Finding the Californian in Me

I’ve never much fancied the idea of surfing. Okay, fancied maybe, but not realistically. I am not what one would describe as a thrill seeker. I like my life to feel secure. There are enough thrills in the everyday anyways – Will I miss the bus? Will I get dehydrated if I forget my water bottle? You know, the usual worries. I like to imagine my life as a relaxed person who enjoys adventure. Surfing fits into these scenarios easily, but if I’m honest with myself, it’s not part of my reality.

My relationship with surfing is not only hindered by my inability to try something I perceive as dangerous, but further hindered by its integral role in the stereotyping of my home state, California. And I’m not just from California, but southern California. Better yet, Orange County. Nothing gets me worked up quicker than a packaged description of California. Well, I say that about a lot of things, but it’s definitely up there on the list of do-not-do-around-Bryce things. The number of these assumptions I was subjected to severely increased with the integration of Dan into my life, and with it all of the Midwesterners who became my loved ones. I tried to be patient; there are only so many comments about perfect weather, tans and beaches that I can take. The last 5 years were probably good training for our time in Europe, though, where people are quite convinced of their American notions, number one amongst them being the So Cal life. I generally think of myself as rather unpatriotic. I see many faults with our country and long for many deeply complicated yet fundamental changes. But nothing makes me question this more than the feistiness I feel at the spouting of comments on perfect weather and beaches. I have a deep pride in the mountains that span my home state, and its offering of every climate, including that white stuff that comes around in the winter, yes, snow. I pride myself on defying the stereotype of a California girl, too. No, I don’t have blond hair, a plastic body, a closet full of designer clothes and a year-round tan, and above all, I do not surf.

Or do I? I fear I may have given in to the image a bit. A few months ago, we joined the online network at couchsurfing.org. We’d heard of it on and off throughout the last few years and only heard positive reviews. If you are unfamiliar with the concept, couchsurfing is a network that connects people internationally as an alternative way to find lodging in and experience a city. Members make a profile with basic info, like interests and jobs, post photos, and list their expectations from participating in the program, down to the basic how many people can fit on their couch per night. When traveling, members search for their destination city and start looking through profiles to find a host. You send a friendly message, requesting to stay on your specified dates and wait for a yeah or neigh.

Now this is a type of surfing I can really get behind. One might think it’s not in keeping with my personality. It is a bit of a thrill-seeking activity, after all, to stay on a stranger’s couch, and admittedly I’d be more selective in my requests if I were a single female traveling alone. But what thrill could be better for mankind today? People hunger for a black and white reality, something that is explainable and thus more secure, and with that, arise many stereotypes and prejudices, as well as individualism. Through individualism, we begin a cycle of bigger-better-faster-stronger, one against the other, and eventually whole cultures are divided from one another. Animosity forms. People attack in desperation, but incidentally stereotypes are strengthened and separatism ensues. The cycle gains speed, and instead of holding others in love and grace, we allow fear to dominate. Couch surfing is a simple and unique way to deconstruct these barriers person by person. One woman we contacted through the website stated that her current mission was to do her “little part to increase the global trust.” To start with, it is an exchange of faith to open your home to a stranger and to spend the night at a stranger’s home (with things like your passport sitting in the living room). It perhaps places more faith in an individual to acknowledge that she has something to share with you, to enrich your days.

Staying with locals allows you to get a picture of the everyday life of people in that city. You share in their daily patterns, from eating to sleeping, and have the opportunity to sit around the table together, discussing politics, religion and other complex issues largely affected by culture. In doing so, you not only learn more about the culture of the place you are visiting, but also have the opportunity to share your own experiences and opinions. There’s a certain assurance in jumping into these topics with couch surfers, too – everyone has a common interest in traveling and exploring, which makes the chances of finding someone open and eager to engage in this mutual sharing more likely.

Dan and I have tested the waters twice now on our month of European travels, and both experiences were more than positive. We’re hoping to find at least one other couch to surf on this trip and to open our apartment to travelers once we settle in Boston. Much of the joy of traveling is realizing how much there is to see and appreciating the diversity of the world and her people. While couch surfing helps highlight this diversity, it also brings out the opposite beauty in traveling – acknowledging and honoring a very common and shared humanity with people thousands of miles away despite the urges in today’s society to separate. This acknowledgment is a thrilling relief to me.

So I guess I’ve tested my adventure-seeking abilities and it looks like I’m not as adverse to it as I may have thought. I must say I am enjoying surfing so far - and hey, maybe it makes me a better Californian.