They say that once surfing is truly understood and refined, it becomes part of you. In the case of Nicolas Marusa, the saying proves entirely true. When you think of a board, your mind drifts to vast crystalline oceans, to gentle swells lifting and eclipsing the horizon, to experiences set far from everything and everyone. Marusa’s trajectory, however, reveals a very different kind of path: one carved in the heart of Munich, in the static currents of the Eisbachwelle, regarded by many as the most consistent, powerful, and iconic river wave ever found at the core of a major city—a wave that in recent years has unfortunately been marked by a series of serious challenges, including the tragic death of a surfer and the apparent disappearance of its signature currents following the river’s annual cleaning.

But our editorial focus is not on assessing the present state of this place; rather, it aims to understand the impact these waters — and surfing itself — have had on a young interpreter of the waves, and on the world that surrounds him today. Born and raised as an urban surfer, Marusa seems to have absorbed both the artistic sensibility of the discipline and the creative, fashion-driven pulse of Bavaria’s capital. A blend that now places him in a hybrid and meaningful dimension. Because as his relationship with surfing has matured—leading him increasingly away from the Eisbach’s waters and toward oceanic horizons—this athlete has also found ways to expand his eclectic substance, diving into visual storytelling and design. This conversation guides us into his contemporary spot.

How did you get in touch with surfing culture? 

“I grew up in Munich, which isn’t exactly known as a surfing city: at least, not in the traditional sense. But even as a small child, I was fascinated seeing surfers riding their bikes around the city. Eventually, I came across the Eisbachwelle and was instantly hooked. I kept telling my mom, “I have to try this.” I was a bit too young at first, but around age 10, I found the second wave at the Eisbach: a smaller wave for beginners. I grabbed an old boogie board lying around from a holiday and just jumped in. From that moment, I was hooked. Seeing it for years, imagining it, and finally feeling the wave beneath me, it was an addictive moment. That’s where I started, practicing on the second wave until I eventually moved on to the first wave once I got a bit better.”

We’re always curious about the little details that stick in an athlete’s mind: the small things that make you fall in love with a sport. What were those details for you?

“For me, it all came together when I surfed the first wave: the one everyone knows worldwide. I instantly noticed the community, which is what makes the place so unique and alive. Even as an 11-year-old, I could see the hierarchy: the older surfers who had been riding there for decades and marked their spots. Sometimes they would tell young surfers like me, “Not here, it’s too dangerous.” Seeing that, and being part of that culture, really hooked me. The Eisbachwelle wasn’t just about surfing: it was a gathering of people from all walks of life, sharing a unique love for river surfing. One of my goals was always to get to know the older surfers, hear their stories, and understand how they made the place so special.”

What was it like growing up as a surfer in Munich?

“It was perfect. Surfing a standing wave gives you far more practice than you would get in the ocean: balancing, learning the nuances… The Eisbach became my daily escape from reality. I’d leave school, forget my phone, and just surf. Even with people watching, it was pure focus: just one wave could make your day. That’s why it sticks with so many people in the city; it’s right there in the middle of everything, yet it offers a total escape.”

Did you ever imagine that this would lead you to where you are now—traveling the world, surfing professionally—or did that just happen along the way?

“That came along the way. As I got better, I became more competitive. Contests began to appear in river surfing, and over about five or six years, I started competing against friends I grew up with. The competitive side became part of it, but the sport itself—its uniqueness and what it can push yourself to do—was always the main draw. I never imagined the opportunities that would come from it, but seeing how it all unfolded has been incredible.”

Aside from competitions, you’ve also built an aesthetic and creative identity. How did you start exploring the worlds outside of surfing, like fashion?

“I grew up with two moms who were and still are very passionate about fashion, so I was exposed to it early on. The philosophy at home was simple: wear what feels right to you. By 13 or 14, I was experimenting with really unconventional clothes: like a huge Yohji Yamamoto coat that reached my feet. I wore it to school just because it felt natural, even if it got weird looks. That’s where my love for fashion started, learning to express myself through clothing. When I was 14, I got scouted by a modeling agency, which gave me a proper introduction to the fashion world. From there, I did a few jobs, made contacts, and it all grew organically. In the past few years, it’s been amazing to merge my two passions—surfing and fashion—and see how they intersect in urban surfing culture in Munich.”

Traditionally, surf style is associated with cult brands. But you’re bringing a fresh perspective. How do you experience this duality between the traditional surf style and this new wave of aesthetic expression?

“I’ve always been drawn to surfers who didn’t follow the conventional route. People like Craig Anderson and other Australian surfers: watching their video parts, you can see how they dress and approach filming almost like creating art. That’s really inspiring. And the same goes for personal style. Of course, big brands are important if you want support, but the clothing aspect of surf culture runs deeper than the commercial side. Over the years, it’s become more commercialized: big brands, contest T-shirts, and the like. The original spirit of surfing, where gear and clothing were more about quality and individuality than branding, has gotten a bit lost. These days, there’s also more conversation about sustainability in surfing: surfboards, clothing, and so on. I think the right approach is to focus on high-quality products that last a lifetime, even if they cost a bit more. Surfing has always been about finding your own path, catching waves your way, and that applies to fashion too. Now, personally, I’m hoping to get more involved in the design universe. I recently signed with New Amsterdam, a smaller urban-based brand. I’ve done a few projects before, but now there’s a real opportunity to shape something meaningful. I’m excited to finally contribute creatively, not just surf.”

How have photography and filmmaking shaped you as a surfer and as a creative?

“Photography is a powerful way to tell stories. It doesn’t have to be in a big studio: it’s about capturing moments authentically. A photo can make people feel like they’re part of the experience, understanding the effort it took to get there. Filmmaking is similar. Surfing isn’t just about catching waves: it’s about the journey to the spot, the struggle, the environment, the flow. I’ve been working on my own surf film for some time. It’s a slow process—travel, budgeting, etc.—but I want it to tell a story aesthetically, artistically. It’s not about showing off clothes or gear; it’s about the life and rhythm of surfing itself.”

Given this artistic approach, how do you see the competitive side? Becoming a 3 times German Rapid Surfing Champion is a huge achievement, how does that fit with your perspective?

“It’s tricky. I grew up on standing waves and have always loved ocean surfing, but reaching the highest level requires spending a massive amount of time in the ocean from a young age. For me, it makes more sense to focus on filmmaking and enjoying the sport, rather than pushing solely for competitive results. That said, if opportunities arise, of course I’d consider it, but right now, the focus is on sharing my personal take and feelings about surfing. I enjoy the competitive side, testing yourself under pressure, but I’m more focused on watching the sport evolve. I’ll never completely step away from competition, but my priorities are elsewhere: filmmaking, creativity, and enjoying the process.”

And what about surfing on huge sports platforms, like the Olympics?

“It makes the sport more accessible globally: wave pools can exist in almost any country, but for me, the Olympics aren’t the right place for surfing. Surfing is about that unique feeling when you first stand on a wave: an addiction unlike anything else. Big events risk losing that essence. Competing under those conditions isn’t the same as surfing for yourself.”

What about the differences between surfing in Munich and other places? How does it feel compared to other spots you’ve traveled to?

“It’s completely different. In Munich, I know every inch of the wave: the falls, the turns, everything. It’s familiar. The ocean is a challenge because nothing is familiar: you have to adapt, find new limits, and push yourself. That’s what excites me most. The Eisbach wave has limits that are already explored to some extent, whereas the ocean is unpredictable. I’d love to explore bigger waves in the future, maybe go to Portugal with some friends and push myself in heavy water. Of course, my family will worry, but that’s part of the thrill. It’s about getting out there, feeling the power, and really testing yourself.”

Is the musical side of surf culture still relevant, or has it lost some of its importance compared to 20 or 30 years ago?

“I’d say it’s definitely less prominent than it used to be. Back in the day, music was a core part of surf films: it set the mood, told the story, and connected with people emotionally. Nowadays, with Instagram clips and quick content, a lot of that emotional storytelling is lost. That said, music still plays a role. It sets the tone and draws the viewer in. Heavy metal might hype you up for an aggressive wave, while slower, more introspective tracks can bring out deep emotions. Personally, I love jazz, which isn’t common in surf culture. But growing up in an urban environment shapes your taste differently than growing up on a French beach, for example.”

More and more people are cross-pollinating surf culture with different perspectives, tastes, and creative approaches, like you are. What’s your take on the state of surf culture today?

“It’s evolving rapidly, sometimes in ways that feel a bit scary. Social media is a big deal: it’s made surfing more visible and accessible, but some of the depth, like the storytelling of trips and surf journeys, gets lost. The core of surfing—why people surf, the connection with nature—will never be lost. But with technological advances and wave pools, some of the original mentality that defined surfing is shifting. It’s a little sad, but maybe that’s just the way things go.” 

Speaking of the future, what goals are you pursuing now?

“First, I want to complete more footage for my film. Planning is coming together, and I hope to capture new and exciting moments. Beyond that, I’m diving deeper into design: bringing creative ideas in fashion to life. I also want to give back to my community. I’m finally in a place where I can start to contribute. We have some events coming up, especially with New Amsterdam, and next year I hope to expand my effort into something bigger, to showcase urban surf culture and inspire people to see what’s possible.”