The Taste Of A Dream

After arriving the night before at about 11pm from a wild two days in Madrid, and straight into some sangria and no sleep, I stepped out on to the street again at 6 am which was now Sunday morning. A warm breeze blew through the air that gave me a weird chill through my body and this euphoric feeling. The streets looked as if a tornado ran through and trashed the place with broken bottles, cans, cups, cigarettes, and any other items drunken bar hoppers leave behind. I got to a corner and started watching the zombie like people roaming around on the hunt for another after hours disco. My body was feeling like sleep after the last 72 hours of traveling, partying, exploring, and experiences that have changed my life, it was a surreal feeling, but my mind was thinking that I didn’t travel half way around the world to find my dreams and fantasies while laying on a pillow. I thought to myself that I just needed a cup of coffee to start the day, and keep going because I could end up having the time of my life.

As I stood there, I knew that communicating was almost not possible with my fucked Spanish and the intoxicated people. A group of four stragglers came up to me and randomly started mumbling about how they are Spanish skinheads and love the movie American History X. I started laughing and told them that is the town I was from. They started playing Metallica and Suicidal Tendencies on their phone as gibberish came from our mouths. It’s now about 6:35, when a small white car pulls, and I got in. We drove down the highway of darkness until we took an exit onto a darker winding road. We pulled up into this parking lot where we got out and walked to the edge of a cliff where there was a church looking over a large river mouth and a nook in the side of the cliff that had a dozen little boats. I looked out, the wind blew against my back and up my neck as a perfect 4-6 peak arose with a left that pealed perfectly with not a drop of water out of place for hundreds of meters all the way into the river. It gave me the tingling sensation that I can only compare to as when a women has breathed on my neck and whispers in my ear something that flows through body of pure intimacy. My new friend Miguel looked over at me “That’s Mundaka!” I was in awe looking at a wave I had only dreamed of surfing since I was child, and thought about battling on the Kelly Slater Video Game with my best friend and childhood sparring Jamie Meistrel, and saying to each other that we will one day surf all these waves. It was still dark out as I walked to the edge where I have seen from magazines to movies to live webcast of every pro in history get thrown off after they win the event there. I had a moment and think I even pissed myself, oh wait that was probably because it was cold and I’m a surfer. I put my foot onto the last step as the cold water hit my foot I knew that my fantasy of this place had come true. We were the first guys in the still slightly dark lineup. Next thing I know the horizon lifted up in front of my eyes, I whipped my board around as the whole wave jacked up while I bottom turned on this perfect wave, and I will tell you it seemed as I was going in slow motion. I pulled up into it and sat my ass and knee right up against the face as I watched the wave throw over me with the most perfectly round, but thick lip that I glance at smashing about two feet away from my rail. As I turned to view back out the of this tunnel and looked at Miguel as I passed him by. I immediately had this visual of Andy Irons in the Trilogy section when it shows the water angle of him sliding his ass against across this perfect tube. I kicked out and started paddling back out when I sat up on my board as I absorbed the fact I just got fucking barreled at Mundaka. I would’ve never guessed that the right was so sick either; it’s a quick slabby like bender that spits you right into the channel. I got a handful of rights because the guys would battle me deeper and instead of battling back I would just split it with them. They ended up laughing t me and actually took a few because I would get spat out and be right back in position for the next one. I surfed for another two hours until the wind came up and the tide shut it down. We headed back to San Sebastian where I couldn’t have summed up a better day than having the best burger in town and a beer at my friend Miguel’s Restaurant Hogar Dulce Hogar. I sat there eating thinking about my last 72 hours and how I have had out of my skin, but in my soul moments that I think will never forget. I had that amazing soul capturing watching the waves without surfing a few days ago, went to Lisbon for a day to explore, to Madrid where I met up for drinks with an old friend Heather and then partied all night. The part that really snatched my perception on who I am came to me as I was astray all day in the city of Madrid and stumbled upon a beautiful Botanical Garden. There, I would indulge into another spiritual moment surrounded by the peaceful melody, essence and sight of nature while the sun went down (which is another posting). As I left the garden in stride back in the dark to my hostel I had an epiphany. Why the fuck I was still in Madrid when I am a surfer from birth halfway around the world where one of the best waves on this planet is going to be good the next day, and I’m lost in a the middle of a city. We don’t have to guess what happen next because you just read it! I took the last sip of my beer, looked into outer space and exhaled with the words “Wow! What a fucking journey this has become?”







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