I sucked at windsurfing. No, no, I'm not being humble, modest or unrealistic. I really, really sucked. Overthought it, froze up, landed my butt in the water on several occasions.
And it was wonderful.
It merits a longer essay, but here are snatches of why: I saw a horseshoe crab, big, prehistoric-looking, happy, out in the open and not in a zoo. "Never grab them by the tail," warned Petra, my new idol, the windsurfing instructor. Uh, not to worry, I won't grab them at all. I'm a city girl. It's extreme enough that we're sharing the same water.
Ospreys. Apparently they're making a big comeback down by Atlantic City, where I windsurfed. Like for the bald eagles that are nesting not too far from my house, the environment is getting healthy enough down there for the ospreys to be making a comeback. Very cool.
Doing nothing. Sat on the beach, blanked out my mind, listened to the gentle waves. Not a common occurrence for me.
Eating like the locals. Petra turned me on to a cool little restaurant named Jo-Jos that served me up a nice whole wheat pasta and blackened shrimp salad. And when the stomach is happy, life is good.
Local newspapers. At JoJos, I read some essays I never would have found unless I'd been reading the "Shore News." It warms my writers' heart to see there are people working on writing everywhere you go.