I decided to go for a bit of a swim on my first day. The tide was high and the sun was shinning, so it seemed like a good time. I realized right away that one cannot simply stand on the edge of the beach here. If you stand in the water up to your calves, the undertow from the receding waves will actually pull rocks, coconuts, palm branches, and various debris and send them smashing into the back of your legs. There was more than one time when I almost fell as a big rock or coconut came crashing into my legs with the receding waves. So after a few minutes, I went all in to temp the fates. Almost immediately, a giant wave knocked me in the head and sent me around in two complete circles underwater before smashing my face against the sand. I quickly learned to duck the waves to avoid their abusive tyranny. After a few more minutes, I noticed that I was actually quite a ways out to sea; much further than I intended to be. There was a local El Salvadorian man watching me on the beach with some concern. I decided then to make my way in while the opportunity was still there. I learned to ride the big waves in, but the undertow from the receding waves was too much, and I was invariably pushed back out. After several minutes of back and forth with the waves, I made a little progress and managed to get close to the shore. When then undertow came, I swam as hard as I could and actually hurled myself out of the water for a moment in order to escape the powerful force. I then rode the next wave half way back up the beach and raced up as fast as possible to avoid the undertow. As I emerged form the surf, everyone on the beach clapped. The locals here apparently have enough sense not to go bathing in this stuff.
I was on the beach for a total of three days. I got to meet a lot of surfers, but decided after my experience in the ocean that I was not a good enough swimmer to seriously take up surfing. There is always a lot of talk at any surf beach about whom the “real surfers” are and who the hangers on or "posers" are. I thought about this question while in El Salvador. These were all clearly "real" surfers that could swim in surf with the fury of God without fear. So how do you tell a “real surfer” from a “poser”? It is all about how you can carry yourself with your shirt off. "Real surfers" have an innate ability to look completely natural and congruent doing almost any activity with their shirts off. They go out to dinner with their shirts off, conduct business, clean the house, speak to their Mothers. If one can do all of this with their shirt off, and still look natural, then they are a "real surfer". I tried it for a while. I went down to the patio in my hotel, sat in a hammock reading, cooked my dinner and talked with the other guests; all with me shirt off. But when some of the young hotel maids came to clean the rooms, I started to loose my nerve. I didn’t feel comfortable being mostly naked in front of the very young and conservative El Salvadorian women. I was concerned that my nakedness might offend them. I watched the other men with their shirts off while meeting with their accountants and realized what is already very obvious: I will never be a "real surfer".
