Snorkeling

Snorkeling

What a beautiful art. So simple and natural, I try to imagine ancient persons with just a chute of bamboo and a free afternoon. We were escorted off the pier by Juan, a red speedo wearing stocky Mexican with the lung capacity of a blue whale, the boat driver who was more whale like and less lung capacity, and Juan's spry son who was quick to offer Corona's and who's English was not quite proficient enough to engage in conversation. Off we went at the usual pace of barely moving, south down the coast of Cozumel.
The girls and I rode on the roof where another young couple was already posted up.

I love boats. I've been on them since long before I can remember, and rumor has it that when my mother was two weeks overdue, grandpa's solution was to take her out on the boat. It worked. I was born that night. I imagine my infant self getting jealous of all the water based fun people were having. Now, lying on my stomach, facing aft, pitching slightly from the nudge of other boats, warm air fluffing my shorts up like parachutes, I remembered what I miss about water. It is the heartbeat of this earth. Most times gentle and soothing, occasionally harsh and angry. Today it was my best friend.

This boat was 25 feet long, well used but not tarnished. Glass windows provided a view of the ocean floor that could not have been more than fifteen feet down. Another 15 people accompanied the five of us, and we began our journey under an overcast sky. After 45 minutes the show began. A large uproar began below when Juan started shouting something about money flying off the boat. Everyone aboard began questioning each other about where their cash was, who's money it could have been. Later we realized that, like most other things in Tourist Mexico, nothing is as it seems. The 'lost money' was just a show, a few dollars tied to a weight. Mary spotted the scam, but Juan was not a trickster, he was a showman. And instead of feeling slighted, we felt entertained.

Soon we pulled up to an alcove of breathtaking water tinted an unnatural aquamarine, even the overcast sky easily pierced the ocean floor. Here we were given basic snorkel instruction, which took about eight seconds, and off into the water we went. The first time I put my face underwater and tried to breathe my whole body seized up. Mmy lungs refused to believe in the technology of a plastic tube. Back up, take the snorkel out, look around, breathe, try again. Splash, nothing, can't breathe, back up. Repeat a couple more times and then finally my lungs allowed me one, long, slow breath. Again, and now I could see. Juan, ever the entertainer, swam down and grabbed a starfish bigger than my head. Here we stayed for just a few minutes and soon we were off to the reef.

The second time around came much easier. The fish blood in me came out instantly. Watching Juan dive at depths of 30 feet, grabbing live conch shells and bringing them to the surface, showing utmost respect by gently placing them back on the ocean floor, I was inspired. With my head bubbling above the water, I began peppering him with questions, which he answered enthusiastically in his excited spanglish.

"Hey Amigo! How do I go under?"

"You must take two deep breaths"

-ooooshhh-
-ooooshhh-

"You must plug your nose, and blow hard into your nose, and make your ears pop"

"Ok, gracias."

-ooooshhh-
-ooooshhh-

Plugged my nose, dove, and two feet down my head felt like it was a balloon about to pop. Back on the surface I chased Juan down.

"Hey Amigo! It hurts my head when I go deep"

"You must blow very hard, keep blowing when you go deep."

"Ok, gracias Amigo."

-ooooshhh-
-ooooshhh-

With a splash the whole world was silent, just the gentle drone of the boat 50 yards away. My head still ached but my ears did pop as Juan had predicted. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Schools of fish swam past at no more than arms length. A metropolis of coral stretched out like a sprawling city. Fish of all sizes, shapes, colors, and temperaments swam around us in all directions. It felt as if I had stumbled into a bar filled with all of my old and forgotten friends. It felt like home.

Juan continued to dazzle, diving down 20 feet, blowing large water rings and swimming through them. At one point he dove 25 feet down, disappeared under the reef, and traversed a cave at the ocean floor 40 feet across, appearing on the other side without looking hurried. I continued to challenge myself, using Juan as motivation I dove down deep and deeper with each attempt, staying down longer, getting within inches of electric blue Juvenile Damselfish, coral that looked like a brain, ugly duckling sea bass. I needed fifty eyes, and ten sets of lungs. It was too much, I kept staring down, bobbing up and down like a log, trying to let my eyes be a sponge.

Soon Juan suckered me into having some fun with him. He began showing how to blow smoke rings in the water, and try as I might I could only muster measly bubble explosions. Dragging us around excitedly, every few minutes he would pop his head out and shout "OK EVEREEEBODEEE, VAMANOS! I see a turtle!" At one point he was trying to pry a crab the size of my torso off a rock, but the crab prevailed and Juan let him be. Good and tired, fully satisfied, we climbed back on the boat and Juan handed out tequila shots and Corona's to all who were willing. With Bob Marley blasting over the boombox, a Corona in my hand, and a life changing experience under my belt, I was all smiles.

We got back to the pier just in time for an explosion of a sunset, and with that our day was complete. Dinner and drinks, late night ribbing, Wednesday was in the books.

Today was a good day.