Few things have a stronger association than surfing and Australia (except maybe surfing and California, but that’s another story). My arrival in Byron Bay, that hippy backpacker town several hours north of Sydney, was the first time I’d been thrown into this surfer-culture world. Amidst this place of wet suits, bare feet, and sun-bleached hair, I figured I had to be missing out on something good.
We were picked up, the only passengers on a small white bus, and carted to the Mojosurf office. There, we met up with the rest of our group for the 1/2-day surf lesson: a German man and woman, two German-speaking Swiss girls, our Aussie guide, and another German photographer. After a quick briefing, we headed back out to the bus and on to the beach. On the side of the road, we all stripped down to our swimsuits and squeezed into some wetsuits that smelled overwhelmingly of feet.
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