Beach Waves and Balboa Bars

            Balboa Beach was my family’s favorite way to spend free Saturdays. We packed into the car and braved the I-5 traffic. We slipped the Yukon between two cars on the curb and clambered out of the car. A sea breeze brushed against my face, as the sun’s rays massaged the back of my neck. Cars were packed along the sidewalk, yet not a family was in sight. A flock of seagulls glided over us and disappeared behind a row of houses.

            “Do you guys want to go paddleboarding first?” my dad asked.

            Luke and Jake blurted out “yes”. I was a little more hesitant to answer. I loved the water, but at the time, I had what I believed was a completely rational fear of a shark attack. I rarely voiced my fear, knowing I would be mocked by my siblings, so I simply followed my family to the rental shop. Overgrown gardens and UCLA flags dressed the houses of the street. A few families appeared as we came closer to the main road. A line of bikers darted in front of us, weaving through the growing crowd. T-shirts and shorts were replaced with sunglasses and swimsuits, occasionally with a coat of sand. Every store had something interesting to find. A candy shop with golden lettering offered a barrel of colorful taffies, a Chinese restaurant prominently displayed a mini Buddha statue, and a plastic rocket was being launched in front of a toy store. We finally made it to the small shack for the paddleboards. The owner was laughing with a young couple renting out bikes. He had a visor to keep back his silver hair, and wrinkles from his smile were etched into his tan face.

            After a short conversation, the owner passed Jake, Luke, and I paddles and instructed us on where to find the boards. We turned the corner to the canal. To the right, sailboats were docked as far as the eye could see. To the left, the bridge connecting Balboa Island to the mainland allowed access underneath for boats to travel. We spotted the boards stacked against the sidewalk. Mine was surprisingly light, as I hauled it to the water, crumbs of sand still crusted on its side. I pushed the board into the water until the fin no longer scratched against the sand before climbing on.

            I could feel my heart beating as I knelt on the board and dipped the paddle into the dark water. Jake and Luke had already paddled into the center of the canal and were adjusting their stance. I hurried to catch up to them. After a few minutes, I decided to try standing. I moved up quickly, as the board teetered below me. I pushed the paddle deep into the water against the current and started moving upstream. A sailboat bounced past me, sending waves towards me. I carefully avoided the currents as the waves splashed frigid water at my feet, which burned like fire trying to balance myself.

            I sat back down on my board and turned around. I closed my eyes and lay on my back. I was completely alone, as the waves rocked me and pushed me down the canal. I made my mind blank and focused only on this moment. I sighed as all my worries melted away from the heat of the sun. It’s fascinating how water can bring such peace. After riding the water back to the rest of my family, I paddled around the island. I turned into a canal where the water stood still; not even the boats rocked in the current. A low bridge forced me to lie my chest and paddle with my arms to ride underneath it. At the next corner, I was met with rough waves spurred on by massive ships and jet skis zipping through the canal. I caught up with Jake and Luke plunging into the water from a wooden pole into the icy depths. We paddled back to the family to return our boards and get lunch.

            We let ourselves airdry as we stepped onto the sidewalk barefoot, now becoming a part of the crowd. Light traffic passed the streets, with every car blasting music from rap to 70’s classics. The smell of carne asada and freshly cooked tortillas wafted in the air, leading us to the front door of Picante Martins. The room was painted a dark red with a story of a couple told through paintings. My dad ordered, while the rest of us found a table big enough for us. We devoured the small trays of chips and salsa, and my dad had Luke and I ask for more, since they were more likely to give younger kids a free tray. Our orders finally came, and a giant plate of nachos was placed before me. Steaming steak sat on a pool of guacamole and salsa. My mouth watered as I waited for dad to finish praying.

            We wandered around the street before stopping for dessert at Dad’s Balboa Bars, a local ice cream shop. A sweet aroma intoxicated the air, as the employees with dark blue aprons gently dunked the ice cream into melted chocolate before burying them in sprinkles. The chocolate then hardened to create the iconic “Balboa Bar”. We wandered along the canal enjoying our treats and telling stories. But for the most part, we were silent. We were too busy taking everything in; the beautiful water, the complete silence, and the sandy sidewalk on our bare feet. It seemed impossible to not get lost in the peace. The business of the world weighs us down and distracts us, but time freezes here.