The water temperature seems the same as the air's and slipping into it is like walking into a gentle embrace. It's as close to perfect as any scene I've been in for a long time. I have a good session. I'm in the right place at the right time and slip down the faces and turn a little feeling the power of the ocean beneath my feet. No one except us campers is out so the guys take off their trunks and surf naked, their white butts glaring against their tanned torsos.
Life is wonderful.
And we've scheduled a masseuse. An Austrian woman we met at the bar the night before comes to work out the knots in our necks and backs. She does acupuncture massage, she explains, holding up a thin metal probe, which she proceeds to poke around the outer edge of my ear. She outlines my body with the tool, from my bellybutton, around my lips, to the center of my forehead. It's a strange, not-unpleasant experience, and while my back goes unkneaded, I seem to feel a bit looser.