Sandy Hiatus

This blog is on a minor winter hiatus while we wait for the waters near Long Island to clear / be cleaned. In the meantime, I do hope you'll check out my sister blog Inventions by Night. Thanks and have a great day!

Developing a Simple Visual Language for Disaster Relief

With Hurricane Sandy still affecting many areas of NYC, my friends at Yoxi hosted a Post-Sandy Thinkathon to generate ideas for crisis management. There were many great ideas fermenting, but one that I was thinking about which could be put to use immediately is the idea of a universal color coding system that victims of disasters can use to quickly identify and express their needs, even when power and communication lines are down.

Individuals can use any available item — a shirt, a towel, a shopping bag, a piece of paper, and hang it outside their window or on a door that anyone passing can see.

Distribution and aid centers can also use a single color to identify a central place for drop offs, pick ups, or volunteer coordination even when no one else is there to receive or distribute.

Not only is the need made visible and easy to distinguish locally, but for neighborhoods like the Rockaways, the system would make for a powerful visual that anyone can connect to — and yes, I'm talking about media attention here, something the Rockaways didn't receive until several days in. Media attention being key to getting aid quickly.

Impressions of... (the Way LIfe Used to Be)

They really do all look alike...on TV anyway.

Korean TV is surgery-obsessed: I have seen eyes made so alarmingly wide that it would put anime characters to shame. It does not make for confidence building. Everyone gets their eyelids done. Now, even the men. 

So put away your sunglasses. Only people with something to hide wear shades on the street. Maybe I just want to block out the sun and stares? Alternately, old lady ojimas love to wear Terminator-sized visors with skin-colored bib masks on their daily walks and cyclists wrap their entire bodies in Spandex and bandanna anything exposed beneath their sunglasses. Nobody really bicycle-commutes.

Think you’re a well-adjusted independent woman of the world? No one cares if you’ve made a life for yourself and are earning truckloads of cash. Mothers all over would really prefer it if you just permed your hair and found a husband.

In the suburb of Buchon, the city finally got around to planting some trees fifteen years ago, but birds are still scarce since the city is want to blast DEET or PEET or whatever it is down these streets. Even as the trucks roll pass, mothers will stand idly by as their children play, the spray navigating through their midst.

But in Seoul, the fish are back in the Han’s tributaries and gobbled up by ducks and egrets alike. Dragonflies swarm the riverside, magpies squawk in the trees. Cosmos sweep across coastlines and mountain valleys. Cars do not honk whether you’re holding up traffic on a slow hill-climbing bicycle, or crossing the street on cane at the burning end of a red light. That courtesy is shared by pedestrians who wait fully on the sidewalk on even traffic-less streets for the light to change.  For the most part.

Wifi networks have boring names like MyNet_82 or HelloWirelessA769. Nobody uses email; app-messaging rules the land. TVs can swivel by remote. Every commercial features a pretty lady making a pouty face. Variety shows OD on after effects.

Places are navigated by villages: my sister didn’t even know what cross streets she lived on after six years in the same apartment. Cars come standard with GPS that scolds you in a cute child’s voice if you’re driving over the speed limit. Yuke ship, yuke ship, yuke ship! Sixty, sixty, sixty! Alternately, making the correct turn makes you a winner — ding ding ding! Streets might dead end without notice, but at least apartment complexes have their names emblazoned on their pastel exteriors. Keypads have replaced key entry.

Fashion runs all over the place. None of it indicative of any ties to specific cultural niches or age groups. Tie dye skirts and leopard print leggings for ojimas, hiking gear for the fit, sneakers and sports sandals go with any outfit.

The prevailing furniture style hews heavily toward 17th c. European with a shoehorn of eighties modern. Rhinestones have replaced old-timey mother-of-pearl inlays, multi-sectioned sofas offer extra, extra, extra oomph. In the artist village of Haeiri, an Ikea is opening among bourgie, wood slatterned minimalist homes.

Recently another Northener defected. North Korea may have as many as twenty more infiltration tunnels aimed toward Seoul. A baby was born. 

SoCal

Manhattan Beach

No trip is complete without a little mishap, right? In town for a wedding, I decided to extend my trip for a little bit of surfing in Sunset beach. I borrowed a board and drove down early morning, the fog still huffing along thick as goose down over the ocean. I paddled out on the miniature breaks for an hour before the chill got to me and the shortcomings of the board (no pun intended) became so very apparent. I reached my car and saddled up to find a longboard and before I hit the highway, I was hailed aside by some construction workers who noticed my flat tire. I was wondering what that sound was.

Later, my host suggested it might've been a turf thing. Or a race thing. That Orange County was very unfriendly toward outsiders. Which kind of made sense when you consider how else does a person get a flat while parked?

After the mechanic switched out my tire, I figured I might as well drive down to Huntington and check out that beach as well. It was still a little flat out, but I got a couple in before the chill got to me again. Cali beaches are not warm, which I guess I knew, but was somehow in denial about.

Rrrrrrr

D'ARC by Matuse

Want this.

Breakwater Surf Co.

Photo: Courtesy @urbansurfergirl

I hit up Beach 67 on Sunday with a friend and checked out newly opened Breakwater Surf Co to rent a couple boards. Nigel, the owner, was super helpful and even let us trade in our shortboards for something more forgiving when we'd had enough of roughing it (rookies, what are you gonna do). The shop just opened in August and everything was still new, which is a nice contrast against the battered foamies you'll find at some of the other rental shops. We even got to test a Greenlight Subway Series demo "longboard" that you can carry on the subway. Wide and thick like a longboard, but only 6'10, easy peazy for subway navigating.

Originally from Barbados, Nigel's been surfing these waters for the past 20 years so had plenty of advice on the best breaks and seems just as concerned about establishing a community hub as he is about turning a profit.

I'm not even gonna talk about the actual surfing, except to say, it's still pretty humbling.

SURF FORECAST: SATURDAY

Saturday afternoon is looking good for both Rockaway and Long Beach care of Nadine. Small 1–2 feet waves starting Sat around 1p (low tide), with strong 12–15mph offshore/cross shore winds and long, fat swells stretching 15–18 seconds for both beaches. Perfect for rookies.

Waves will peak on Sunday reaching 3–5 feet (chest to head high), winds easing into single digits, and swells getting shorter as we get to Monday afternoon.

Weather will be cool. You'll definitely need a full 3/2 or 4/3 suit.
It's going to be a good weekend. Go get some.

WOMEN WHO SURF(ED): MARGO OBERG

Old timey news story from Australia paper, The Age.

"This woman won seven world surfing titles — several of those were amateur titles — her first when she was 15 in Puerto Rico in 1968 (Fred Hemmings won the men's title that year)…."

"At her first contest for under 12s (she was the only girl competing) she beat 70 boys."

"Of course, women like Jericho Poppler, Debbie Beacham and Becky Benson won events, and Boyer took three world titles, but Margo dominated for a long, long time. People got sick of her winning. She was in another league a lot of the time. Women then tended to surf 'stylish and pretty', as Hawaiian resident and former pro surfer Randy Rarick puts it. But Oberg was aggressive, she was not as elegant as the others. Her turns were deeper and harder and she liked big waves.

"The men liked Margo, too. They liked her grit, they liked the way she surfed. They took her seriously, which is saying something when you consider the machismo of Hawaiian male surfers. For one thing she could surf three to four-metre Sunset better than a lot of men, says Rarick. 'She had exceptional wave knowledge, so much experience basically from spending so many hours in the water.'

"…Oberg was exceptionally good. She acheived standards in the surf that few women have in recent decades; excelled at a a sport than can be incredibly demanding physically and a sport that women have always put in the too-hard basket."

MAGIC

Found this random video online and think that person might actually be me?

Steve noticed them first, "I think I see some mammals out there?" Annemieke and I scanned our eyes across the grey surface of the ocean for several seconds. We were total skeptics on this matter. But then, miraculously, there they were. A smattering of black fins skimming along the coast, just past the breaks. Here. In the motherfucking Rockaways. Our minds were — how do you say — blown? We watched them from shore, then suited up for a morning surf session.

An hour or so later, the dolphins were back, swimming in the opposite direction. I was sitting on the sand, recovering from a major wipeout and heat exhaustion. The wetsuit I'd worn, (4/3) was WAY too hot; I'd had to keep flushing it through with ocean coldness to maintain sanity. After peeling the suit off, I was reluctant to 1) put it back on 2) dive back in the water in just a bikini. But those dolphins were SO CLOSE. I grabbed my board and headed out anyway. It was cold, but I warmed up soon enough from all the paddling. I paddled until my arms felt weak. Then I paddled some more. The people back on shore looked no taller than than the tip of my pinky, and the dolphins — the dolphins were swimming by me a mere 10 feet away. I could hear them breaching, just going about their business as usual. But for me, it was pure magic: I felt alive, humbled, and utterly grateful for this moment.

CHOOSING A BOARD

Image from Wooden Surfboard Plans (notes mine)

At my first lesson, my instructor handed me 9'6 foam longboard. Nothing pretty to look at, but it's the least likely to give you a concussion (or result in a liability). Since then, I've been mostly riding 9' fiberglass boards, or longboards until I find one of my own. I was told by friend and Rockaway veteran Shawn Roche to get something more in the range of  8'. It seems the rule of thumb for beginner boards is to get something 22 inches taller than you, round nosed, and fairly wide and thick. I'm 5'4, so I could probably stand to get something in the 7'2 to 8' range — I guess you call this a funboard?

Longboards
The easiest to learn on, these logs give you maximum buoyancy and stability, especially on the tiny, knee high summer Rocka-waves.

Short performance boards
These guys are better suited for slightly bigger waves — waist to chest high and are meant for turning and carving. Harder to learn on (but easier to carry on the subway).

Malibu/Funboard
They say this is the board you'll have your whole life. These have the stability of a longer board, but will be easier to learn on than a short board and are best for most conditions.

Boards come in one of four basic materials.
Foam (soft top): Rent and learn on one, but don't buy one. They're cheap and ugly.

Fiberglass: These have a polyester foam core that makes the board feel more responsive and give the board weight — to smooth out chop (like driving a sedan). The fiberglass (polyurethane resin) also adds to the "lively" feel but leaves it prone to dings and dents, which can compromise the water tightness and are costly to repair.

Epoxy: These start with a Poly Styrene foam blank, and will be lighter, stronger, and less prone to damage. You'll also get a stiffer board which may or may not be your cup of tea. Less toxic than Fiberglass, but I mean, that's like comparing petrol to coal. Both fiberglass and epoxy will yellow with age and are subject to sun damage after prolonged use.

Wood: I have yet to see anyone riding one of these in the water, but it seems every vintage surfing picture has some tanned surfer standing against a beast of a board, the grain lean and dark, with a rich patina earned over years of use. Wood boards can be the most expensive, and while definitely the least toxic to produce, still have to be sealed with a poly-based resin. Newer boards are hollow, can have removable fins, and are finished in fiberglass or epoxy. They'll last you a lifetime, and will only look more beautiful with age.

THE DREAM

The Dream

JUST DOING IT

Once upon a time, I had this pie-in-the-sky dream that after I finished high school, I would take a year off to surf in Hawaii before I went to college. My parents nixed the idea immediately of course. A year off would surely lay fertile ground for avoiding college altogether and crush their hopes of me becoming a lawyer or doctor — neither of which I’d expressed the slightest desire of ever, EVER, pursuing. So when I ended up attending school at Indiana U, smack in the middle of a hayfield in the Midwest, the idea of surfing pretty much evaporated from my existence  — except for an extended layover in Hawaii, where I used my one day to hit the waves. Then The Dream burrowed itself away for a very long hibernation.

When I moved to coastal waters along the East Coast, I still had nary a thought about what seemed to me a very distinctly West Coast endeavor. But that dormant little seed finally took root and three years ago, a little internet searching led me to find surfing lessons that were held in the city. I started swimming regularly with the intent of taking a lesson that spring. Life got in the way again, but then this year, free from a 9-to-5 and with the ocean beckoning, I finally booked that first lesson.

It happened today. The basics of how to lie on a board: perfectly centered, toes touching the tail. How to paddle: back arched, one arm at a time. How to pop up: feet wide apart facing the rail, but perched along the center stringer, head turned forward. And most importantly, I learned to get past that initial hesitation and just get to the beach. The rest will take care of itself.