Despite the blossoming purple, pink, and white flowers in Santiago's streets, in the Southern hemisphere, it's still winter here.
That, however, won't stop me from jumping in the Pacific and attempting to learn to surf, especially when I was in Pichilemu. An international surfing spot and one of Chile's finest locations of tube-producing waves.
In a smattering of Spanish and English, Joe, Lena, and I, the terrible trio, (we're still searching for a proper name), struggled through our surfing lesson. But in our thick second skin wetsuits, we looked more like floundering sea lions, than graceful surfers in the foamy sea. I managed, in a miraculous feat, to stand three times on my board, although each lasted mere seconds. I'm not sure if a blink of an eye or my standing presence on the board was longer. Netherless, in my mind, it counted.
As did the penguin, Lena and I spotted swimming in the sea three arm lengths away from us. I noticed it earlier and found the bird curious, but due to the numbing feeling of my body and the throbbing feeling in my head, from my board bopping me from a wipeout, I cast the bird out of my mind. I've never seen a penguin in its natural habitat, so naturally I never thought it would be bobbing in sea next to me. Without surprise, our surfer instructor confirmed its presence, a penguina, of course.
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