else, yah, not so much).

Then we headed into town - a 4-5 hour drive one way, up and down and around the mountains of southern Sumatra. It's a beautiful place, hardly touched but for the occational coffee plantations, rice patties, or small mountain village.

Share This

I'm still here surfing in Krui, Sumatra. There have been a couple nice swells that pushed through, providing for some long and tiring sessions over the past week. Nothing much to report after that, other than that I continue to have a GREAT time - I continue to work on my surfing skills (never all that great to begin with, but getting better with each passing day, month, and year), and I got a pretty fucking sweet stand-up barrel this morning in the last of the latest swell.

It's days, weeks, and months like this that make me wonder how the hell ANYONE can sit behind a desk for 8-10 hours a day and still retain any semblance of his or her humanity.

Come out and play, you guys — you will NOT regret it.

Share This

As everyone knows, in ranking of importance with other major issues of the day — the 5 year anniversary of the U.S. invasion of Iraq, the U.S. Presidential race, and the Chinese crackdown on Nepalese protesters — right up there is the seemingly ceaseless debate as to whether or not women are funny. (Yeah, I know, apparently I've got this alternating feminist/misogynistic theme going this week, but I leave for Indonesia in 2 days and I'm trying to get in all my reading under the wire).

If you're not aware, Christopher Hitchens wrote an article on the subject last year, in the January 2007 issue of Vanity Fair magazine (cleverly entitled "Why Women Aren't Funny"). I'll give you 2 guesses to figure out his stance on the issue.

I'm not going to waste my time rehashing Hitchens' extraordinarily long-winded attempt to avoid having sex for the rest of his adult life. However, if you're interested in sacrificing an hour of your life you'll never get back, the original article, as well as a decent compilation of some of the more vocal 'responses' can be found HERE.

Now, more than a year after Hitchens wrote that staggering work of dribble, Vanity Fair has seen fit to resurrect the whole sordid affair by publishing in its latest (April 2008) issue a rebuttal by writer Allessandra Stanley.

Like the original, this new article — sporting the less-than-convincing title: "Who Says Women Aren’t Funny?") — is yet another piece of inspired comedic genius:

Dissecting the nature of women's humor, or supposed lack thereof, is a joyless and increasingly moot subject, but it boils down to the point Virginia Woolf argued in her essay about Shakespeare's sister in A Room of One's Own, and it's analogous to the case Larry Summers made so clumsily with regard to women in the sciences that it cost him his job as president of Harvard: namely, that society has different expectations for women. Summers sealed his fate by also suggesting that women's innate aptitude for science and math might be weaker. The nature-versus-nurture argument also extends to humor. It's a shame that Margaret Mead never made it to that tribe in Papua New Guinea where women tell the jokes, and men pretend to find them funny.

Virginia Wolfe? Margaret Meade? Papua New-Fucking Guinea?

Good grief, what in the name of everything holy is this broad even talking about?

I thought that articles about humour — especially one written by a woman arguing that women are funny — should at least be mildly amusing. That would be the reasonable approach, doncha' think?

Apparently not, since the only things to be learned from either of these two articles are that: (1) neither Hitchens nor Stanley will be headlining at the Improv any time soon; (2) Vanity Fair pays its contributors by the number of words used, not coherency; and (3) reading ANYTHING in Vanity Fair with the word 'funny' in the title will make your eyes bleed.

What the hell is going on over at Vanity Fair, anyway? I mean, if they're trying to piss off their readers, then by all means, I'm pretty sure there's a used 'Mission Accomplished' banner they can pick up on the cheap. But if, on the other hand, VF is trying to publish some funny and engaging articles about contemporary pop culture … yeah, not so much.

Share This

There's an interesting subtext — a conundrum — underlying this whole 'blogging' business.

For me, blogging began as an attempt to capitalize on my interest in the Internet (read: 'computer geek') — through the use of online advertising and retail. That idea went the way of the dodo when I made the decision to abandon the capitalistic American existence for a few years, in favor of a more simplistic life in the tropics of Southeast Asia.

At that point, blogging essentially morphed into nothing more than an easy way to memorialize my trip — physically and emotionally — and maybe make available some information about the places I'm visiting, mainly for myself, my friends and family, and anyone else with an Internet connection and a shit-load of free time on their hands.

Unknowingly (and unintentionally), this blog has also become useful in another way. When meeting people abroad, rather than handling out my phone number, email address, or other typical contact information, it's infinitely easier to write or tell people to look up my website.

In my case, I'm not sure if they feel it's an accurate description of me (the most likely scenario) or what, but the name of this blog tends to stick in peoples heads like a dull butter knife.

This is obviously a good thing. It's easily allowed me to maintain contact with people I've met from all around the globe (most of them Swedish, for some god-forsaken reason). However, it also allows a greater, albeit not complete, view of my persona to people who may not otherwise get an unfettered glimpse of my full persona until later on into a friendship.

It is for that reason more than any other that I've changed how I write this blog.

Before I revealed my true identity (yes, I am a fuckin' superhero - so shaddap) and started using this site as my own 'Universal Business Card' ("Call me!"), I tended to write bitter and scathing posts about politics, pop culture, celebrities, and a number of other divisive issues.

But I've since tried to tone down the content of this blog, so as not to offend any of the people I've met, or may meet, either with different views than mine or otherwise infected by the 'politically correctness' dictating the terms of conversations with people from the States and Europe.

Indeed, I've already had one acquaintance ask me, upon reading this site, why I hated India (and Indians) so much. After pointing out the dirty hippy's and the innumerable burning trash heaps, as well as the debilitating viral infection I picked up there, I found myself apologizing (and feeling guilty for appearing as yet another Eurocentric racist). The same goes for many other issues, as well — even music.

In trying to tone down my vacuously sardonic sense of humour (admittedly, a humour that quickly wears thin and most persons with an IQ greater than 70 don't understand to begin with), I've wound up unintentionally offending, and being overly-apologetic towards, more people than I otherwise would, because I've unknowingly disregarded their political sensitivities — both online and in the real world.

Who knows, maybe I've just been hanging out with too many Ozzies. Whatever.

While talking the other night with a friend (coincidentally, yet another Swede — I swear, they're everywhere), we got to the whole topic of maintaining a blog. Somewhere during the course of the conversation, I remembered how the word 'blog' is the shortened version of the term 'web log' — as in a personal log … about your personal ideas, experiences, and relations.

In that regard, unless they're selling something (ahem), if someone feels comfortable enough to post all their personal shit online anyway, what's the point in censoring material to possibly placate the sensibilities of people who won't understand the verse, or the underlying motivations. Admittedly, we do not live in a vacuum, and it's simply good manners not to knowingly offend people — 'do unto others' and all that.

I agree with that sentiment entirely, and I sincerely try to live my life in that manner. But there are limits — especially in the context of writing your personal thoughts vis a vis a semi-private forum on the Internet.

With that said, I will say this one more time for anyone paying attention — I've got some fucked up personal views, I live a different kind of life than most, and I have some brash and (often times unfunny) humour. I know I'm not a racist, a misogynist, or an evil vapid soul (most nobody is, really). But I will apologize up front if anything I say may come across as offensive or insensitive.

I'm writing this shit for me as much as for you. So I will write how, when, and about, whatever-the-fuck I want. Just as I really don't know you, you really can't know me simply by reading the stupid, random shit I may throw up on some website from time to time.

I know I've raised this issue before in the past, whenever I lose track of why I'm even writing this shit. But once again, it's my fucking website, and I thought it was about time for another reminder.

P.S. This is the maid speaking.

Share This

Well now, I know it's fairly irrelevant considering I'm presently between careers and I'm not lacking for free time and everything, but this just sucks.

I just wasted the last 2 hours of my life writing a nice, long detailed post about some of the areas of Bangkok of interest to anyone who ever wishes to make it off the backpacker-tourist infested Thanon Khao San (Khao San Road), or otherwise escape from Bangkok's standard 'tourist' destinations.

Seriously, I spent all that time describing the Phyathai area of Bangkok where I'm currently living, and about the Sukhumvit area where most of the 'falang' ex-pats live, as well as some of the restaurants, bars, and coffeehouses in those and other areas I've been able to explore as an official 'ex-pat' resident.

But goddamn it if Wordpress didn't delete the shit before … no, not before, WHILE I was trying to save it.

So, for all of you who were honestly interested about getting around via the BTS line, and the unique Thai jazz scene up around Victory Monument, or finding a good local coffeehouse with free Wi-Fi, or about the best places for a private foot massage — y'all can just go lodge your complaints with the fuckers who designed this application.

Cuz I ain't rewriting that shit out again without a court order … or at least another 1-2 pots of coffee.

Share This

Nota Bene: I struggled with publicly posting this long and somewhat contemplative entry because I don't wish to convey to my friends, family, and/or other readers that I'm in any way depressed, because I'm not. To the contrary, I am settling in here in Bangkok quite nicely. However, I wrote this back in India to pass the time whilst confined to my hotel bed in the final throes of the Dengue Fever. I wasn't feeling quite as 'upbeat' then (although I was, ironically, listening to the same U2 song as in my last post). So I'm posting it, confident others will understand, as I do, that context is everything.

I honestly don't know where to begin, or where I'm going with, this post. I really don't. I'm still a bit fevered still, so I guess I'll just have to talk (or write) it through.

With so much time on my hands lately (see post re: Dengue Fever), after sifting through too many books and movies to even recall, I find myself now at a point where I can do nothing more than lay in bed, listen to my music, and think. It reminds me of how I used to pass the time when I was in high school.

Now, most of my thoughts rifle through memories of the people I've met, the places I've seen, and the things I've done throughout my adult life. For some reason, most of my thoughts begin by centralizing around old friends and past girlfriends.

I use them as 'indicators', since I immediately relate certain friends and girlfriends with different chapters of my life — my formative years, high school, college, law school, working in California, living and working in Miami, and — most recently — my travels abroad.

And then I get distracted, lost even, in recollections about the smaller subplots during those times that gave each of these larger chapters their own particular context and flavour — the different jobs, cities, friends, lovers, hobbies, movies, and music.

When I was younger, this 'meditative recollection" used to be a truly enjoyable exercise. It gave me the opportunity to recall some remarkable things I had otherwise forgotten. However, as I've grown older, it's become more and more difficult to keep track of the ever increasing number of chapters — with more and more characters and subplots lost to time. The difficultly lies not only in the loss of time, but in the accompanying melancholy that comes with the realization I can no longer fully recall people and things which at one time meant so much.

It is for this reason that, while I do not condone, I understand those people who, despite not properly 'fitting' with their friends, spouses, or loved ones, choose to maintain such limited connections simply because it allows such people a greater, more immediate connection with their past. Peripherally, it also helps to limit the number of 'chapters' in their life — possibly to a more manageable level. The less chapters, the less likelihood of remembering JUST how old you are, and JUST how far away those lost years are.

I could of course be wrong, I mean, what the hell do I know?

Fortunately or unfortunately, I am not one of those people. I'm much more demanding and restless. And while this allows me to meet a greater number of people and visit a wider range of places, there's only so much time to maintain friendships … and there's only a limited amount of space in my brain to remember all of those lost years and friends.

No, I'm not trying to recreate my youth. But yes, I do miss it. Very much so.

I miss my youthful exuberance. I miss knowing the better part of my life is yet to come — set out in front of me as a fateful mystery. I miss my old friends. I miss my old girlfriends (even the selfish bitchy ones … okay, maybe not them so much), I miss my old toys — the motorcycles, the cars, the surfboards, the snowboards. And I miss my old homes — the apartments, condos, and houses, and the cities, states, and countries. I miss them all.

And while I'm still glad I had the time to have experience all of those things and I still eagerly look towards the future, I simultaneously curse time for wrenching my past away from me — without my having even noticed.

So that's what I'm doing now — I'm sitting here awake at 3 a.m. in a half-fevered stupor in some shithole in India, listening to U2's "A Sort of Homecoming", trying to think about all the great places I'm heading this summer, but instead lamenting over all of the friendships, places, and experiences I've lost to time.

I know I can't return to those times. And I know I can't recreate as they once existed the close friendships I had before everyone got married, and divorced, and had kids, and got re-married, and moved, and got new jobs, etc., etc. And yes, I am thankful for all of those glorious memories from my past.

But goddamn it, I really wish I could, just for a moment, go back 20 years to that time when I could hang out in my room listening to "An Unforgettable Fire" with my friends dreaming about everything still to come, laid out before us as a glorious mystery.

This just isn't quite the same.

Share This

Since I left the USB cord to my camera in Singapore, I haven't been able to upload ANY pictures ever since I was in the Philippines in November. I'm returning to Singapore next week for a few days for a bit of 'rest and relaxation' (i.e., air conditioning and hot water), at which time I'll pick up the cord and upload my pictures from the past 3 months.

However, I will also have to buy a new camera since my old one just went tits up after I dropped it about 5 meters while rock climbing. Oops. Heh-heh, never saw THAT coming.

In the meantime, above is a picture taken on my computer showing the backdrop at the beautiful Railay Bay Resort here in Krabi, where I'm currently stealing borrowing free Wi/Fi. It's not THAT bad of a setting for late February, huh?

Happy winter everyone!!

Not much else to report other than I'm still trying to figure out where to go surfing for a couple months in March and April before heading back to the Philippines to meet up again with the royalty over there — right, princess?

I've been looking at the surf reports, and although it pains me to say this … Indonesia, and Bali specifically, is looking mighty, MIGHTY fine right about now. 4-6 waves with 12-15 second intervals, and 3-5 knot offshore winds. Pretty tempting, but I've still got the itch to head out into the Pacific for a bit — Micronesia, Tonga, or Palau, for example. Once again, pretty tempting.

Regardless, wherever I head, I'll make sure to bring some limes, just so I don't sink (Extra credit for picking up the reference).

Share This

(MC Hammer, on left, and one of his neo-hippie fashion disciples, on right)

First off, no … I don't have any actual pictures here from India to upload, since I lost the USB cord for my camera somewhere in the Philippines. Sorry.

Second off, I'm not sure I would want to put any pictures of the many, many MANY hippies roaming Kerala in their 'Hammeresque' Indian 'harem pants.' These pants are ostensibly used for yoga practice, but it seems that just about every Westerner here wears them at all times of the day, despite just how fucking silly they look.

It's a bit baffling, considering that even the hottest of girls can ruin all that beauty simply by wearing pants that make her look like she's wearing a big set of diapers. It's really hard to tell if someone's got a nice ass if she looks like she's carrying around a load of shit in her pants.

And if the cute girls can look absolutely awful in these things, imagine — really imagine — just how unappealing all the aging, new-age, hippie wannabes look in them. It's just …

just … wow.

I understand the concept of wearing comfortable clothing. Trust me, I haven't worn a pair of shoes or pants in months. It's hot and humid out and things can get hot and sticky (and stinky) really fast, so thongs (flip-flops) and shorts are obviously a necessity for maintaining any semblance of comfort (and dignity). That being said, I don't see how wearing a big bulky diaper can make one MORE comfortable in this heat and humidity. To the contrary, I'm guessing there's a bit of 'hippie chafing' going on right now.

In addition, apparently nobody has told these guys that parachute pants went out when Jim Carry and Jennifer Lopez were on 'In Living Color' and Micheal Jackson was still black (well … sorta). Even then, they looked silly … and MC Hammer could DANCE in them.

These hippies in their yoga-parachute pants, though? Who are they kidding. C'mon buddy, just put on a pair of fucking shorts. Please?

Seriously, I knew MC Hammer, and you sir, are no MC Hammer.

Share This

(My host in the Filos, Matt Jacka, and the rest of the 'crew' heading back from our boat trip to Daku Island)

UPDATE: For anyone interested in heading to Siargao, please let me know (feel free to contact me directly at the email address above); I can provide information on the variety of homestays, bungalows, and resorts in the area, depending on your price range - all of them run by really, really nice people.

I had been planning on putting up this post — the 'down low' on surfing the Philippines — for a long time now. Hell. I had most of it done while I was still surfing in the Philippines, but I got distracted from actually posting it by all the surfing and fun I was having. Admittedly, much of this info has been pilfered from other people, but you know what they say: 'good writers borrow, great writers steal."

Anyway, this type of 'down low' is usually a big 'no-no', as you want to keep as few people from finding out about your favorite surf breaks (less competition for waves). However, chances are that most of the people reading this dribble would never venture from the States simply to go surfing, let alone head to the Philippines. So, for anyone planning such a trip (snicker), and interested in learning about the great surf breaks in the Philippines … well, here ya' go. If you're planning on heading there in April-May, lemme know, I should be back there by then.

Siargao Island, an island in the southeast of the Philippines, is blessed with spectacular beaches and crystal clear waters in an idyllic tropical setting. Thankfully, it is also one of the very (read: only) places in the Philippines that gets consistently good surf coming in from the depths of the Pacific Ocean.

At Siargao, the sea bed drops to 500 meters, then to 1500 meters just a mile off Tuason Point and Tuason reef (where I saw the most incredible triple-overhaead left-hander I've ever seen in my life — EVER). Thirty miles from General Luna (GL), it's 10,000 meters deep (that's Mt. Everest plus another 3,000 feet). Typhoons in season pass GL from the northeast, which bring in even bigger waves from the deep water.

CLOUD 9
A barreling right hander that is the most well-known break but only one of the many surfing spots on Siargao Island. A short boat ride out in the lagoon beyond, can take you out to Rock Island, Stimpy's and a few more breaks, stretching right up the east coast to Pilar, Pacifico and Burgos. Just a short walk from Patrick’s is a great break called Cemetery named after the cemetery that is located right on the beach facing the break.

JACKING HORSE:
A jacking peak that explodes on to a shallow reef, then tapers off and then reforms on the inner reef, mainly breaks right, with a short left, good to surf at 2` to 7` foot, medium to high tide is about the best time to surf.

BOMBORA OR POO SHOOTER`S:
A fast barreling left that run along a reef then turn right and runs into deep water, best with no wind or a light south west breeze, It is in viewing distance from the beach. There is a right and left hander 150 m to the north of Poo Shooter`s where you can either paddle across from Jacking Horse or hire a boat.

STIMPY'S:
A first class left-hander that wraps around a small island into a cove. Fun under 4 foot, but becomes a lot harder breaking over that size but still perfect breaking. Great tube and will handle large swells. Accessible only by boat, but it's within viewing distance from the shore with binoculars.

TUESDAY ROCK:
An excellent right hander that peels and barrels for 200 yards off Rock Island. Best with no wind low to medium tide and can hold swells up to double over head. Accessible only by boat, viewing distance from shore with binoculars.

SHIFTY'S:
A right hand reef break just south of Pilar inside the river mouth of Pilar, near Santa Fe, best at low to medium tide, south to south west wind. Fun right hander at 2 to 4 foot but will hold larger swells.

PILAR LEFT HANDER'S:
There are 2 left breaks; one breaks in front of the wharf of Pilar and the other breaks close to the township of Pilar.

CARIDAD LEFT OR SUPERTUBES:
This awesome left barrel breaks on a jagged reef ledge, east to north east swell is the best, protected from north west to south west winds which are off shore.

PACIFICO:
A long barreling left a bit upcoast that breaks down and along a reef & rocky ledge.

TUASON POINT OR CLOUD BREAK:
A very hard breaking left that jumps up 200 yards off shore and comes in and runs down over a shallow rocky reef, with great big holes. This is a very powerful and hard breaking wave. Wave selection is crucial at this break, 4 foot and over is the best.

CEMETERY's:
A left and right that breaks between a gap in the reef, directly in front of the General Luna cemetery. Northeast to southeast swell is the best for this break with a southwest to west wind. Accessible by boat (or via a really long paddle), viewing distance from shore with binoculars.

DAKU ISLAND:
There are 2 right hand breaks, one at the top of the island and the other in the middle. They both like north to north east swell and south to south east winds. You can also find other breaks good for learners and body surfing.

PANSUKYAN REEF:
This needs a medium to large swell direct from the east to southeast with light, southwest to west wind. This wave looks like an up side down tear drop shaped barrel that runs down a reef. The wave jumps up out of the ocean from nowhere.

PARADISE:
Right of the Beaches in Union is a beautiful break – nice for beginners.

LA-JANOZA, MAM-ON, ANTOKON, ANAJAUAN ISLAND:
There are another 4 or 5 perfect breaks and many others around these islands. Mamon Island has a beach break that can give you rides of more than 150 meters.

Share This

With the exception of a few well place 'Frenchies' here and there, I've never been particularly fond of the French to begin with.

Admittedly, I was never one of those rabid folks (i.e., dumbass Americans) who started referring to my french fries as 'freedom fries'. However, I always found the air of superiority wafted out by the majority of the French — together with a considerable amount of body odor, as well — more than just a bit distasteful.

If it weren't for their considerable history of promptly surrendering to any (and all) of their neighboring countries on the continent, perhaps that attitute may be justified. As it is, however, I have more respect for the guys working the late shift at the local 7-11. Until I meet a thousand more guys like these two great blokes in the Philippines, my opinion stands. Sorry.

That opinion now seems even more justified after the run in (pun intended) I had yesterday with 3 of the biggest kooks — all French — that I've ever met in my life. Three Frenchies were out in the water yesterday hooting and hollaring (perhaps they were trying to surrender to the Sri Lankans), and just getting in everyone's way.

One of them sat right in front of me while I was up on a really nice wave, looking me in the eyes and doing nothin else to move or otherwise allow me to maintain my position on the wave. I had to ditch.

Another dropped in on me while I was up on waves, not once, not twice, but three times in only a 1 hour session. Fucker.

The third of the group (part 'trois' if you're counting in French, which I doubt, because if you're French, chances are you're off looking for someone to surrender to) ran right into me while I was in the whitewater paddling away from him so he could ride his wave in peace. But instead of riding the wave, he turned right towards me before realizing there was something in his way. Upon reaching that conclusion, he ditched his board, kicking it right at my head (perhaps he thought it the best way to surrender). I moved just in time for it to hit me square in my right calf, which is now sporting a huge muscle bruise.

No apologies, no nothing. He just paddled back out. Nice. Three more reasons for me to go out for some 'freedom fries.'

Post script: My foot is now pretty well healed up, with the exception of the 1 or 2 remaining smaller spikes that are now poppin out randoming like zits on the face of a rabid Hannah Montana fan. Thanks to all for the concern (read: horror).

And in response to Jayne's crazy question as to what body part I will injure next for my rapt (read: cold and bored) audience, I now have both an answer and a reason why: my right calf, and because some French kook with a surfboard ran into me out in the surf.

Share This