Nicolas

I knew this blog is all out of order, it´s a result of irregular internet access, poor knowledge of the time-space continuum and the fact that I am writing everything backwards. On our first full day in Montañita, it was decided that a surfboard must be procured. Our visit to one of the several local surf shops yielded a lithe swedish vixen, eager to give her advice and sell Ben a board, however our friend wasn´t biting. Luckily a local drunkard, or borracho, sitting just next to the surf shop came to the rescue.

It was around 11 am, yet this man had the stench of a long morning of cerveza already upon him. He offered us an abundance of ´hang loose´ hand signs and high-fives. Beside him lay a small surfboard, which he was eager to show us. Ben gave it a once over, inspecting it for whatever one inspects a surf board for. Nicolas claimed he was the nephew of the shaper, and that Tio Waly Waller was a big name in Lima. Nicolas made an offer of one hundered euros. He then demonstrated how well one could surf with this board using a variety of whooshing ocean sounds and bringing his arms to his side and waving them like a bird. We were impressed. He asked us for a second time where we were from.`France´, Ben replied for the both of us, quickly cutting me off before I told him that I hailed from America, lest the price of the board increase. Finally Ben told him that the board pleased him, and, barring a test for seaworthiness, he would take it. Nicolas responded with a whooshing noise and an off-balance wave. He would accompany us to the ocean for the test surf.

It should be noted that I rented a longboard as well, with the intention of flopping around for a while and swallowing some sea water. Away we went to the beach, Nicolas in tow, still whooshing and asking us where we were from. As we neared the water, ben gave me some final instructions for not drowning, and lifting myself from my belly to my knees, as if this would ever happen. Meanwhile, Nicolas continued to interrupt drunkenly, informing us that he was a a qualified surf instructor, then making the whooshing noise and flailing in demonstration of his skills. It was at this time that he called me ´chunky´, as I recall. We laughed, then surfed. The board met ben´s qualifications, and we set off in search of Nicolas, to complete the transaction.

We found him sitting in a bar across from where we had met him, slurring his speech and conversing with some scared looking Germans over a beer. He had my shirt with him and thank god, because it spared me the indignity of walking through the village half naked. Ben made his counter offer of ´nothing, not even the fee for the gaming commision´, and the two settled on 90 dollars and a final hang loose sound. It was the last we ever heard from Nicolas, but sometimes we still hear the wind whispering ´whoosh´.