Describe a time you tried something for the first time

I'd like to talk about the first time I tried surfing. It was last August in Taghazout, which is a small village near Agadir, on the Atlantic coast of Morocco. It's very famous for surfers from all over the world.

The reason I tried it is my cousin Yassine. He is working as an instructor in a surf camp there, and for years he told me to come, but I always said no because I'm not a strong swimmer. Last summer I turned twenty, and I thought, if I don't try now, I will never do it. So I took the bus from Marrakech and I stayed with him for three days.

Honestly, at the beginning it was a disaster. The board was much more heavier than I expected, and the waves kept pushing me back to the beach. I think I fell down more than twenty times in the first morning. Yassine was laughing at me but he was also very patient. Finally on the last afternoon, I managed standing up for maybe five seconds, and everyone on the beach was clapping.

I felt very scared before, but after I was really excited. My whole body was hurting during three days, but I didn't care. Now I want to go back next summer and improve my skills.

Something I tried for the first time recently was surfing. I'd watched it a hundred times on the beach in Taghazout, a little fishing village near Agadir that's become a magnet for surfers, but last August I finally got in the water myself.

The person responsible is my cousin Yassine, who teaches at a surf camp there. He'd been nagging me to come for years, and I'd always found an excuse, mostly because I'm not a confident swimmer. But I turned twenty last summer, and something about that birthday made me think I'd run out of excuses. So I booked a bus from Marrakech and spent three days with him.

The first morning was humbling, to put it mildly. The board was far heavier than it looks, and every time I tried to paddle out a wave would knock me straight back to the shore. I must have fallen off twenty times before lunch, and Yassine found the whole thing hilarious, although he never lost the patience with me. Then, on the last afternoon, something clicked. I caught a small wave, pushed myself up and actually stayed on my feet for about five seconds, and a couple of people on the beach even cheered.

Beforehand I'd been genuinely nervous, but by the end I was completely hooked. I was aching all over for days afterwards, and I didn't regret a second of it. I'm already planning to go back next summer, and this time for a week.

The first time I ever tried surfing was last August, in Taghazout, a fishing village just north of Agadir that's turned into something of a pilgrimage site for surfers. I'd spent whole afternoons there as a kid watching them, but I'd never once set foot on a board.

The push came from my cousin Yassine, who instructs at one of the surf camps. He'd been trying to talk me into it for years, and I'd always wriggled out of it, partly because I'm a fairly hesitant swimmer and partly, if I'm honest, because I didn't want to look ridiculous. Then I turned twenty, and it struck me that if I kept putting it off, I'd become the sort of person who never tries anything. So I caught the bus down from Marrakech for three days.

The first morning was a lesson in humility. The board was unwieldy, the paddling was exhausting, and the waves seemed to take a personal interest in flinging me back onto the sand. I lost count of how many times I wiped out, and Yassine, to his eternal amusement, filmed most of it. But on the final afternoon it all came together: I caught a modest wave, got to my feet and rode it for perhaps five glorious seconds before toppling off.

What I felt was a mixture of disbelief and pure elation, and a strange pride in having done something I'd been quietly afraid of. My shoulders ached for the best part of a week, but I came home with the bug. I'm already saving for a longer stay next summer.