Another World Tour

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And I am sitting on my outdoor patio, newly remodeled, in warm dappled sunlight. Swami-blessed water still on my skin. I am home.

What an adventure has just wrapped, and all with my totally gorgeous blonde babe. A travel bender. It began in London, two nights at the Cadogan, site of Oscar Wilde’s arrest for indecency (he buggered a young lord in the room three floors above ours) and moved to Mykonos, Greece. We sailed a catamaran with the world’s bravest and most stylish snowboarders while toasting ancient history while Athens burned. Who wants austerity? Not the Greeks and not me! Next came Mallorca and the wedding of two beautiful Europeans, the husband Finnish and the wife French, and they live in Tokyo, of course, but they marry on an estate in Mallorca, of course. And it was a beautiful wedding and an even more beautiful reception. Freshly shaved jamón from pigs’ legs displayed like sculpture.

And then Hong Kong. Hong Kong may be the future. It is Blade Runner. And we watched Kolohe Andino and Julian Wilson splash dark Nike water from a towering LCD billboard on the Cantonese, who all cheered wildly. They wanted more.

Bali followed. Canggu, Dreamland, Uluwatu, etc. etc. etc. The W and The St. Regis and The Oberoi etc. etc. etc. Bali is perfect and we could have stayed on but had to leave because a Hollywood executive was throwing a party in East Hampton. The Hamptons in summer are simply a must. We drank champagne and read the New York Times, each morning, with dark sunglasses on because we drank too much champagne. I made fast friends with a British director who would meet Prince William and Princess Kate the next week. He laughed about how he would tell both that he doesn’t believe in them because he is a republican. Not a Mitt Romney Republican (demode!) but an Oliver Cromwell republican (chic!).

And then Battery Park in the city (downtown is the new uptown). We went to Alexander McQueen at the Met. He was an absolute genius. Just beyond.

And finally home. Dappled Southern California sunlight. Swamis saltwater.


Home, at last.


I call Travis Ferré, my editor, because we are going to the Volcom bikini show, but his plans change and he must go to the Far East hunting typhoons with today’s most modern surfers. And I call Dayten Likness, my business partner, but he is on Tavarua filming the swell of the century. And Sterling Spencer tells me he is in the Amazon hunting small, smuggle-able monkeys but also surfing a tidal bore. And Thom Pringle is lost in France. And Dion Agius is booking a trip to deep Mexico because he has heard rumor of an abandoned tequila distillery directly on a point break. And Luke Davis is booking a trip to Sydney because he loves models and winter.

And Jordy Smith is home in South Africa with the rest of our top surfers except for Kelly Slater who is on Tavarua with Dayten Likness.

What an adventure is this surf life. —Chas Smith