While walking on the Puerto Escondido beach as the sun turned red, I passed a young Italian with a surfboard. He had just taken his first surfing lesson...
"In these waters?" I asked. "But this is where people drown!"
"Oh my teacher is excellent! Really good! Yes!"
"Yes? But he chose these waters for you... And you a beginner!" The last time I stopped along this beach, a crowd surrounded a cadaver of a man who had "tripped" in the current...
"It was totally safe! Of course, my teacher had a little accident."
"Accident?"
"He sliced his foot open with the blade of the surfboard..."
"Wow! Your own! Did your board go out of control?" After all, a beginner is dangerous.
"No, his own! He got caught in wave. Come, let me introduce you."
So we walked as the sun set barefoot to a surf shop where Riccardo, bearded and hairy chested, came out and said he could not give me lessons for a couple days, as... he pointed... he had sliced his foot. He pointed to a strong black line of blood that cut under his sole.
Mentioning he had a daughter, I asked, "And does she surf?"
"Well no," he said. "She took a fright at her first lesson, and never surfed again."
"Why?"
"Her board slipped from under her and went over a boy, and sliced his head open, and the blood was everywhere. So she never wanted to surf again. She was only nine, you know."
"Oh," I said. "Let me take your card..."
Choosing a Safe Surf Instructor
Choosing a Safe Surf Instructor
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