Moments too many
A compilation of some of my favorite Baleal memories
I volunteered and lived at a surf hostel in Baleal, Portugal, during the month of October. Time isn't real in this tiny surf town– the place is a series of goofy side quests. No words could paint these memories in their marvelous entirety, but I hope this provides a glimpse of Baleal’s magic.
Solo sunset surf:
I can’t tell you how much I love surfing with my friends and chatting in between wave sets. But there’s something so sacred about paddling out alone. It’s “only the ocean and you,” as Jack Johnson once put it. I had a few of these moments in October, but one really stands out.
I’d been eager to surf all day, but none of my friends were available to join. I’d never surfed alone, and I grabbed my board hesitantly that evening. Walking timidly down the beach, I paddled out to a solitary spot.
For a while, I floated beyond the breakers. I had begun to learn that giving myself time to get comfortable in the water and observe the ocean’s mood helped me catch more waves and feel exponentially more zen.
I delighted in the chill on my feet, dangling under my board. The sunset was gorgeous in an overcast sort of way– the air had been thick with clouds all week.
The incognito sun fell below the horizon and a faint watercolor pink smudged the blue water. Everything swayed back and forth; the ocean a moving art. Dusk quickly dimmed the air to a misty blue, the horizon of water and sky merging into a periwinkle blur.
I began to catch wave after wave, improving little by little. Even after the swell flattened and the sky went dark, I stayed on my board for some time. Just the ocean and me.
Collection bottles:
I wasn’t always the best hostel volunteer.
One night, we threw a dinner party with the other volunteers at the surf house. We all crammed into the kitchen together, cooking and laughing over drinks. A couple glasses of wine in, I had a great idea. Back in the staff room there was a mysterious old wine shelf stacked with dusty bottles, untouched for ages. I’d had my eye on it, and figured this was the perfect time to pop a bottle. It was only fair, I justified, that this wine didn’t go to waste.
I brought out a couple of fizzy bottles while my friends chanted “champagne!” Upon popping them both I quickly realized they were expired. Not in the way that some red wines age to buttery perfection, but in a rancid, the-cork-is-deteriorating-and-this-might-kill-me kind of way. No free champagne for us.
The next morning, my boss returned from a long vacation in Bali and stopped by to check on the state of the hostel. I had the morning off and was reading on the beach. Apparently, I’d left the wine bottles sitting on the back porch the night before.
I was humbled by a text in the group chat with a photo asking who on earth opened them. Turns out, they were the owner’s collection wine bottles. I was in trouble, but I was quickly forgiven and was not fired. Can you even fire someone that you don’t pay?
I never opened any random wine bottles again, but I still wasn’t the best volunteer. I spilled entire bottles of cleaning liquid multiple times, always in a rush to speed through my evening shift and make it to happy hour.
I also unplugged the wifi with the broom while a guest was on a business meeting. Honest mistake. I couldn’t help but giggle and be grateful that in that moment, I was the one sweeping, barefoot after the beach, rather than the one with a furrowed brow on a business meeting.
The job was fun for me. Granted, that’s likely because I didn’t take it terribly seriously. I will say, cleaning dorms and making up beds while jamming to music after a surf session was not half bad. It fulfilled my Blue Crush fantasies.
A rainbow swim:
I was blue this day. I cried in my hostel bunk, thinking about how I’d soon have to leave Baleal. Unsure of who I wanted to be or what I wanted to do afterward, I vented to my roommate, Margherita, over warm mugs of tea. She shared the sentiment.
A few friends and I had planned to go surfing, which I was certain would pull me out of my head and into the present. As soon as we prepared to paddle out, charcoal clouds emerged overhead, bringing with them lightning, thunder and raindrops like bullets. No surfing today.
Hours later, I couldn't shake my itch to get in the ocean. Whether I surfed or not wasn’t my concern; I just needed its energy. The lightning had subsided almost entirely, so I trudged down to the beach under crying skies.
Barefoot, sweatpants over my swimsuit and a scarf around my head, I struggled down the muddy cliffs. I abandoned my layers on the rocks and ventured into icy waves that stole my breath. Embracing the cold on my reddening skin, I immersed myself in the bubbling foam of white water. Then, I experienced one of the most beautiful moments of my life thus far.
In a matter of seconds, the dark orange sun emerged from the clouds and painted the water just before sunset. Rain slowed to a soft drizzle and a double rainbow appeared in the sky. Shooting out of the horizon and over the ocean, the glowing arcs curved above my head.
Bobbing among the swells, I took in the vast beauty. Dramatic jagged cliffs, a thrashing, moody ocean and colors of an indescribable saturation. I laughed in awe of it all before drying off and hiking back up to the surf house.
It’s not all sunshine and rainbows. But sometimes it really is. Go jump in the ocean! It’s good for ya.
Grape cake:
It was our manager Andreza’s birthday. Sweet Andreza is from Brazil and delights in cooking and serving others. On her own birthday she cooked us dinner at the hostel. We sat around the table for over five hours, passing around food and drinks, talking and singing and laughing.
From 7pm to midnight Andreza presented smoked meat, steaming skewers, baked eggplant, garlic bread, Brazilian vinaigrette salad and more. Each time we thought we couldn't possibly eat another bite, another dish appeared and we kicked our stomachs into third gear.
A combination of delicious food, port wine and spiced rum left us giddy and delirious. Just as we’d slowed our food intake, ready to toss up our hands in surrender, Andreza vanished and reappeared with one of the most extravagant cakes I’ve ever seen. The three-tier desert, iced with homemade buttercream, was placed in the middle of the table alongside a million enticing little cake balls.
We each eagerly grabbed a cake ball to start. We bit into the sweet dough and were surprised to discover a grape in the center. I can’t adequately describe the hilariousness of this moment– being totally startled by the appearance of a grape and looking up to witness each person, one by one, experience the same shock.
That wasn’t all. The main cake was topped with glistening grapes, and we soon discovered that its filling too contained sliced grapes. For whatever reason, we could not stop laughing.
I don’t know why it was so damn funny, really. Sarah and I especially, tears rolling down our cheeks, could not keep it together. The humor wasn’t necessarily in the desert itself but in the randomness of the situation. We didn’t want Andreza to think we were poking fun of her food, but attempts to withhold our giggles only made it worse.
It was a core memory, as we neared our fifth hour of feasting in the cozy, golden-lit dining room together. I was astonished by the way the time flew. Not a phone in sight, just hours of food and conversation.
I learned later that these cake balls are called “Surpresa de uva,” which translates to “grape surprise.” Very fitting. It’s a traditional Brazilian sweet, and I’m lucky to have tried it. I may have another Surpresa de uva one day, but I will never again have the experience of trying one for the first time.
Folding sheets:
One of my favorite things to do in Baleal was run in the thick bamboo fields that surround the town. I would pop my headphones on and prance through the maze– long, narrow dirt roads with towering bamboo on every side.
The plants would creak with each gust of wind, hollow sticks shifting in their place and rubbing against one another. Random off-trail spots lead to isolated views of the ocean, spots further north where a few surfers ventured to escape the crowds.
Another favorite activity, believe it or not, was going to the laundromat. The thing about doing laundry at the hostel was that the one washer we had was a gamble. Its door jammed about 90% of the time, locking wet clothes in the drum to grow mildew and rot. We frequently found ourselves ripping open the machine with knives and forks and credit cards.
When we finally did retrieve our clothes and find space for them on the outdoor drying rack, there was the issue of humidity. They’d take a minimum of two days to dry and would likely end up smelling worse than before. Not ideal.
So every now and again, I’d shove my dirty clothes into my Osprey and walk 20 minutes to the Lavanderia in Ferrel, the next town over. It was so peaceful, truly. I loved the solo stroll. Alone time was a rarity; back at the hostel I spent practically every waking minute with people. While my clothes spun inside, I’d sit on the curb out front and read my book.
One day, I sat inside on the counter staring down the timer on my drying clothes. 30 seconds, 29, 28. An older lady approached me and started speaking Portuguese. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” I replied. But she continued to speak, grabbing stacks of warm sheets from her basket, indicating for my help. I grabbed opposite corners and we folded her sheets together for a solid 10 minutes. We smiled wordlessly at each other. The rest of the Lavanderia crowd watched as we squared sheet after sheet.
“Random moments like that are why you travel,” a friend replied when I told him the story.
Sangria-steeped dreams:
Sarah was one of my closest friends in Portugal. One evening, we had a very happy happy hour, and then headed to a little nearby bar with our friends. Many glasses of Sangria deep, we created an entire detailed plan which involved us moving directly to New Zealand, buying a van and living out of it together for some time.
One thing about both me and Sarah is that we like to dream. We have lots of ideas and plans, and become completely absorbed in the excitement of it all. As we scoured Skyscanner for flights to NZ, we told our new travel scheme to anyone who would listen.
The next morning, we had a sober conversation regarding the legitimacy of this adventure. Though it was actually quite doable, we knew it wasn’t time for us to go to New Zealand. We both had other places to be.
Sarah and I didn’t go to New Zealand together. At least not yet. But what a gift it is to be able to entertain crazy ideas and see what happens. What a trip to be a fresh adult with all kinds of free will! This is your sign to have a little too much Sangria and brainstorm your life choices with an equally spontaneous friend.
The list goes on. Baleal moments, cont., coming soon!
With love,
From gwen
reading this was 10/10 refreshing reminder while being back thanks for the inspo to dream a little
loved this one so much