Well, one of us does. As you may recall, our time in Seminyak revolved mainly around flopping on the beach. Alas, Craig can only tolerate sunbathing for so long and so he decided that we would learn to surf in Seminyak.
On one of his afternoon strolls down the vast beach that links Kuta to Seminyak, he found us a surfing lesson with two enthusiastic chaps for a mere £10 each.
To say I hated every moment would be putting it mildly. Learning to surf is rather like being taught by an aggressively competitive parent who clips you round the ear if you don’t grasp things immediately. Every mistake rewarded me with a surfboard to the head, a face full of sea water or (if I was really lucky) a full tow by my ankle through the waves to the shore by way of the sea bed.
My (possibly not teacher-trained) tutor patiently explained after each failed attempt that “all” I had to do was stand up when the wave took me, which is a bit like teaching someone to ski by telling them they “just” go downhill; I understood the aim perfectly but executing it was less easy.
This frustrating hour (end result: one successful “surf”, two skinned knees and about 8 gallons of seawater swallowed) was made all the more irritating when I looked over at Craig, who sailed past me riding the crest of a wave. He was a bloody natural.
I coped maturely with being dethroned from my usual “most enthusiastic learner” title by concluding that stupid surfing was a stupid sport for stupid people who still used “dude” as part of their routine vocabulary. Bitter? Moi?
Craig, on the other hand, can’t wait to try it again. I may have even heard him tell the surf instructer “thanks, dude”…