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The peninsula just handled these onshore days with accompanying wind swells so well. There was always an option with at least side-shore winds and trusty reefs transforming the wind swell into something very surf-able. Add to this the fact that there are no relevant tides to take into the equation which meant that you just could choose when and how long you paddled out. As long as there was some swell, you could surf, whenever you wanted, with rarely more than a handful of other guys out.
Having already surfed enough this day I spent the late afternoon up on the cliff overlooking the cape. It was already close to dusk when a local surfer approached me and asked if he could borrow a towel as he had forgot to bring one with him. I had a clean one left and gave it to him and once he had changed into dry clothes, he returned the towel and offered me some bread (a local bread which turned out to be very good).
We had a little chat – me in my very basic Italian – and somehow came to the topic of local politics. This turned out to be a very emotional topic for him and, with tears in the eyes, he hinted how desperate the situation was. I knew about the feudal history of this island and how much these structures still dominate politics and society on the island via a hardly distinguishable melange of squires, mafia, and local clans. But that it obviously still happens to an extent that makes an otherwise cheerful young lad despair in such a way struck me.
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