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If you’ve ever been at the Wasted Talent offices, chances are that you’ve met Erwin before.

Probably because he’s a very good friend of Tito and I, who happen to spend a crazy amount of time there. One thing you need to know about Erwin—on top of the facts that he has a tendency to paint and cut his shoes, and that he listens to Flatbush Zombies around 96% of the time—is that he hates cold more than anyone. The fact that he was rocking a 3/2 when we last surfed together just one week ago, at a time when everybody in France has been surfing in shorts for the past two months should be enough to back up my point. Anyway, I brought this point as it could probably explain what happened this winter, and how we ended up filming this little clip;

Last winter in France was a bit of a blur. 

A rather wet blur in fact, resulting in a never ending surge of rain that kept everybody at home, twiddling their thumbs while getting fat on cheese.

It’s in these moments that our expatriate island boys’ nerves are put to the test, and Erwin’s and I’s didn’t last long. Our eyes were glued on the maps, and soon enough we were headed towards a country far south, which we won’t reveal the name of—but that will no doubt look familiar to those who can read the signs. 

Upon arrival, a piece of paper with instructions were given to us. We were told to take the west road. The one leading to that infamous town that was once a gold mine, far behind the mountains. « Continue straight upon crossing the 14th bridge—the blue one—and don’t stop until you spot the hill of the eternal rainbow » it read.

That was the indication that we would be near our destination: A hotel where the grass was bright green and the oceans folds were warm and hollow. We had to show up at noon in order to meet the owner of the place. « She will be sunbathing in a pink umbrella » our guide told us. That’s when we knew we were at the end of the road:

Fahrenheit Inn. 

©Wasted Talent Magazine
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