Peru Part 2

Dear Moll diary,

My last blog talked about every moll's most hated and defining role - waiting for surfers. I promised that during our road trip to the North of Peru ( ten days of full-time molling in desert landscapes, staying in isolated ghost towns with freezing winds/water. Extreme molling I think I'll call it. ) I would make it my mission to discover the best way to end the waiting game and maybe even reverse the tables, have Mr Bodyboard wait for me.

After an extensive search I have discovered that there is always going to be an element of waiting. Sorry fellow molls but I think it's just part of the job description. However, I did discover that there is a way to lose track of the seconds and minutes a little. Walking. Seriously, the beach can so often be a battle ground that we forget how nice it is to stroll along. That's right, I said stroll, I'm not saying we should do anything drastic like run up a hill or even walk fast! I'm just saying that by the time you've wandered along a couple of beaches, maybe followed a crab or two ( maybe had a conversation with a crab or two if you're in a town of 300 people who only speak Spanish. Except for you. ), when you return to where you left your surfer generally they are either finished, or will be soon.

And of course while you're walking you'll need some music to stimulate that incredible brain of yours, so I have put together a playlist of moll-specific songs. Of course my selection is limited by what's in my ipod, any suggestions of new material would be more than welcome (and of course if you think I have crappy taste feel free to cull).

• Fisherman's Woman - Emiliana Torrini - Fisherman's Woman
  I don't know who the heck 'Anna Ingun's mum' is, but as 'the gladiator of all fisherman's wives' she is a moll at heart. In fact I would go so far as suggesting this song for a moll anthem. Although Icelandic fisherman may have a slightly different life to surfers, it seems that their partners know what it is to moll - 'and the only thing you can think of is me, waiting for you, by the window, just like Anna waits for her man, how will I learn, I'll wait'. So maybe surfers aren't always thinking of us while out at sea, but it's nice to dream....
  
• Respect - Aretha Franklin - The Very Best of Aretha Franklin
  If you don't know this song you've probably been on a rock in Iceland with Anna, although I have my suspicions that even she could hum the chorus. If you don't know what this song could mean for molls then you're a fool. Or a surfer. Or both.
  
• Cowgirl in the sand - Neil Young - Everybody Knows This is Nowhere
  So I don't think that Neil had molls specifically in mind for this track, but I'm claiming it anyway. I love the image of a beach-side wild west where molls in leather boots with spurs patrol the sand dunes occasionally shooting surfers who gone done them wrong.
  
• Gettin' in the Way - Jill Scott - Who is Jill Scott? Words and Sounds Vol. 1
  We may bitch and moan about our surfers, but ultimately they are ours to bitch and moan about. And when you see a wanna-be moll gazing adoringly at your surfer it's time to saddle up (like in the previous song) and prepare for a moll verbal shoot out. Or maybe you'll just insult the offender in your head. But they'll know mentally damn it!! Anywho.... this song will give you the ammo to knock 'em dead (in your mind). Lines like 'You'd better back down, before you get smacked down' and my personal favourite 'I'm gonna take you out in middle of the street and whoop your tan for all it's worth, $5.99 or something like that' are sure to put that hussy in her place. In your mind.
  
• To Hot Ta Trott - The Commodores - Motown - The Complete Number 1's i
  Probably the best song ever to strut your stuff to. That's right, every moll is 'to hot ta stop' and don't you forget it. This song was definitely inspired by molls. Defiantly.
  
• Plasticities - Andrew Bird - Armchair Apocrpha
  So this song has absolutely nothing to do with molls or even the beach. In fact it's a little embarrassing, but I actually thought that the chorus was 'Whale fight' (in reality it's 'We'll fight'). But it's a great song to listen to while staring out to sea, imagining whales jumping out of the water and mucking around in a 'food fight' kind of spirit. Good times my friend, good whale filled times.
  
• The Signal - Urthboy - The Signal
  I actually had a tough time getting some Australian content into this list which I think is definitely a national issue. We are a country of thousands of molls, what the heck is going on? There should be endless choices of songs. And while I am sure that molls were not the inspiration for this track, we do send out 'the signal' to 'please come home' so really it's very relevant. This track is best played at the end of the walk as you trek towards your towels and hope against hope that you are going to see a surfers smile heading towards you.

So that's it for now, but again if you have any suggestions I'd love to hear them, and you will hear from me next month from our new location in Puerto Escondito, Mexico.

Happy molling

Peru part one

Dear moll diary,

I thought she was the one.

Drawn in by her sexy French-Canadian accent, I could only nod in wonder as her toned body worked up a sweat.

Get your mind out of the gutter you dirty pervert! I was at the gym with what I hoped was a grade one, professional moll. Or proffesiomoll ( ha ha haaaaa god I'm good.)

Mr Bodyboard and I had arrived in Lima, Peru, a couple of days ago and had been met by his Peruvian surfer friend 'Liro' and his girlfriend 'Italy' (yes, she is actually French-Canadian but if you knew what her real name was and then read that I am calling her Italy you would fall on the ground laughing, 'oh my you are so very funny! you would exclaim and then general hilarity would ensue).

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanywho.

Surprise surprise, the boys decided to go surfing. I had been told that Milan was a surfer, but (luckily for me) after two years in Hawaii the Peruvian spring swell was a little too cold for her and she declined to join them, taking me under her wing instead.

Over the next few hours I discovered that she had dated her first surfer 5 or so years ago, and after are solid serve of sitting on the beach and taking photos she had decided to beat him at his own game and take to the waves.

Now, while she couldn't surf here because (remember - think everything she says in a sexy French accent) 'what the shit is this wet suit - I don't surf like this', she was still determined that we would not sit around 'not like the stupid girls'.

Italy had joined a gym which she went to when Liro surfed. No sitting lazily on the beach staring wistfully at the ocean for us! We were going to do a Latin American kick boxing class/treadmill run/ cycle/ salsa lesson (lead by a flamboyantly gay man in what can only be described as too much lycra and a unitard, yes it is possible and I saw it. And loved it). She moved gracefully through everything as I trailed behind growing increasingly red and sweaty. I was in total awe of her.

But.

Over the following days, each time we returned from the gym, the boys still weren't home. No matter how we chose to while away the hours, ultimately, we were still molls waiting for our surfers. I was with a grade one moll and nothing had changed.

'Zis is what it iz' Italy said waving her cigarette around in that chic French way 'Zis iz to date a surfer'.

I thought back to Sri Lanka where I had met an Israeli virgin moll on her first surf trip. She had been loitering around the town with a look of total frustration and wandering rage. One night after a few arracks (a local spirit which can be like russian roulette) I cornered her (like a super cool matador with a pissed off and scantily dressed bull)

'What the shit is this?' (ok so now switch to a sexy Israeli accent. The accent is always sexy because so are all molls)
'I have to sit on the beach and he wants that I take photos of him for hours? Is this normal?'

Pouring another arrack I lay down the facts of molling for her. I started with the basics such as always carrying a book, and led her all the way to the finer skills of exception-from-photo-taking-excuses (My total and utter adoration of your incredible stupendousness has paralyzed my hands - one of my personal favourites). She left that night relieved that she was not alone (and a little drunk), and I congratulated myself on a job well done (and politely asked the room to cease spinning)

Fast forward to Peru and I was realizing that no matter if you had no experience, like Ms Israeli, or if you're a pro like Italy, the definition of a moll doesn't change. We're all waiting for the same
mother-ruckers to come out of the ocean, and they aint returning any time soon.

So what's a moll to do? Honestly, I have no idea.

I discussed my dilemma with mr Bodyboard and he suggested that we molls choose to wait. I suggested that he had just chosen a slap in the face. He countered with 'well why don't you make us wait for you?'

Done.

In the nest few days we are embarking on a surf safari north and I will make it an experiment to see if I can reverse the molling process and make the men wait. Oh, and Italy can wait as well since she is deserting me for warmer waters. Hussy.

How am I going to do it? I have no idea. It's a little hard to say 'I'm sorry I'm not ready to leave yet because in the next 3 chapters the murder mystery will be solved and I definitely can't leave this patch of sand until I know who killed mumma Moopa and why!' Maybe it will turn into an endless game of hide-and-seek with me lying under a mossy log silently while I listen to their exasperated cries - 'Where is she? She said she's only be an hour!'
'he he he ' I will laugh, 'suckers'. Only I am stuck under a log. For hours. hmmmmmm.

Well I'll keep yall posted and welcome any suggestions for my quest for time domination. Mr Bodyboard commented that it has to be something I'm passionate about, like they are about surfing. I feel that eating copious amounts of Nutella or drinking gin and tonics for 4 hours will not be beneficial or prove a point (although I can see the fun in it and there would definitely be passion).

Remember, the molls, united, will never be defeated.