Caye Caulker – Day 3: Diving Deep
CAYE CAULKER
Day 3: Diving Deep
September 11, 2022
The following morning, Roy went off to work early and I, bursting with giddiness, made my way to… drum roll… scuba class! While planning my itinerary, I’d listed scuba diving as a must-do in Belize, so I booked the course without thinking too much about it. After all the snorkelling tours in Mexico and the previous day in Hol Chan, you can imagine how elated I was to be embarking on this new adventure!
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As excited as I was, a part of me also chided myself for not doing it sooner. I’d lived in Malta – an island surrounded by the Mediterranean Sea on all sides – since I was naught but a zygote. I’d been fascinated by all things marine since I was a kid. I’ve always been an avid (yet recreational) swimmer, and I used to spend hours watching sea life documentaries and snorkelling with my dad. Of course, my favourite element has always been water, my favourite colour is blue, my favourite gemstone is sapphire, and my favourite Pokémon is shiny Milotic. Also, my two life-long (yet impossible) dreams are to become a merman and a pirate.Â
I’d always had a calling for the sea, yet somehow, as I grew up, I kinda outgrew it. I stopped snorkelling, I stopped collecting seashells, I stopped fishing, and, worst of all, I stopped noticing it. The sea was just there to swim in and to have barbecues close to it, nothing more. Somehow, I had grown indifferent to its wonders.Â
With Malta being such a famous spot for scuba diving and water sports, I’d often feel disappointed in myself whenever foreigners just assumed I did all those things. But this was soon gonna change. Caye Caulker, I had read, would be the ideal place to get my diving certification. Not only is it part of the Mesoamerican Barrier Reef – home to some of the most incredible diving spots in the world – but it’s also relatively cheap, and the dive schools here are really good. And so, I’d be adding one of the coolest things I’d ever set my mind to doing to my skillset. I’d be doing my PADI Open Water Diver course at Frenchie’s; one of the most renowned dive centres in Caye Caulker.
I walked down to the pier where they were stationed, all abuzz and ready for action. I was a bit nervous, given how clumsy I’ve always been, but mostly excited overall. I was super ready to get into the water and start diving. Only that’s not how diving really works. It’s not something you can just jump into. In fact, the first day comprised a series of videos that lasted around five hours. Yep, that’s right – five hours!
I was led to a shack on the pier, handed a manual and a TV remote control, and forced into a low-lying wooden chair where I’d be expected to spend the rest of my day. The yawning practically started the second I pressed play, with the video seemingly shot in the nineties and the acting comparable to those in commercials. Then boredom gave way to anxiety as they started listing all the equipment I’d have to familiarise myself with and learn how to use. Then anxiety led to frustration as they started explaining all the physics involved. Then frustration led to dejectedness as they explained all the skills I’d have to learn.
“Why am I doing this to myself? I’m on holiday!” I kept chastising myself. It felt exactly like being back in school. And the worst part was, there’d be a test – exactly like being back in school! I bet the Diving God in Tulum didn’t have to go through that much crap to do it, huh?
Acceptance
It wasn’t just the videos that ruined my mood though. It also happened to be the eleventh of September, a date that brings much grief with it. It had been five years… Five whole years had passed since my father’s death.
My dad was, for lack of better terms, the only family member I actually cared about – loved, even. It took me a while to get over it, and even so, I still think losing him was one of the things that shaped me. On most days, admittedly, I’d forget he even existed in the first place. Life moves too fast and, more often than not, I have too many things on my plate to even think about things that had been but aren’t anymore. I’d think about him only when someone asked me something about my family or when something that reminded me of him popped up.
Like, for example, when I’m travelling and I stumble upon something unbelievably beautiful, I instinctively look up at the heavens and think of him, feeling so grateful – a habit I picked up once I started travelling using his money after his passing. Back then, I could only afford to travel because of him, and so much of my gratitude would be redirected to him. Now, it’s all my doing, it’s the work I’ve put in, yet somehow, much like a Pavlovian reflex, I still feel the need to thank him. That said, on most days, it’s as if he’d never even been part of my life. His voice, his face, his everything seem to have disappeared – buried somewhere in the depths of my mind. But on the eleventh of September, his memories resurface and come alive.
That date has yet another special meaning – and no, I’m not talking about 9/11. The eleventh of September also happens to be the day before my birthday. Now mind you, I don’t usually care much for my birthday. In fact, I dread its coming and going. It means I’m getting older and I’m running out of time. All the good things that come with age — say, wisdom and stability — are just things old people say to themselves in order to sleep at night. I don’t wanna grow old. I wanna be young, strong and healthy forever. That’s the only way I could travel all across the world and practice medicine. But I’m nothing if not realistic, and so, every year, I do my best to just let the day go by without much thought.
But being all alone in a country on the other side of the world on such a bleak day, I found it harder than I usually do. It’s not the first time I’ve spent my birthday all alone whilst travelling – hell, I usually go out of my way to do so. But somehow, this time round, it didn’t feel the same. I guess it might have been the fact that I had already been on the road for quite a while, and while I wasn’t feeling anything close to homesickness, I did miss my friends. Friends who would usually offer words of comfort and solace on the eleventh, friends who would insist on me celebrating the twelfth despite my many objections.
Accompanied by my solitude and grief, I retreated to my room. I spent the afternoon catching up on my writing and wallowing. I thought, perhaps, watching the sunset at Iguana Reef would make me feel better — that somehow, the colours of the sky and the sea would ease my pain. A lot of pressure to pin down on one sunset, surely. Then again, there’s nothing quite like a Caribbean sunset. And in fact, it did indeed soothe my soul.
