Le Bocal is a contraction of the expression “local sandbox”.
We distinguish the “jar” from the “local” from the spotlight.
The local expects nothing more from other surfers than a certain amount of respect, concerning the rules of priority and surfing conviviality. Genuine locals don’t waste their time proclaiming themselves as such, as that would be a little futile, and they probably consider that there are more important things in life. It would be like spending the day declaring – “Mum, thanks for laying my eggs near the spot”, or “Dad, thanks for moving to the beach” – which, all in all, isn’t very rewarding.
The “bocal ” is an individual who thrives on being local, although this status is often questionable, and as such claims rights to a surf spot. Of course, to counterbalance this, there should be duties: educating people about dangerous behavior, teaching the young about the dangers of the ocean, assisting people in danger, and so on. Unfortunately, this altruism is often so egocentric that it drifts into ranting about the unknown surfer, claiming priority on all waves, demonstrations of aggression, jealousy of those who make a living from surfing, and teaching younger surfers a form of chauvinism and contempt for surfers considered non-local.
In addition, the jar refers to grandma’s jam jars, evoking the Australian redneck, which could be translated as “backwoods twerp”. The jar is also the receptacle for all those fermentations, those little everyday frustrations that find their outlet in the rejection of the other, the desire to create an identity as a local surfer with local status, like the barnacle clinging to its rock.
For example, they declare themselves to be the guardians of a purity stemming from the so-called golden age of surfing, and reject the economic benefits of surfing development and its corollary, tourism. But at the same time, they don’t hesitate to throw themselves wholeheartedly into the surfing business if the opportunity presents itself! Or to become a tourist in his own right by traveling abroad, in particular on those boat trips that promise perfect waves with no contact with the locals.
Indeed, there aren’t many gurus who haven’t succumbed to the allure of consumer society. The jar consumes waves that it vainly intends to keep for itself.
The jar does serve a purpose, however: some characters are only capable of civility if they feel the fear of the stick. So the local hotpot, even if it’s just a myth, at least serves to temper certain disrespectful and inconsiderate behaviors.
It’s like with mosquitoes: we tend to think of them as pests, whereas they’re actually part of a balanced ecosystem.
There are also variations in localism: the hot local on a dangerous, mythical spot such as Pipeline is different from the local who would play sheriff on a harmless French beach break, giving full meaning to the expression “sandbox local”.
