Life as a beach bum

Compared to the train rides, my schedule in Anglet was refreshingly simple: wake up, eat, surf, eat, surf, eat, sleep. For breakfast I would grab some fresh baked Croissants from the patisserie next to the beach and for dinner I would devour a deliciously cheap three-course meal from one of the many restaurants along the boardwalk. In between, I surfed.

Or at least I tried to. Most of the time I was there the surf was pretty rough, and since I hadn't gone surfing in a few months it was often a tiring struggle just to paddle out past the whitewash. My daily Italian diet of three scoops of gelato didn't help my physical condition too much, either. Nevertheless, I did catch a few waves and it was revitalizing just to be near the ocean again.

Often while bored at work or at school I would dream about the simple, enviable life of the surf bum. For a week in France I was able to live that lifestyle, but instead of it being the ideal I had envisioned, I found I was still unsatisfied. Even the relaxing can become routine, and I found that after a few days of doing nothing but surf, eat, and sleep, I became restless and eager for a new experience to consume.