Limits and boundaries have always amazed me. When I say always, I mean it literally; from the moment I was capable of forming coherent thoughts, I started pushing, ever so slightly, the edges of the bubble I was in, eager to know what could be found beyond it. Life events managed to pop that bubble for me very early in time, in a not so peaceful manner, but I adapted. I walked the razor-sharp line, sometimes in the utter dark, terrified, but I kept going. And I made it this far. The knowledge of myself I've gained, and of humanity as a whole, I wouldn't trade for anything in the world. Without all of its pieces, known and unknown, the puzzle that I am wouldn't be complete. I wouldn't be me.
I was a curious little being when I was a toddler. My hyperactivity dates far back, even before I learned how to read. I would ask question after question, unable to temper my impulses yet, and I wouldn't let anyone think. When the delicious abyss of letters took on meaning for me, the ability to turn my eyes inward was added to my toolkit, and boy did I sharpen that one with time. Looking back, I'm always surprised by the depth of thoughts that this tiny pixie I was would carry everywhere. She still wakes me up at night, cracking up at her wittiness and transparent joy. Unbothered, untouchable. Intact.
All this very personal prelude goes to show you a bit of the character of the child I was when I first became obsessed with the ocean, and its secrets. I still remember finding out that on the beaches we used to visit, right where the waves softly kissed the shore, started a whole new world that existed under the surface. For hours I could stand staring at the deep blue horizon, wondering, creating tales of monsters and mermaids. I knew nothing about the creatures and life forms that thrived beneath the surface, but it piqued my curiosity instantly, and I would carry that motivation until my college years. The sea called my name, and even though I got lost a few times around the way, I came closer and closer to it with the passing of time.
For as long as I can remember, the view of the ocean has fascinated me. When I was little, we used to travel rather frequently to Isla de Margarita, where I would spend my days on the beach or dream about going to the beach. I would stay in the water, swimming on the shallow waters, all across the shoreline and back. One time, when I was about ten, I got caught by the undertow and almost drowned. I have to admit that ever since then the fascination comes mixed with terror, and even though I had taken lessons as a child, I stopped feeling capable of swimming in the ocean.
Something I'm not very proud of is that for a few years I let circumstances guide my every move, and I was really just a little speck of dust traveling the currents of the wind, shifting, changing as I touched new borders. It wasn't until late 2017 that I was confronted with a choice, the possibility of devoting my professional studies to the wonders of the ocean. During a field trip, standing on Patanemo beach alongside Aldo, one of the greatest professors I've ever met, I just knew I had to go down that path, as it would take me closer to myself and to where I wanted to be. So I said yes, I would focus my energy on pursuing a career in Marine Biology. There were things I just needed to know and see, up close. And I took the opportunity to do so, without thinking twice.
By the time I joined the Experimental Ecology Laboratory at the Universidad Simón Bolívar, where Aldo was the head and lead researcher, I didn't even know how to swim. Speaking of my love for contradictions, for months I was the ugly duckling among seasoned marine biologists with a lifetime of experience in the sea. I just didn't fit, but I've never been one to shy away from hard work and I was determined to achieve the goals I had set for myself. The looks of distrust and derision of my fellow companions didn't matter to me, or at least I tried to make it so. I was hell-bent on making that particular dream a reality: the conquering of the depths.
For months I trained my breathing, as well as my cardio and endurance. Day after day I'd make the trip to the University, on public transport, which didn't function well at all. I would stay there working at the EEL, all day, analyzing data on the computer or just browsing through the physical copies of previously published papers. More often than not, I couldn't bring my own lunch, but I would keep a smile on and shake it off. For months I stayed in the shadows, quietly observing and learning, picking every little detail I could. I needed to be ready, to feel capable, and so I had to expand my toolkit.
The day came when they told us there would be a few openings at the yearly Scuba Diving Course that a fellowship in the University used to organize. They worked with the renowned Scuba Schools International (SSI) certification, an opportunity too good to let it slide. It was somewhat costly, of course. USD 200, an amount that might sound like nothing to some (here or abroad), but for me, it was pretty close to impossible to get it back then. I spent days racking my brains trying to come up with a solution, not wanting to ask someone else for help or to borrow the money. In the end, the beautiful soul that is my grandma, knowing how important this was for me, asked for the money on my behalf and gifted it to me. There it was, the chance of satisfying my curiosity about the ocean, which came with a myriad of possibilities for professional development in the future.
The cost of the Scuba Diver certification included the lending of all the equipment we would need, as well as a few weeks of theoretical training, so we could be as prepared as possible to face the dangers of the activity. Some of the surviving skills and valuable information I learned there, I still think about them and apply them any chance I get. What you don't practice, you forget. Before I knew it, the day of our final test in open water had arrived, the last step before achieving the prestigious badge of a professional diver. One of the perks of having studied Biology is the great places you get a chance to visit, and we couldn't have done our final test in a more magical place.
The beach we went to, Chichiriviche de la Costa, is a hidden paradise located in the remote areas of the Vargas State. To get there, visitors must tour the sinuous and steep roads of a mountain, downhill in the direction of the ocean. During the trip, you can appreciate the surrounding vegetation vibrating with the marine scenery. I had the tightest knot on my stomach, but I still managed to soak in every detail of the view. You know you've reached your destination when the panoramic shows you a fascinating landscape in the form of a half-moon of sand, gently touched by the waves.
The morning of our programmed immersions, the sea appeared calm, the sand warmed our bare feet and there was a salty, humid taste in the air. There, I could breathe, fully, despite being so nervous about the first moments in the sea. The first thing we did was to get on our wet suits. I was lucky enough to pick one that was almost new, and they have a particularity when they are: the neoprene bubbles inside of the fabric are very round, due to the lack of use, and so they help you maintain buoyancy with less effort. For some, it doesn't work that well, because due to the variability in the body fat percentage from one human to the next, we all fall into a different level of floating skills. I always struggle with floatability, so having the help of the neoprene suit was simply amazing.
The initial test was to just snorkel around a little, recon, if I may; a swimming exercise to warm up and get used to the area. Right before entering the water, I hadn't found out yet that the suit would aid so much, and I was dead scared. But as soon as I got in the water, all that was left was calmness and a quiet joy inside of me. We free-dived and did a bit of apnea for about half an hour, soaking in all the details, enjoying every second of the experience. Then, we got back to the beach to regain our strength and prepare for what came next.
On my first immersion with full gear, where we went about 8 meters below the surface, I struggled to feel in control. My ears were hurting so bad I couldn't focus. Of course, being underwater, it was much more difficult to communicate what was going on. My breathing turned shallow, and I got really dizzy and anxious. Pretty much like everyday life for some; believe me, I know. Then, on the second immersion, where we went about 18 meters below the surface, I practiced the compensation tips an instructor gave me, and it went perfectly. We were deep enough so that my lungs could start to fill and empty on their own, without any conscious effort. Sounds strange, I know. I can't explain how it feels, the way your body just breathes without you doing a single thing, but fully aware of each and every one of the steps. Right then and there, wrapped so gently and lovingly by the dark blue, I wasn't alone and I felt safe.
During the last dive, we got to see how the depths of this beach boast incredibly colourful marine forms. From the numerous corals that grow in our Caribbean sea to a multitude of tiny, lively fishes, you're captivated by the frenzied life that a lull surface can conceal. Very much like people, don't you think?
After enjoying first-hand the majesty of the ocean depths, divers must emerge to rest. In Chichi, as we often refer to this place, it's imperative to do so whilst sitting in one of the picturesque restaurants that some locals manage by the beachside. There, reclined in a plastic chair, the rhythmic beating of the tide and the aroma of the sea breeze transported me to a bliss state. I had made it. Something else to cross off the list in flying colours. And from my own experience, I can testify that there is not a greater moment to delight your senses, and your stomach, with a generous amount of empanadas and malta. Paradise on earth, I tell you!
This post responds to yet another amazing weekly topic, proposed by Galen for the Weekend Engagement. You can find the original post, containing all the prompts and rules, here. If you're reading this and haven't participated, kindly allow me to encourage you to do so. I promise you'll have fun! And if you've already written your entry, be sure to check other authors' take on the topic. There are a lot of interesting views out there.
Sources of the images:
📷 by Francesco Ungaro
📷 available here
📷 by Sebastian Pena Lambarri
📷 by Sarah Lee
📷 by Gastro No-mía • La guía
I'd like to thank you for reading this. I hope my words resonated with you in some way. If they did, or even if they didn't, I'd like to further connect with you, so I invite you to drop a comment and I'll answer it as soon as I can.
