Generation Gap Surfing in Bali
Dawn Breaks over Bali
Six hours earlier, the noise of waves crashing ashore had woken me from a deep sleep. Mounting excitement propelled me from the bed when I realised from the volume of sound that the waves were substantial. It was still dark, but I knew that I could catch the dawn from my suf-board if I left immediately. A while later I was several hundred metres out to sea, battling my way further out and, between soakings, watching the dawn paint the sky from a celestial palette of pinks, yellows and crimsons. I was totally alone and knew that this was not safe or sensible, but I did not care. I felt that my daring to be there gave me a kind of spiritual ownership of the place and that this feeling more than compensated me for my almost complete lack of other worldly possessions – the most valuable of which I had with me, my board. I usually love my board, but sometimes I blame it when I fall off and swear at it big-time. One of the reasons I love my surf-board is that, after I’ve blamed it for my shortcomings and sworn at it, it never holds it against me or sulks in any way. I can just jump on and ride away, as though nothing had happened.
I am now having lunch with my Dad, who has flown in from Perth, en route to a business meeting in Tokyo, to see me and presumably to try and coax me into his company – or any company at all, provided it’s not the company of surfers. He’s not had much luck at this task. Six months ago, when I was having a blast, neglecting my university studies in favour of chasing Perth surf, he tried pleading that I should pack in surfing as my Mum was worried sick that I might be eaten by a shark. This happens to a fair few surfers down-under. I felt a bit sorry for both my parents when their plan rather back-fired on them: I agreed that it wasn’t safe, quit uni and came surfing here instead. I just hope he hasn’t heard about the surfer who washed up here drowned the other month. I think a blow on the head from his board after a major wipe-out was probably the cause. I’ll probably not make an old corpse myself, but I don’t care. My Dad’s hotel, the Maya Ubud, is quite a contrast to mine. It looks like a palace compared to my lodgings, but then so does everywhere. I look again and realise that I’m not doing the Maya Ubud justice by including it with ‘everywhere’; it really is tastefully and typically Balinese, whereas mine is about as basic as you can imagine – thin mattress, fly-sheet, fan, shared cold shower.
My Dad asks me what I think of the Maya Ubud.
“It’s lovely, Dad, exquisite”.
“Wouldn’t you like to be able to afford to stay here?”
“Not really, Dad. I think that right now, at this very moment, I’m enjoying being here more than you are, because you’re used to staying in these places, whereas for me to come here and eat this fab food is a really special experience”.
I suddenly remembered that Dad gets offended when I put his values down that bluntly. I had been talking to him just as though he were one of my surf buddies. To try to make amends I quickly added “I really appreciate your coming all this way to spoil me, but honestly there’s nothing I need that I don’t already have. I really enjoy my life here. Better than that, I love my life here, because I always live in the present. Everybody knows that living in the present is the key to contentment.”
“Son, if you live in the present you’ll never achieve anything in life. In order to achieve things it’s necessary sometimes to dwell on the past and worry about the future”. I had to disagree. “I’m sorry, Dad, but I totally disagree .There’s no intrinsic meaning in achieving anything anyway, so why should I bother? I might as well live in the present and be as content as possible.”
This isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation. My parents are so cool about my complete rejection of their value system, I really respect them, not just for their attitude about this issue, but also for all they’ve done for me in the past. Actually, there is one source of intrinsic meaning in my life - she’s called Jenny and she’s from California. In order to go and be with her in the States, I’ve realised that I’m going to need to go back to Oz and get some money together. So I discuss this with my Dad, who’s delighted.
“I wasn’t so different from you when I was your age” he said.
“Not quite so idle, but not far off it” he continued. “In those days there wasn’t a sub-culture of idleness, so people who wanted to laze about had to laze about with low-lifes. The problem these days is that civilized young blokes like you can laze about with other decent young people, so it’s much more enjoyable. “
“Your mother’s more worried about you than I am. I reckon that you’ll get bored rigid with this sooner or later. Besides, you said you were doing this to reject meaninglessness, but your life of pleasing yourself has got to be the most meaningless life imaginable. I stopped idling around when I set up home with your mother. I spent over a decade in jobs that were often rather dull, but it never really bothered me, because I knew exactly why I was doing it, I had all the meaning I could possibly have in my life, in providing for you and your sisters. So I’m not too worried, I reckon what you need is to really fall for some woman, then start imagining what you could do to make her as happy as you possibly can.”
After Bali, why not visit one of Thailsnd's currently best three beach destinations:
Koh Lao Liang: http://www.andamanadventures.com/kohlaoliang.shtml
Ao Nang: http://www.andamanadventures.com/ao_nang.shtml
Railay/Tonsai: http://www.andamanadventures.com/railay-tonsai.shtml
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About the Author
Runs Andaman Sky Co., Ltd, specialising in climbing and diving trips to Thailand’s best beach destinations.
THAI LAO SONG=JOB JOI=ma yung jow waw sao ka bau pen.DAT
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