The other day, while cleaning the paraphernalia of the table with a CD which was recorded on "Out of noise" Sakamoto Riuichi glad to give it another use (thankfully now day, flashes of musical pedantry not have to cost us 20 euros) I was running around the track This hackneyed. The previous day, a colleague who has been surfing in this life, told me war stories of the eighties, including the sprints between gangs of surfers from two well known beaches in Asturias. Peaks often passed from words to deeds.
Viewed from a distance, the truth is that it seems incredible today, for a newcomer to imagine real battle each other to lie on the beach, car chases through the city until the stranger has left limits , ax in hand (true), and other niceties.
While there are still places and characters trying to maintain some aggression towards not local, it does seem clear is that at least the areas I frequent, things are infinitely more peaceful and one can move along the beaches on the basis of the conditions of the sea without danger of being head-throw affiliation much less what they put out of water.
Many of those who engaged in those years have left the surf, but many are still coming in, and his attitude is much quieter. Obviously riots hormones have long given way to a certain maturity, at least in most cases, and when you speak at the peak you are asked by the school children rather than threaten to take you out of the water to shock.
On the other hand, now are young perhaps have been spared because of the need to imitate attitudes at that time were a manifestation of the culture that the pioneers were imitating and implementing on our beaches. And they looked pretty calm. Either that or that, oddly enough, the gray still give some respect to youth.
What is clear is that for someone like me, come to the surf and the 40 completed, it is perfectly normal, go to a beach or another depending on the circumstances, was unthinkable in those days. The lack of prejudice is an advantage, some had to have.
However, things go even more quiet, it's funny how history weighs on the players of those years. One, now in knowing more people, some familiar faces and at the peak, which even has resumed relations years ago through the surf, he realizes that these invisible borders between some beaches are still there, at least in the heads some. Thinking about all this I realize that is impossible to see some faces on some beaches, whatever the conditions. I happen quickly a handful of cases I've ever seen in the water, and you do not see on the beach "rival."
And so when they ask if you've come today and tell them that yes, in that there was a Banaz beach, stare at you with a face poker. Now I realize why
Anyway sometimes a bath can feel like more than the weight of any competition before, and now I remember the time I met a day early start to one of these places in the territory Comanche, at seven o'clock in the peak alone. Or the time that I saw another face full bath "misplaced", but never get to the peak, but was content with that came a few feet away.
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