Perspective - A dish best served cold.

The coarse putty colored fir tree’s tower over me with Zen like calmness. I gratefully stumble down the cold sand to Tofino’s main surfing beach. The drive from Victoria was a little over fours hours and it is a relief to finally have my first glimpse of surfing this far north in the world. The beach is about as different as a beach can be from Byron. Massive bark-free logs lie scattered before me like a party of naked and unconscious drunks. The ocean has a tinge of grey to it and the waves appear to be breaking a little slower and softer than they should be – as though the cold has slowed the oceans blood. It is beautiful. I feel as far from home as possible, ecstatic to be experiencing another page in mother oceans vast picture book.

I get down to the waters edge - It doesn’t look ‘that’ cold I think to myself. No sooner has the thought crossed my mind that the first rush of tide hits my bare shins and it is instantly paralyzing. I regret forsaking the booties in my packing for the sake of my vanity

I decide to trust in the quality of my wetsuit and my body heat to see me through and I persist through the breakers. Each wave feels like, crushed ice being swept over a pool by a gigantic broom. After a while I start to warm up a little and any reservations I have about my comfort is forgotten by my first wave. Weaving some turns and getting to the nose, on my hired long board feels great. I am not so far from home at all.

If I was back in the style conscious surf mecca of Byron, things would be different. I am sure I would feel like a bit of a ‘kook’ riding a board with a bright green ‘Pacific Beach Hire” branded onto the deck. When I left oz I hadn’t been willing to let Air China steal another two hundred dollars off me in excess baggage fees, so for now its beggars can’t be choosers.

It is only when you leave surf-saturated town like Byron you begin to appreciate how enjoyable it is to be riding any waves, no matter the quality or your comfort. I had left Byron after a two-month surf feast, the waves had been so consistent and of such quality that there was more than once I had turned my nose up at head high surf. I had been spoiled to the point that a tube ride was instantly categorized and compared to the ones before it. I was a fat toddler sitting on a mountain of candy and I didn’t know which way to roll. Here I was though reveling in two-foot mush, like I had discovered the Forbidden City. Perspective it seems is a dish best served cold.

Danny in Canada part 1

So we pick this story up somewhere in the middle of the plot. The lead character has had an epiphany, he has been around the world and back and fallen in love, his love has come to him and spent the summer in his town. Life has been good - a summer in Byron of beaches and beers at the ‘beachie’. If only it could last forever…the days grow colder, a visa expires and a girl returns home. The boy sits and stares at her beautiful face illuminated on the LCD screen of his computer, her image pixellating and cutting out mid sentence. This is no way for two lovers to love. A ticket is booked and the Byron bubble is burst once again. Our character is in Canada for the summer, on Vancouver Island and he has some stories to tell.

June 15, 2011

Victoria, Vancouver Island

I arrived on Vancouver Island three days ago to reconnect with my Canadian girlfriend and pick up the pieces of a long distance relationship that was going pear shaped quickly. Of course I could hardly afford to be making the trip and my credit card was still bearing the brunt of last years impulsive international adventure. Aptly enough the culmination of which was the birth of the current relationship. It made sense that the investment already made should not go to waste

What I have noticed interestingly about this trip is the suddenness with my first real bout of homesickness has set in. When you have traveled enough I suppose it becomes ingrained in you the instant you tuck yourself in to an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room (even if you are lucky enough to have your nose nuzzled into a familiar shoulder and be inhaling a familiar scent) that you are far from home and everything is different.

It’s now 2.30 AM and sleep was short lived. I am scouring the Internet for a free stream of the State of Origin game 2. The maroons are expected to take an unprecedented 6^th straight victory. Mentally I am teleporting myself back to the frothing sweating humanity currently gathered in watering holes all over Byron and preparing for battle. My jet lag is still at the chronic stage and proving to be very beneficial when staying awake at the silly hours. I finally find a free site and settle in for the soothing tones of commentator Ray Rabbit Warren.

Rugby league is not such a big deal in Canada and over here everyone’s attention is on an event over 12 hours from now involving the 10 men in ice skates, using a small round piece of hard rubber as an excuse to beat the crap out of each other. Vancouver is in the final of the Stanley Cup the penultimate game of Ice hockey. It will result in a loss and massive riots all over the city - police cars will be flipped and burned, the opposing team fans will beaten to a bloody pulp for having audacity to be from a city with a slightly better team and the city will be left shamed and broken.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_JJ4eReHvSE

Even though New South Wales will win this game, in a few weeks time Queensland will most likely win the series for the sixth year in a row. The reactions by the New South Welshman in bars around Byron? Most likely will be a few drops of spilled beer and some coarse language. No doubt there is some co-relation between the quality of life of a sports fan and their reaction to their team losing. Sport is entertainment and not a reason for living in Australia.