Travel = Freedom

As Christmas (or Chrissy as they say in Australia) approached I became quite the Grinch. Although I did not greet others with “bah humbug,” my body cringed when confronted with Christmas decorations or music. I was a world away from my family and friends in Canada, and did not want to attempt a recreation of a Canadian Christmas without them. The solution to my problem came in the form of a black and hot pink bus destined for Crescent Head, a remote town six hours outside of Sydney and home to Mojo Surf Camp.
We arrived late night, Christmas Eve and joined a campfire, complete with cold beer and boys softly strumming their guitars. My Grinch like sentiments evaporated as our drinks did in the hot summer air. The following morning we arose to a hearty breakfast, while Linton, our surf instructor gave us a tutorial on surfing. With our wetsuits clinging to our bodies we left for our first surf lesson, briskly walking, our feet left imprints on the otherwise vacant beach. The waves were our friends that day: possessing just enough force to get us ashore. When I got up for the first time, my whole body smiled as the joy of riding the wave rushed through me.
After a morning of surf, everyone returned to camp and could be found laying on the hammocks hung over the deck with tapping toes to the beat of their ipods, tanning on the lawn, or kicking a soccer ball around. Regardless of our mode of relaxation, we all shared the same curled smiles of contentment.
My last day surfing wasn't my best day to say the least. The waves were massive and just walking your board out was a battle against the ocean. Often, when the waves would push me back, it felt like a house was knocking me down. Later that morning, I was too far out and in the midst of strong currents, I wiped out and did about 4 or 5 “washing machines,” where the waves spin you around under water and you become disorientated in the sense that you can't distinguish up or down. As soon as I would come out of the water, grab my board and take a quick breath of air, another wave would come barreling towards me and begin yet another cycle of the washing machine. This lasted for what felt like ten minutes, and as terrifying as it was, I am happy now in hindsight to have had this experience. I think it has already made me far more cautious, and secondly, as scary as it was, it was pretty cool to experience the sheer power and unforgiving force of the ocean. It is experiences like this that put you in your place and remind you how small you are in a very big and powerful world.
I did not escape Christmas, but instead celebrated it in simplistic form: with new friends, campfires, and a new appreciation for the ocean.