My dad often proudly told the story of my first swimming lesson at the age of 4, when I jumped into the pool before the instructor had even finished talking. He always took credit for my lack of fear, as he apparently threw me into the river when I was just 2 years old (back in the days before the river turned toxic) to get me used to the water. I swam across the river by the time I was 10, cajoled by the same man who had reassured me that I could rest any time I wanted, then held the lifesaver just out of reach the whole entire way. I guess I have my dad to thank for my affinity of water.
I had not seen the ocean until I was 11 years old, when we took a family trip to Shenzhen right before immigrating to the US. I was intrigued by the taste of salty water, until I choked on plenty of it, unused to swimming in the waves. As we flew across the Atlantic, and I pressed my nose against the window for as long as I could see the vast blue through the clouds. I was in awe of the ocean.
One of my first projects in junior high school was in ESL world geography, where we were asked to make a collage of our home countries. That was my first encounter with National Geographic magazine, and as I searched through the stacks I came across one called Sea Monsters. Five years later during my lifeguard training, I quit halfway through because I couldn’t complete the activity of going down to 10 feet to bring up some weights. As I got down to 10 feet, the world became silent and the water an eerie shade of blue, and all I can think of were the sea monsters I saw in National Geographic.
That’s probably why diving was not on my radar of things to do until a couple of years ago, when a friend insisted that it would be something I love. I was already in Thailand on my destination world trip, and decided to check out the islands and get my open water certification while I’m at it. I picked the island of Koh Tao, well known for its dive shops. My five days there were pure bliss, as I woke up to the sound of waves every morning just a few meters outside my beach front cabana, and spent the evenings hanging out with other divers and backpackers who seemed to have little care in the world. The days were filled with classroom sessions and adventures under the sea. It’s hard to describe the experience to those who have not been there. The trepidation of not being able to breathe, the weightlessness of being carried off by the waves, and the beautiful colors, of all the amazing creatures that are actually not afraid of us. Us humans, the destroyers of all things! I’ve tried, and will likely continue to try and capture the wonders of the deep blue with each trip, even though I know for the most part it’s in vain. There is really no way to convey with photos and videos the experience of being under water, but you can’t blame a girl for trying.
As I started packing up for my move back to the US, it suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t made the most of my close proximity to clear waters and affordable diving. In a last minute frantic scramble, I booked a trip to Semporna and Sipadan, off the coast of Malaysia. There were complications. I missed my connection, slept at the airport in Kota Kinabalu, lost my favorite neon pink flip flops, and left my camera on the way back. But the experience was incredible.
I stayed at a hostel by the sea, overlooking the “luxury” huts built over the water. There were few guests due to the low tourist season and kidnapping scare (which I conveniently overlooked while booking the trip), and I had the whole room to myself. In the mornings I woke up to the light of the sun hitting the water, and in the evenings I fell asleep despite the laughters and cheers of my new diver friends creeping in from downstairs. During the days we went out to sea. First around Semporna, where we ran into sea turtles around every corner, including a dead one (R.I.P.) and a family of four. Then to Sipadan, cruising with the current next to the famous 800 feet wall where beautiful and nameless (to me) sea creatures call their home.
What Sipadan’s known for above all else is their schools of fishes, barracudas, jack fish, butterfly fish, etc. Of course, being my ignorant self with little planning, I didn’t quite know what to expect. This turned out to be fortunate for me, as it made my first encounter with a school of jack fish that much more amazing. I was so amazed that I swam straight into the pack and scared the fish into two groups that dispersed. After some instructions from my fellow divers during our break, my second encounter with the barracudas was much more successful, as I floated next to the giant school and watched the tornado with awe. Then on my final dive, I got a bit braver, and swam underneath to get inside the school of fish, and I only wish I had the words to describe the unbelievable joy of having thousands of fish swim around me in circles for what seemed like forever.
I once watched this TED talk by Robert Ballard, who told the story of his love for the ocean and the years he spent getting to know the deep sea. “Why are we ignoring the ocean?” He asks. The annual budget for NASA can fund the NOAA (the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, that is) for 1,600 years. It is rather a shame that we spend so much time and effort and money to explore space, when there’s so much we have yet to learn about the underwater world that is right on earth and so deeply connected to our lives. With every single dive, I come to appreciate this world a bit more, and eager to see more of it. I can’t wait until the next time I venture into the deep blue.
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