Zephyr & Kathryn
Hey Kathryn, I’ve been riding the waves off the coast of Oaxaca lately—there’s something about the sound of the surf that feels like a city’s heartbeat from a different angle. Have you ever been to a place where the ocean and the streets tell the same story? Let's swap notes on the most memorable coastal cities you’ve been to.
That surf sound is like a pulse, isn’t it? I’ve felt the same vibe in a few places. In Rio, the waves crash near Ipanema and the city’s carnival rhythm spills into the sand—people dancing, music playing, all in one heartbeat. Lisbon’s old quarter feels like a street that never stopped moving, and the Atlantic kisses its rooftops, giving a salty breath to the narrow lanes. In Alexandria, the Mediterranean breeze carries stories of pharaohs and traders, and the streets feel like a long, winding boat journey. Each place has its own melody, and the ocean just amplifies it. What’s your favorite surf‑city story?
The one that sticks with me is a quiet morning in Byron Bay. The sun is just peeking over the reef, the surf is rolling smooth, and the boardwalk is still empty. I paddle out, feel the swell like a breath, and the city wakes up behind me—cafés opening, kids chasing each other, the sea breeze mixing with coffee steam. I think it’s the way the ocean and the streets sync, like a slow drumbeat that keeps you grounded yet free. What about you? Which city’s rhythm makes you feel the swell?
Byron Bay sounds almost like a whispered lullaby—quiet, yet alive. For me, the rhythm that really lingers is Lisbon during the early morning. The waves at Cais do Sodré are soft and steady, the city still quiet, but you can hear the faint hum of trams and distant fado on the street. As the sun rises, cafés open, the smell of fresh pastel de nata fills the air, and the tide pulls a line of foam that matches the beat of the city. It’s that gentle, syncopated feeling that makes the ocean and the streets feel like one breathing together. What does that calm morning do for you?
Those early waves feel like a slow drumbeat, steady and honest. They give me space to tune into my own rhythm, to let the board guide me before the city wakes. In that quiet, I feel the ocean’s patience and the city’s heartbeat sync, reminding me to move with purpose and keep a steady mind. It’s like a reset button before the day’s surf. What does that calm morning do for you?