Shasta Snow

It's 2008. I decided to continue the blog. I used to post all over this shit until I went corp-o (no offense boys). I figured that since I'm going to be getting into some wild shit up in SF I should keep everyone up to date.

Next Tuesday I'll be heading up north on the Shasta Snow Trip...

Here is the first leg of my journey:

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Excited to get out of Los Angeles to link with the (in)famous Shasta Snow Trip.

The second leg:

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After a stop at my sister's place, I'll make my way up to San Francisco to meet with Cory. From SF we'll head out to the meeting point for the Shasta Snow Trip.

Subscribe to this blog now 'cuz it's going to get wild!

new spot

Hey... I've got a new spot. I've been podcasting lately. Go here to check that out.

Or...

Check me on myspace!

peas!

cali norte

clean air is nice... that's all for now

go eat nica

Sunset session somewhere south of the gringosphere...

I'm not in Nicaragua anymore, but I've entertained the idea of flying back for another three months. I feel like the golden-age of Nicaragua is happening without me while I'm stuck in gringo-vile. It's like being in the mid-west back when hip-hop was cool.

Get it now people. Go now before it's too late. Soon, every magazine will run full-length features on Mama Nica and the country will be overrun by land-hungry gringos and smelly tourist/backpack/surf nazis.

Go now while the gold rush is still in it's infant phase. The pure life is still half pure, for now...

Before I make any decisions, I'm waiting to see what becomes of a job query with the OC Weekly. I was particularly captivated by their ad that read: "High-energy atmosphere, non-corporate work environment."

That means no suit! Hopefully no cubicle either. That would really suck.

blueprints

If you ever want to kick some ass in the US, go live in the third-world for three months and then fly home.

I've been working like a goddamned freakshow during the past week -- in the kitchen and training with lifeguards. I'm sleep deprived, hungry for money, and stoked to be back.

How long will the drive last? When will I want to return to the slow life? I have no idea. For now, I'm spreading the love and goodness that I found in Nicaragua all around town. Its beautiful to be home, but it's COLD!

I have the day off and I'm searching for a living space. If everything works out, I'll have a spot to work on my music and writing. Perhaps a warehouse space? A loft? A place to throw some nice parties and play my drums without neighbors yelling at me? Nice.

eat rice

I changed the title of my blog. Now that I'm not wandering through central america, I figured I'd revert back to the "go eat rice" theme.

Whatever. It's still the same blog, I'm just back in SoCal. And no, I haven't gone corporate.

my favorite wine of the whole day!

The grapes are hiding from the cold...

Wine farm, central Cali.

going home

I know that I’m flying over the US when cities and towns start to look like computer chips. Back over Mexico, the lights looked organic, like blood vessels. Now the grid is straight and orderly – electronic.

It’s cold. Stepping off the plane in Los Angeles I’m hit by a blast of air. No more tropical offshore breeze. The tropical sunlight stored in the darkened cells of my skin is sucked from its shelter. I feel my tan diminishing with each gust.

After a nervous stint clearing customs, it’s nice to see my Dad’s smile. My shoes were stolen on the bus in Nicaragua and my toes are going numb.

That night, I sleep well in my parent’s house.

When I awake, I’m excited to be in a new place. I walk into the hall and hug my mother for the first time in four months. We talk about Nicaragua while she fixes her hair and gets ready for work. I’m glad to be with her again.

Later, in the kitchen, I attempt to make my coffee Nicaraguan style…

1 teaspoon of instant coffee
2 teaspoons of sugar
1 teaspoon of water
grind coffee and sugar until blended into a yellow paste
add boiling water while stirring paste slowly
enjoy with sweet bread.

It tastes a little like Nicaragua. The caffeine eventually filters into my blood, heart and brain. I feel alive -- stoked on life, my trip, my new understanding of the world.

It’s time to kick a little ass now, find something to do. I want to cook. I don’t know why I’m drawn to restaurants. There’s something about them that I love. Maybe it’s the heat, or the comfortable pants that I can wear in the kitchen. Maybe it’s that I get to use my hands and be on my feet and use my mind. Maybe it’s the sharp knives, the kung-fu-atmosphere in a kitchen.

I’m turned on by the women who wait your table, wash your dishes and seat you at your table. When I eat out at a restaurant, I always peek my head into the kitchen to see what’s happening. When I see a cook my age, I get jealous and want to be better.

After breakfast, I drive to visit Jon at his restaurant. We talk for hours. I like Jon. He’s a spiritual person. We can talk about taichi, food, and meditation all in one breath.

He offers me work for a few months. My inner Capricorn is satisfied. I suppose I could be working in an office and making big bucks, but for now, my soul is in the kitchen. – even if I’m just washing dishes. I’ll start Tuesday.

bueno tubo

Suave pelo baby. I cut the hair 'cuz I started looking like hippy.

All the major cities in Nicaragua have Sandinista mayors, except for one. Here, a Sandinista painting in San Juan Del Sur.

sick pits and hot chicks

It’s been about a week since the last post. Having my father here in Nicaragua kept me off the net for a while. Now I’m back, and I’ll try to post more often.

There was quite an uprising from everyone when I posted in Spanish. Notice that now you’re reading English. I was just kidding about posting only in Spanish. Don’t worry, the English is here to stay, I’ll refrain the Spanish to emails and messenger.

We had a solid pulse of southwest swell this weekend, along with incredibly strong winds. The offshore gusts were pushing 30 knots. It was completely surf-able. Elbin, Momo, and I were the only people in the water. The wind created a nasty upwelling of cold water, so the water temps dipped down to about 70 F.

I had a springsuit, so I didn’t freeze. All the local boys surfed one or two waves, complained of “juevos pocainos,” and proceeded to exit the water.

This weekend was one of those special times in a surfer’s life when all the elements come together perfectly. While the waves were pumping, Hotel Rancho Santana, which sits off the rocks where we surf, hosted “Miss Nicaragua 2006.”

I shit you not. After kicking out of perfect barrels, I could look towards the rocks and watch the most beautiful women in Nicaragua filming a television show.

After charging overhead pits, I walked over and chatted with a few of the finalists. You couldn’t imagine a less stuck-up group of hot girls. This defiantly isn’t Hollywood. The girls here dance better anyway. Later that night I came back to hang out and grub some buffet with the ladies.

And I thought Nicaragua was going to be dangerous! Everyone back home is asking when I’m coming home. If things like this keep happening… never. But seriously, financially it appears I’ll be coming home sometime in March. I have about 50 days on my 90 day visa. I’ll suckle as many days as I can off this visa, and my bank account.

The house is coming along. I’m living with four Nicas now. The yard is looking better and better every day. Elbin is pimping the place out to get some cash from his sister in Germany (who owns the house). Today I’m going to help him find work at Rancho Santana.

I’ve got the girls learning massage. They practice on my back before and after my surf sessions. I want them to have work when I go home. I told them to buy special herbal oils and do massage on the beach for $20 an hour. They need a little more practice though and that’s what I’m here for.

I bought a bike this week for C$300 (US$17). It’s really fresh. I haven’t taken it off any sweet jumps, but it’s got a rad basket.

My hair was cut last week in San Juan. I was starting to look like a hippy. I’m all about first-world estilo now. First-world style with a third-world vibe, but “vibe” is a hippy word. Smelly hippies go wash your feet. It’s nice to have short hair again, and the girls like it.

Until the next dispatch, enjoy those first-world amenities for me – I get my water from a well every morning!

Hard to surf low tide, but good for photos...

Playa Santana, low tide.

The colonial buildings here are pretty sweet.

Heaven on Earth!

Having lunch in the market. Rivas, Nicaragua.

Rivas, Nicaragua.

espera en rivas

¡Que aburrido sin olas! Soy en Rivas espera para manana cuando mi Papa fuere. Solo internet y comida aqui, pero esta bien, aqui practico me español, y come mucho gallo pinto.

Todos las dias en Nicaragua come gallo pinto. ¡Es comida aburrida! Necesito la comida de California, por favor.

Anoche no fue a el disco. Caminando en la calle, pero la ciudad fue dormirle. Solo un bar con chicas y ellas fue fea. No buena, pero, buena para dormirle, verdad?

Yo sabe mi español es asi asi, alguno personas en la Web escribe espanol... lo siento! Pero, ahora yo solo aprender la lingua. ¿Es correcto?

Hasta luego

adios santana... hola Papa!!

Lo siento todos, no mas Ingles aqui. Necesito aprender espanol, entonces, este pagina es en Espanol ahora. Lo siento para la problema.

Hoy es una loca dia! Las chicas trabajando en mi casa no mas! Mucho blahblaso con la familia. Pero, es solo una chica, una hermana de Silvia. Ella es la mentirosa! Miarda!

Pero, todo bien porque mi papa es aqui en dos dias! Soy en Rivas hoy, manana tambien. No se, es posible anoche yo fuere a el disco, buscando para las chicas. Pero, yo no se ahora. Todos mi ropas es susio! Que mala suerte! No buena ropa?! Posible no cancha!

Rivas es una buena ciudad, pero no es circa de el mar. Pero mi gusta aqui. Las olas ahora es muy buena! No hay olas aqui, solo chicas.

Es peligroso a noche aqui? No se, es posible. Pero, es posible las chicas es aqui a noche tambien. Pero es solo mi, perfecto para las chicas!!

slow down playa

Riding your bike on a bumpy road with no lights is always fun.

pimpin' out la casa

looking up in Nicaragua

Yesterday was a difficult day. I knew something was wrong before I even heard the news about Scotty. The air just had a feeling. After I cried alone, it was like the whole air changed. Things were natural again, like a pipe being unclogged.

It was a difficult birthday.

On another note, I’ve got some great photos to post. I befriended a local professional photographer who lives here six months per year. We’re teaming up to do a feature article about Nicaragua. It’s time to hustle some words and make my education start paying for itself.

I’m not sure what magazine yet, possibly Surfer's Path or The Surfer's Journal. I need to do some correspondence before anything is finalized. I’m spending all my time during low-tide writing this piece. I promise it will be good. We’ll sift through photos tomorrow.

Cross your fingers for a cover shot and a full-length feature. I’ll cross my fingers for a paycheck.

Elbin Castillo backside on the recent North Pacific pulse.

Unidentified Santana local spending some time in the shade.

The many faces of Elbin Castillo. One minute he's kissing a baby, the next he's trying to make out with your daughter.

Sean Orfila charging huge overhead backside closeouts.

Elbin Castillo -- drawing big backside aerial spray paintings at Playa Santana.

Elbin Castillo -- local goofyfoot charger

Elbin Castillo -- roommate, practical joker, goofyfoot, troublemaker and bueno amigo de Nicaragua.

Ronald Scott Magnuson. Surf in peace.

My best friend died yesterday. I wrote this piece for everyone back home. I'm posting it on my blog as well...

It’s my birthday. I’m in Nicaragua, half a continent from home. I take a two mile hike to check the internet and read messages from family and friends. My inbox has a message that my good friend Scotty died last night in a car crash.

If you’re reading this, or listening as it may be, you probably knew Scotty. You know how funny he was. You know his smile and his laugh. You remember the stories he told. Maybe you knew him as a child, or in high school, or at work. It didn’t matter, Scotty had a presence. He was the funniest person I knew.

Scott made me laugh more than anyone. He was the ultimate story teller -- a guy that could capture your attention and effortlessly have you rolling in laughter at a completely absurd and crazy story.

It’s difficult to write about Scotty in the past tense. Scotty isn’t past tense. Whatever memories you have of Scotty are tiny parts of him that are still alive now. When a thought of Scotty comes into my mind, I know he’s alive here, in that very thought.

And somewhere in heaven, he’s probably thinking about me at the same time. Or better yet, he’s doing what he does best. He’s gathered a small group of newfound friends around a campfire. They’re at a beach with waves more perfect than anything seen or even imagined on Earth. The weather is warm and perfect. The smells are sweet. And, with the highest-quality, the best-tasting beer available from the heavenly supermarket, Scotty has their attention completely fixed upon a story. He’s talking about us, down here on Earth. He’s telling them stories about us. The memories he has of us, whatever adventure or hilarious situation we had had with him. And when he finally gets to the punch-line, all of heaven breaks into belly-aching laughter.

I couldn’t imagine a better person to have around up there in the stars. While it’s a struggle down here, there’s no struggle there. Scotty, I know, is happy. He’s laughing when we laugh, he’s smiling when we smile, he’s watching us surf, he’s making jokes about us, he’s telling stories about us, and he’s having a beer with us at the parties. He’s at the concerts with us, he’s at the games, and he’s in the water with us.

I know for certain that when I get to see Scotty again, he’s going to have me laughing for years on end. There’s plenty of adventure for him up there, endless amounts stories to be told. And I feel fortunate now, to know that one person made me laugh so hard. I know that when I say I love you Scotty, you can hear it. Although I can’t hug you now (and I know you weren’t afraid to give your guy friends big gnarly hugs), I know that you’re here.

And until we get together again, I’ll be dedicating my best barrels to you. You just keep all those souls up in heaven laughing, and score some heavenly waves for me (and some fluffy powder days, too).

I love you brother.

Yo quiero mi amor! Nicaragua mi amor!

Costa has changed. I feel like I’m back in California, but with warm water and nice weather. I haven’t been here in five years, but what was once a mellow little place is now overrun by tourists. It probably this way five years ago, just not this lame.

If there’s one thing I’ve discovered on this little journey to Costa, it’s this:

I DON’T LIKE HIPPIES! They smell and they’re annoying. Pura Vida that you hippies.

Honestly, this place just isn’t for me. Dominical is a tourist trap. I’m not feelin’ the pura vida. I stumbled into pura vida in Nicaragua. I guess it felt good to be the only gringo in town. Everyone knew my name, little kids would come over to the casa to hang out all the time. I was always with people that were funny. Nicaraguans are twice as friendly. The girls are hot. The surf is just epic. It’s probably what Costa was like about 15 years ago. The country is so third world that it’s just rad. Nothing happens, it’s slow and inefficient and completely NOT tourist friendly. It can be dangerous. I love it.

I’ve decided its time to make shit happen! I’m going to buy that property! It’s going to take me about six or seven years to save up the cash, but I’m set on it. I got the tractor beam out!

Looks like I’ll be heading back to the states sometime this month. Let the true hustle begin…

HAPPY NEW YEARS EVERYONE. THANKS FOR READING. Please leave a comment. It makes me feel cool.

no bueno

I smashed my elbow into my board today on a backside barrel. There's a massive ding on the rail of my board. I'm pretty bummed on it.

I've bused myself to Playa Dominical in Costa Rica. So far, I don't like it. I want to be back in Santana with my peeps.

This place is touristy and I'm not feelin' the love like Nicaragua. So far, the real Pura Vida is back in Nicaragua. But I'm going to give Dominical a chance.

There may be a job oppurtunity here at a restaurant that just opened. I don't know how long I'd stick around, but we'll see what happens. The boss said to come back in a couple days. Looks like I may be back in the kitchen! I love cooking so it could be good.

It's not ALL that bad here, I guess. Its just difficult coming to a place alone and trying to make friends and everything. I just arrived today, but already I want to be back in Santana.

mas marley

Bob Marley sounds good anywhere. But for some strange reason, listening to Bob Marley in the third world is amazing. I’ve forged deep friendships with Nicaraguans simply through a love of Bob Marley.

I’ve got one day left here in Nicaragua, and to be honest, I’m pretty bummed I’m not staying.

Yesterday I took the bus to Rivas and bought books, coloring pencils, pens, paper and other things for the kids here (their family doesn’t have the money to afford these things). These kids are amazing. They have this eagerness to learn, it’s unlike anything I’ve seen with kids in the States. When I started counting and reciting the alphabet in English it was full tractor-beam attention from these kids. They repeated every word. They were completely stoked the whole time.

They may live in a shack with plastic walls, but they are some of the fastest-learning, smartest, sharpest, wittiest, nicest little people I’ve ever encountered.

On another note, I spent a solid three hours talking yesterday to Nicaraguans about buying land.

I don’t have the money to buy land here (except for one little triangle that I could actually afford), but I understand that people back home may have an interest in living here, retiring, building a vacation home, or opening a surf camp, etc. I wandered around the village snapping photos and talking about prices and land plots.

The land here now is incredibly cheap. I mean, these plots would be a million dollars back home.

I’m not a salesman, I’m not looking to make a buck here. I just want to help these people because, well, I think they’re cool. That’s right. Nicaraguans are cool. And I don't really want to leave this place. But tomorrow, I'm going.

barrels for christmas breakfast

Here's that picture I promised… hey it’s not HUGE, but still, it’s warm water barrels. I won’t complain!

It’s Christmas here but it certainly doesn’t feel like it. While people back home are opening presents, I’m wondering what the hell I should do with my life. The barrels got me in a good mood, but I know it’s time for me to move on.

I’m heading to Costa Rica this Thursday. It’s time to look for a job. Yes – A JOB! Wow, that sounds totally weird, but I need to hustle.

What will I do, you ask?

Well, I don’t know yet, but while this is posting, I’m searching for a surf magazine to edit, or a journalism internship.

Living in the third world is making me realize the value of a first-world education. In school, I learned a gang of skills -- copy editing, writing, grammar, design, mad crazy computer skills, Web design, etc. While I’m learning Spanish now, I’d rather not let those skills go to waste.

Still, I don’t want to be back in the States and stuck in a corporate routine (not now at least). Cold water, road rage, Bush – no thanks, I’ll pass for now. I guess I’m still looking for a niche to live within. All I ask is for good waves, good food, someone to laugh with, time for contemplation and yoga. That’s all really -- pretty simple, right?

My bank account isn’t exactly agreeing with me right now, so it’s time to hustle.

I’ve got a good feeling about Costa. We’ll see what becomes of it.

flirting with Nicas

The swell is already starting to show! I just had a sweet four hour session of head high barrels. I’m stoked to have some waves to play with. Looks like the swell will build all day and into tomorrow. I’m defiantly feeling lovely right now.

Speaking of lovely, I’d like to write a bit about flirting in Latin America. Things are different here when it comes to male/female relations. It’s really pretty funny. It is totally common here for a guy to try to kiss girl, just, like… out of nowhere.

In the States, this kind of flirting would totally piss a girl off. For example, here, a whistle to a girl on the street will get a smile from a lady. An attempt to kiss girls in the market will make them laugh, push you away, blush, etc.

Imagine doing this in Southern California. You’re likely to be slapped, sued and/or arrested. It took me a while to adapt to this style of playing, but now that I’ve honed my skills, I’m getting pretty good.

This is a typical scene in the market in Rivas: (with translation)

Girl: Que Busco, que busco (for what are you looking?)

Me: Una novia y un beso (a girlfriend and a kiss – moving towards her face)

Girl (laughing, blushing and pushing me away): NO! No novias aqui. (No girlfriends here).

At this point, all the in the shop are laughing and making whooping noises and the girl is totally blushing, etc.

Now that little situation sounds pretty blunt for California, but here, I just made a girl feel completely good. She’s not offended. She’s not pissed. She’s laughing. She feels more confident that she looks good.

This style of flirting goes for all the girls around, too. For example, the girls that cook here at the house get bombarded by this flirting all day. They know it’s a joke and a game, but they feel good and laugh when it happens.

It almost feels like grade school or something, there’s a certain innocence inherent in the whole game. It really feels pretty natural. I may even try it back home, just as a joke. That will be the day my eye is black and blue. Oh well, you only live once, right?

Waves coming tomorrow, I can feel it, check back for photos.

Alright so, I must apologize for the lack of posts. You see, when you enter a country with no plan, no place to stay, and no knowledge of what is what, it takes a while to become settled and familiar with yourself in another place.

But I’m back now and my Web presence has been revived. I’ve found access to the net. I’ve even got pictures. I feel terrible for not being able to post what has happened, but I can sum it up quickly:

-I’m living in a town named Santana with a Nicaraguan family. I surf every day and I speak barely any English with the people here.

-It isn’t exactly cheap, looks like I’ll be heading back to the states to find work in a couple months.

-I live in a three bedroom house with another Nicaraguan named Elvis, there’s drama with him and his father, I will explain it all later, just understand that me being here is a very positive thing for him. The timing was perfect. (The third room is empty).

-I’m helping his family here by helping one brother open his business, and Elvis clean up the house for future rental, sale, business, etc. (The house I’m living in now).

-No I’m not getting paid.

-Yes I’m very happy here.

-Yes the surf is extremely good.

-No I don’t have pictures of me surfing (except for the smallest day yet, check back next week after the swell hits).

-I do, however, have pictures of life here in Santana (defiantly not the States!! Welcome to Nicaragua baby!!)

Come back for more posts, I’ve got internet access at a gringo ranch that is next to our little village here.

maiz 

pura vida en nicaragua 

bonitas 

pulling mad 360s, whatup HB... 

A whole other way of life here...  

Bambino! 

Mi casa es muy bonita, no?!  

Bienvendidos a Nicaragua

Two days ago I thought I´d be sailing to La Paz. Today I´m in posting blogs in Rivas, Nicaragua. Let me explain what happened...

Picture this...

Two men sit across from one another at a table. One is 40-something and swimming in the ocean of mid-life crises. The other is 20-something, and still fresh from importation into adulthood.

-One man sips coffee -- black, the other drinks Yerba Mate.

-One man listens to Rush Limbaugh over the SSB Radio while the other reads Noam Chomsky.

-One owns a boat, property in the US and hates taxes. The other owns close to nothing, travels to surf, and fantasizes of ex-patriotism in third world surf meccas.

-One surfs because it´s his religion, the other prefers deep-sea fishing.

-One is short and the other is tall.

-How long can these two individuals live in peace on 44 feet of floating fiberglass? NOT LONG!

After a couple of verbal mishaps, late nights in Cabo, things being broken, dingys flipping and general differences of opinion, Carlos and I agreed it was time to abandon the Bogtrotter. The Captain concurred.

Carlos flew home for the holidays, and I, well, I flew to Managua. It was the cheapest flight into Central America and it´s probably the least touristed place I could imagine.

It took me 30 hours of travel, via plane from Cabo to Mexico City where I stayed in the airport overnight and caught a plane to San Salvador, where I ran to make another flight to Managua, Nicaragua. Then I got off that plane, got jipped by a taxi driver to the busstation and hopped on a bus to Rivas. I got a room last night and now I´m waiting for the bus in Rivas that will take me to Popollo where finally, I WILL SURF.

Traveling alone has been intensely exciting. I used almost no English the entire time yet I was having conversations in Spanish with people in the airport, buying bus tickets, finding rooms, etc. I was the only white dude on the plane (all three), the bus, the hospedaje, and so far while walking around Rivas, the only white dude in town.

People don´t stare like I look out of place. I guess that is because I´m alone. I have a mustache too, which always helps.

The change of plans happened so quickly that I hadn´t any time to buy a guidebook. I wish I could spit a few paragraphs on the history of Rivas. I can tell you that the buildings look very colonial and many are still riddled with bullet holes.

When I walked down the street this morning, it became obvious that Rivas was where major Saldestina battles were faught. Blame the Republicans. This place is peacefull now, the people normal and beautiful as Central Americanos tend to be (especially the mujeres). Still, there was some serious urban combat going on here, not too long ago.

I was given the wrong key to my room last night, when I woke the father of the house to get the right key, he held a gun in his right hand. What can I say? This isn´t Costa Rica.

I´ve got a few hours of waiting here in Rivas. I also expect that it will be my last post for a while, I doubt there is internet where I´m going.

Buena Suerte everyone. This post made me start thinking in English again, I wasn´t thinking to myself much before, because I was thinking in Spanish. Please visualize me getting barreled in Popollo because I need to score some waves. Thanks everyone.

Adios.

pictures are up!!

Posted the pictures on another page... check them out!

http://buenaola.blogspot.com