i. RAT TOWN DAYZ (the beginning)

To be young and totally unaware of how stupid you are in front of people. We couldn´t have cared less about anything or anyone and certainly not the consequences. That seemed to be the norm back in those days.

We wanted to be rad, to live as we pleased, totally disconnected from whatever it meant to have a normal holiday. We wanted to get loaded and we wanted to have a good f+cking time while at it, get drunk, hook up with beautiful people and do all the illegal substances imaginable for our totally unprepared bodies (well that came way later).

But most importantly we wanted to feel like we were surfers.

You see, surfing in many cases, especially nowadays, is portrayed as a hollistic/connect with nature kind of thing. Be healthy, mindful and in tune with the energies of the ocean.

Fortunately or unfortunately, I was introduced to surfing through a whole different spectrum. And by that I mean; Rock n Roll and the endless pursuit of having epic unadulterated times with the boys every day.

Just one of the many random parties that would just happen because someone just put music.

I remember I used to be the typical kid you would call a “Buenazo” translated to english I think the closest would be “Good Boooooy”. I was following all the rules, I was staying away from alcohol, drugs, etc…Telling myself I´m going to be a great person, with incredible values. Oh and be a Doctor one day…

And then…

And then I went to Moliets et Maa. A small holiday town in the south west coast of France. The town consisted of the two camp grounds, it´s bars and restaurants as well as markets and an icecream shop. Featuring the classic french beach break scenery, pines all around and fresh smell of the ocean. An ideal place for a summer getaway to learn how to surf and make new friends! At least that´s what was in my father´s and my head.

Moliets et Maa a cute little place, except on Fridays, wow dude.

I was 15 years old and living in Egypt. The plan was to send me to a surf camp in Europe were I could also practice my French. Surrounded by kids my age and safe as a bird.

I don´t know how the conversation went, but whoever my father spoke to on the phone was an excellent sales person. He was sold immediately, no questions asked, and so I was booked in for the summer of a lifetime at the best surf camp in the world.

If ya haven´t figured it out, the name of that camp was…

Dreamsea Surf Camps.

A place that would mark me for years to come, a place I would call home and even become part of it´s family.

3,206 kilometers away from home and the surveillance of a parent. Thrown into a world I could have never imagined. A place outside of reality, a world inside a world, with it´s own social dynamics and rules.

Let me explain.

This Dreamsea Camp (they have many around the world) was located inside one of the camping sites called Les Cigales.

You could stay either on your own or in the many surf camps inside. The rules in the camping grounds were simple, don´t make noise after 11pm (of course there were many more rules…but that seemed to be the most respected one somehow) Everything else was left to your imagination. Think of it like this, no one was going to come tell you not to get drunk or high or whatever it was partly because everyone else was doing it, everywhere.

Drinking and having a good time where a day to day activity, a wonderland indeed.

In those days the Surf Camp experience was much more different than how it is portrayed now. It wasn´t about having a hollistic, spiritual, pastel colour everything kind of getaway.

In those days the age demographic for a surf camp was young adults and backpackers. Real dudes and dudettes. Nowadays the target is families and just normal everyday people.

Everything used to be so raw, unstable and unfiltered.

Beach parties, Forest parties, disco parties, dress up parties, wetsuit parties, bikini parties, party parties…any kind of party you could imagine could and would happen at some point for no reason.

Wetsuit Party, yup, wasn´t kidding. This was happening all over the surf camps.

This was a place where the dominant species is he who rocks the meanest moustache and the blondest of hair tips. A Guru of the disco and a king among mortals. The Surf instructor.

If you were one of these shirtless demons then you were…the bomb. The pinnacle of what it meant to be awesome.

As you can see I was totally in awe, like a fangirl, in this case, yes you could say I was a surf instructor fan boy.

Who could blame me?

Everything and everyone revolved around them.

Honestly I think on it now, and although good people in their own way, their ego´s were the size of Mt. Everest. But hey they definitely were having a good time and they were all, in general, really really nice to me always.

Of course there were also the Managers. These individuals, were outside of the pyramid. They were the closest thing to a responsible adult in that place , they weren´t present as much, seeing them having a drink was a rare sight, sometimes you could hear whispers of their greatness. But bro, when they got lit….faaaaak…they got super lit. They also ripped, they were confident and they were leaders. A whole other level of awesome.

Idk why but it seems that nowadays the less you know about surfing and the industry, the better qualified you are to run a surf camp. That was sarcasm. I´ve worked with plenty of managers. But it´s a rarity in todays surf camp industry to have the pleasure to work with the OG style kinda leader.

But anyway, below the Surf instructors and Managers was everyone else basically.

I didn´t want to be everyone else...I wanted to be part of the awesomeness, in anyway possible.

You easily can tell who in this picture was a Surf Instructor.

I think here is where one of my deepest problems to hunt me to this day first started appearing;
the way I thought of myself in the eyes of others.

I wonder sometimes who would I be if I hadn´t been exposed to these dynamics and ways of thinking at that age.

Would I have been a dedicated young man, focused on reaching my true potential and maybe perhaps maybe not becoming the asshole I later evolved into?

Getting carried away…

So that´s a general idea of the situation.

During my trip there I kept trying to imagine all the different kids I was going to meet. I pondered questions like; will the adults be nice, will they take care of me, will I have to eat fish or if the kids were going to find out I couldn´t ride a bycicle, oh and will I even like surfing?

Not surprising but yeah I ended up being absolutely obsessed with surfing.

The moment I stepped foot in that place, every.single.thought I had previously construed was sent down the drain.

First thing is, there were no kids, everyone must have been 18+, some well into their late 20`s. Party music, people drinking, smoking, skating and just being rad. Everyone there was rock n roll, even the freaking dogs had more fire in them than me and that´s says alot about the kind of kid I was then.

I was taken to my tent, basically two mattresses on floor level, honestly it was everything I needed, promised that at some point in that 4 week period there would be some other kids with me and given the usual tour afterwards.

Dude: Alright little bro, dinner´s at 7:30pm and breakfast starts at 8am. Your surf lessons start tomorrow and the way to the beach is there. Oh and don´t forget to clean your plate!

Me: silence

Dude: All clear little bro?

Me: Ummm, ahhhh, yeah all clear, thank you!

And my guide disappeared into the thick of that jungle.

The tent. Had to share one of these with a grown as man once, snored like a champ.

There I was, alone, totally out of my environment, scared shitless and with no idea what was going to happen next. All this while surrounded by beautiful people, all doing their own thing.

I was about to cry.

I sat down in the dining area and I called my father, and for some reason, I decided to tell him I was fine and everything was perfect. Maybe less kids than we expected but everything was just fine.

And so with that call ended, I decided to get my sh+t together. You got this I told myself.

I was 15 years old and I basically had never been surrounded by any of that, I was basically just a shy naive kid.

In front of me there was a bottle of whiskey or rhum or something, already opened and with no one around. I looked at it, grabbed it and took the nastiest sip off of it.

And that was the start.

Or the end.

Buenazo Adrián, before enlightenment.

From that moment on everything was about partying and surfing my brains out.

Seeing one of these surf instructor, Ale Puigi, go out into the bar area at 4pm in the afternoon, everyone having a chill time, and out of nowhere blast Bloc Party all over the camp while inciting the rest of the team and all the guests to start drinking, was mesmerising, totally taken back by how cool someone could be. Oh and that sweet sweet symphony, surely made by a god. Totally hypnotising.

Rock n Roll. That´s what it was, the purest of forms of rage brought into this plane of existence by Guitar and Battery.

I loved it, hard, and till this day I still love Rock n Roll.

Ale was all about the rock n roll lifestyle, my first surf coach, whom I respect and admire dearly. He was epic in every way. He was sort of like my idol. He lived the fast life and loved doing what he did. Which obviously was surfing. I mean come on, your office is the beach, your job is supervising adults who are basically playing around with water. Finish your day and straight into having good times with the guests and your friends. And all this while getting payed including free accommodation and food.

I wanted to be a rockstar like him! I said to myself.

I took up the mantle of “Grom” a slang term used to describe a young person who is enthusiastic about surfing, skateboarding, or other extreme sports. And stuck with that character to the core. I was the grom of the camp and I had to prove myself to the Lords of the Temple of Rad. That meant getting as wrecked as possible, and have an epic time doing so. Surf, eat, drink, sleep, repeat. That was the guide book, those were the priorities and the commandments.

Of course, Dreamsea had rules for minors, and they would do their very best to not let kids get blackout drunk and such. But it just wasn´t the kind of camp were everything is scheduled and under control from the moment we woke up till bedtime. I guess the person my father spoke to must have told him, that although they would take care of me, the camp wasn´t really going to babysit me. And my father, somehow, trusted in my judgement and in not doing stupid sh+t.

I did loads of stupid sh+t and found so many ways to work around not getting caught by management, I was even treated by staff as another one of them and had quite a few privileges thanks to that.

The wrong kid in the right place.

I had my group, all 20 or around that age.

But wait, Adrián, how the well did you get a group of friends who were 20 years old when you were just 15?

Bra I lied my ass off without shame.

I was 18 and that was that. I had removed my minor bracelet the “pineapple” one and gotten my hands on that big boy wristband which in the eyes of every single person in that place said I was well over 18.

I could even get inside the bars and clubs with that piece of string and no one would blink an eye at me. That´s how easy everything was in Moliets.

That original group, comprised of all guests, was one Italian and three Germans (I think they were all brothers?) and me. They were funny dudes, good people, and super nice with me. I will always remember their sympathy towards me. I hope they are all well and dandy.

Actually I think the Italian guy is now a travelling influencer on youtube.

But yeah first week of my stay, these dudes right here were my crew. Kooking about in the beach and trying to hang out with the cool kids, enjoying what it really meant to be free from our real lives.

The boys, you see what I mean they could all be brothers, no?

During my 4 week period there I met a lot of amazing people apart from these guys; dreamers, travellers and wanderers. People who just seemed free and kind.

People like Pedro, a Brazilian Swiss kid who skated real good and was very kind to me, we shared tents for a week.

I used to love running around Moliets looking for him drunk as hell while screaming his name out loud.

PEDROOOOOOOOOOOOO! I would shout.

Also the dude had like the funniest hangover/morning face ever. It literally seemed like he was dying.

I really came to see him as close friend, when he left the camp I was actually really sad.

I still follow him on IG, he does some trippy art!

That´s one of the beauties of Dreamsea, in such a short span of time you could really connect with people and create some legit bonds.

There was also the amazing and inseparable Canarian duo, Carlos and Hugo. They were the typical kids who just loved fucking around and had the most unhinged sense of humour.

“El Vacileo puro y duro” basically meaning “Fucking around all the time”.

Hugo was the nice one, he was always out to have a laugh, always talking about girls. I sh+t you not every time Hugo spoke his mind I would piss myself from laughter. Once I snuck in one of the neighbouring camps of Dreamsea, Hugo was with me. The plan was to enter the kitchen and steal…food I guess? We ended up smashing a whole table of plates and glasses, had taken all their ham and chorizo…oh and a bottle of Malibu. And we ran.

Wtf was that about.

On our amazing escape I was the first man down, a goddamn slack line at ankle high level hidden in the dark waiting for a 15 year old kid running for his life to trip on it. I literally levelled myself onto the floor, face first.

My foot next morning was wrecked but not my face, somehow.

Funny thing is, seconds after pulling myself together and making it out of there, Hugo suffered the same fate.

Carlos was the pretty boy, streamlined hair, quality surf gear and branded clothing. And a bit of a dick not gonna lie, but still a good kid. He would continue passing by Moliets every so often as the years passed, eventually becoming one of the mythical Moustached blonde tip warriors I spoke of earlier.

My first encounter with them was as follows: I was in the dining area of the camp, already had a couple of beers in, confidence high and fresh, ready to bullsh+t my way into any conversation pragmatically. These two dudes approach me, and you know we start talking. And suddenly the question came;

Them: You know were we can get weed?

I had no idea were to get weed.

Me: Yeah I know were you can get weed.

Them: Sweet! and for how much is a gram?

I had no idea what a gram was, and surely no idea about its cost.

Me: Oh bro one gram for one euro, easily.

Them: WOOOOOWWW

Hugo on the right and Pedro in the middle.

I also met one of my early teenage crushes that first season, Teresa. She was a lovely person, so excited about life and easy going, joined by her Zaragoza friends Juan and Marta, brother and sister. Crazy now to think how long ago was all that and how I´m still sometimes in touch with Teresa, and actual good friends with Juan. We worked together in Dreamsea at some point, what a full circle moment.

“We should try everything in life, with a good approach and without abuse, if it´s part of this world then that means you should give it a go.” A saying that I had forgotten up until recently, yet had stuck with me for the years to come.

This came from a man I called Don John Baby Boy, a lovely dude, apparently when he was younger he had been part of one of those sects and decided to leave as soon as he could. He was all kinds of a great guy and a Buenazo, but the kind that was still enjoying being naughty every now and then. He was kind enough to introduced me to sci-fi, a genre I have read countless books off to this day. I still have the book that started it all, given to me by him!

Thank you Don John. I hope you are killing it out there.

As you can see Dreamsea, Moliets, it was just the place to be, to find yourself, to lose yourself, to be stupid, to be happy and to just be you while surrounded by nothing but love.

It wasn´t all party, I learned a lot about myself, about life, about the world around me. I was taken under the wing of some incredible individuals. Many meaningful conversations were had, emotionally deep moments lived and a lot of waves were caught.

I felt so f+cking alive.

I was free to speak my mind and I was free to be me as unfiltered as possible. I guess something I have carried with me since then. To speak my mind freely, and let others do so. To respect each other and enjoy the moment together.

There was this one guy though, a certain german dude, who had no respect for anyone, yes he was unfiltered but to the point it was just insulting. He had arrived to the camp with his group of friends around the same time I did. He was back then what I would call;

An apex german.

Loud, obnoxious, super blonde, super blue eyes and drinking unmeasurable amounts of beer.

Let me say right away, the dude was an absolute d+ckhead. Total maniac who didn´t give a flying f+ck about anything or anyone. A lad who would drink like a Titan, fuck like a Bull and send it as hard as he could as if there were no tomorrow. I couldn´t stand him, like at all.

Unbeknown to me, we would later become inseparable best friends… this encounter marked the start of the Rat Town Dayz.

This person´s name being…

Paul Poser

END OF RAT TOWN DAYZ (THE BEGINNING)

Paul totally sober.