Surfing and Bembo's Near the Beach.

After a couple of weeks of blog silence, I’m writing again.  After our week-long vacation in the U.S., we’re finally home again.  That seems like such a strange thing to say. I suppose I should share the real reason I took this time to write.  The neighbors are having a party with loud music and it’s 3 a.m.

Yesterday, my family of five (my oldest daughter returned to stay with us for a couple of weeks) piled onto a bus and headed to Miraflores for an afternoon of activity.  While Middle and Youngest are still emotionally scarred from our adventures in Stranded, we braved the bus system yet again.

My oldest daughter wanted to surf, and of course Youngest was all for that.   We walked the last few blocks to the coastline, and descended roughly a half-million stone steps to the beach.  Lima is probably one of the few cities in the western hemisphere that has good waves 24/7/365, and a number of enterprising locals have built thriving businesses by offering surf lessons to tourists.

To my friends in the north – remember it’s almost winter here, because the seasons are reversed.  Add this to the fact that the current brings water straight up the coast from Antarctica, and it’s COLD.  For reference, it’s about a degree chillier than Greer Springs in Missouri.

Our regular company is Surf Peru, basically because they ambush us the second we step off the footbridge on the way to the beach.  Oldest and Youngest, with some assistance, got into their wetsuits, and I became about $45 lighter.  The price isn’t bad, but it seems to change with the seasons and perhaps how nicely we are dressed.  At least it includes the board, wetsuit, and one-on-one instruction.

After some discussion with my wife, we agreed to let Youngest solo, rather than riding a board tandem with her instructor as she had on the previous two occasions.  I pulled her off to the side, away from Mom, who had already bitten off two fingernails.

“You know you are going to suck saltwater.”  This was the prelude to my confidence-building discussion.  I promise it got better – I told her some gobbledy-gook about anything cool not being easy, and it might take her ten or fifteen tries to catch two or three good waves, but she should just keep trying.  I reminded her that the surfboard floats and if she got swept under, she should just find the cord tied to her ankle, and it would lead to the surface.

She reminded me a little bit of a professional boxer, getting advice from his coach.  She nodded at the end of each sentence, and I think a couple of times she said, “Got it.”

Once she hit the water, she paddled out a hundred yards and I don’t think she even looked back.  She raised her head up like a seal as she crested each wave on the way out.

The process works something like this:  An instructor, on his own board, will go out with the student, get them turned around and in position.  When a suitable wave comes along, the student paddles like crazy, and with a shove at the exact moment from the instructor, she can hopefully catch it and ride it in.

Oldest was having a little trouble with this.  She would stand up, but immediately fall off.  In her defense, I think it was gravity.  She’s taller, and thus it’s harder for her to stay low and keep her balance.  At least that was my assessment.  Since I have also tried this twice, I can tell you that anyone who says it isn’t a real sport has never done it – it requires some pretty serious endurance, not just to ride the waves, but to continuously paddle out to get the next one.

For the next hour, Mom, Middle, and I watched the other two fall off of their boards a lot, but both of them managed a few good runs.

Youngest came in first, and after approaching us, she looked around for Oldest.  We informed her that she was still out on the waves, just as we watched her get her best run of the day.

“Why is she still out?” She shivered.  “My teacher told me it was time to come in, that’s not exactly fair.”

“Child,” I said, “Your lips are purple.”

I am pretty sure that Youngest is addicted now, this is going to cost me for at least a few more lessons, and I may even end up buying a surfboard.

Since now my squad was ravenous, we hit a place called Bembo’s, a Peruvian fast food chain, much more popular here than McDonald’s, although they have a few of those too.

Why is Bembo’s so popular, you may ask?

First of all, the name is funny.  My wife will say I am acting like a 12-year old boy, but I’m sorry, they might as well call it “Sluts.”  It makes me giggle.

Secondly, the burgers are made from real South American beef.  I hate to offend American beef producers, but if they can’t convince American fast-food restaurants to build burgers like this, they have already lost the global meat war.

Lastly, and perhaps the most important reason that Bembo’s is awesome:

(translated into Redneck English from Peruvian Spanish)

Me:  “I want one of those big German-style hamburgers with the relish on it, and some cheese sticks.”

Bembo Girl (See?  The name is funny, it never gets old!):  And what would you like to drink?

Me:  I'd like a cold beer with that.

Bembo Girl:  We’ll get that right out to you.

Bembo’s for the WIN!  Yes, readers, not only is the burger thick and beefy, but you can order a beer with your extra value meal!

I’m glad to be home.