Labor Day

Well, we had yet another Costa Rican excuse to go to the beach this past long weekend - Labor Day. It appears that on May 1 while we were dancing around the May Poles of our youth with images of flowers and flowing skirts in our heads and Ring around the Rosie on our voices, much of the rest of the world had morphed the pagan rite of Spring into a celebration of workers (trabajadors) and the advent of labor unions.

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So we joined them all at the beach after only a half day of school on Thursday. On Friday Isaiah had a birthday pool party to attend and we whiled away the afternoon playing Scrabble with friends while the kids swam. Micah went to his friend's ranch for the weekend and rode on an intense water slide, shot a pistol, and watched a cow give birth. Saturday I took Isaiah and Bella to a new Marriott with a large group of our friends from school to play in their enormous pool on the beach while Christiana took her SAT's. And Sunday we had our final open water dives scheduled for our scuba certification.

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After a day of blessed cloudiness on Saturday night it rained for the first time since early November, if you don't count one brief and spontaneous shower we had a month or so ago... We have rarely even seen one cloud in the sky since the deluge of the rainy season ended around my birthday last year. But after the hottest of days and the building of heat and clouds for the past two weeks, the skies finally opened up with a full performance of thunder and lightning and the power went out and the unfamiliar smell of wet dust and dirt filled our nostrils while our ferocious guard dog, Duncan, cowered inside at our feet. After recovering from the initial shock of falling agua, we quickly scurried about shutting car windows, moving furniture, picking clothes off the line, then pinched ourselves and settled down to play cards by candlelight and head lamps.

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We have avoided using the global warming machines in our house, air conditioning, for most of our 8 months or so here but the past few weeks have found us holed up inside feeling guilty for suddenly cancelling out on our outdoor living while the cooling machines hummed away and ruined the future of the planet for the sake of our short term comfort. It was just too hot to think and the sweat dripped off even my fingertips as I typed. One day the week before last I think I hit the apex of the heat when I shut myself in my bedroom with my laptop and 100 Years Of Solitude, finally able to think only with the refreshing electric coolness blowing over me. With the rain, the temperatures have thankfully dropped and the howlers are happy to have freshly rinsed meals after wearing their teeth down by chewing on leaves coated with road dust for months now.

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Sunday when we awoke it was still cloudy and sprinkling but we set off bright and early to dive anyway. Andy had taken sea sickness medication, luckily, as it was rough with large swells as soon as we hit open water. Our destination was the Catalina Islands, about 30 minutes or so off the coast. All year we have been looking at this group of big rocks sticking up in the ocean and now, at last, we were to see them up close and personal. Like everything on and in the sea, they looked closer than they were and one clearly could not kayak out to them, as some guest or other had once inquired. We arrived at the 2 largest islands and prepared ourselves to step off the boat. Both are major bird rookeries but interestingly only one is covered in cactus while the other had nothing but scrubby grass, causing much speculation as to why.

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The waves were crashing on the rocks when we entered the water and split up into 3 groups of divers. Andy, Christiana and I were in a group of 6 with 2 friends and Julian, one of our instructors. As soon as we got in the water the boat backed away, a little close for comfort with the swells it was riding and I found it difficult to kick away from it which scared me. We started our descent into the blue water and were making our way down to the bottom when the instructor signalled us to surface. "Where are Andy and Christiana?" he asked the three of us in his Argentinian accent. "They were right below us," we answered, but there was nothing but fish and water now visible from the surface when we looked down with our masks. "We will descend a little and look for them," he said. We descended about half way but saw no black wetsuited bodies anywhere and he signalled for us to surface. They had vanished into the blue. Another group was off away from us and he called to them to ask if they had seen them but they said no. He got very annoyed, finally calling to the boat to return to look for their bubbles while we drifted rapidly away from where we lost them and I started to panic, realizing how quickly they could disappear in that vast ocean with its quixotic currents.

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By the time the boat signaled to us that they spotted their heads surfacing off in the distance maybe 10 minutes later an eternity had passed for me. My insides had turned into their own little private shipwreck. When we were all reunited as a group again they said they had followed the other group by mistake. I decided I was feeling too sick and could not do this dive, swimming through the rough seas to the boat instead to recover. I had instant running belly, not easy with 2 wetsuits and a bathing suit and one head with no toilet paper onboard. Soon we spotted Andy's head bobbing on the surface again and picked him up; he could not get his ears to clear on the second descent. So he and I sat the dive out on the boat and rocked in the swells and I felt progressively more awful. I was relieved once everyone was back onboard and we were motoring over to the Sombreros, a couple of pinnacle shaped rocks (photo), for our second dive. They all cheerfully ate cookies while I struggled to get ahold of myself.

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Once we arrived and geared up again I was really fighting with myself to go. On the outside I appeared ready but inside I was running away. My stomach was in spasms and my weight belt was digging into it. I nodded and stepped off the edge of the boat when it was my turn, having chosen Christiana as my partner this time. Swimming over to our group I held her hand but was struggling to maintain my buoyancy in spite of inflating my BC. I felt like I could not move easily and I could not breathe. I told Julian that I didn't think my regulator was functioning properly as I sucked hard on it with little results. He tried it quickly and said it was fine.

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We started our descent and my panic rose quickly. I let go of Christiana who patted my hand reassuringly and began to go deeper but I could not breathe and I felt incredibly heavy and unable to ascend. I forgot all about clearing my ears while I struggled, which is usually all I am focusing on. Julian kept signaling me to come down and I gave him the thumbs up, meaning I am going up. He shook his head no and signalled me to look at him but that made me panic even more. I put some air in my BC, a no-no, with him shaking his head no, but that was the only way I could make any progress up to the surface. I have to say this was one of the most awful feelings I have ever had. I felt like I was going to suffocate and sink into a watery grave below.

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I managed to surface with him behind me and I told him I was not going to do this dive either. Christiana and the group were waiting for him and I did not want them to get separated again so he signalled for the boat to return. I told him to go, I would make it to the boat just fine, happy to be back in the world of ambient air breathers. After climbing onboard I found out my weight belt had 17 pounds instead of the 10 I usually use, so that explained some of my inability to move freely or surface with an additional extra one fifth of my body weight strapped on. But more than anything I was left with an excruciating feeling of panic that I have been trying to reckon with ever since. It was the first time in my life I was uncomfortable in the water, which is usually my favorite place to be. I was the last person I was worried about as I was the only one doing a recertification. With echoes of my younger voice in my head bravely extolling the pleasures of scuba diving, I wondered: Was it age? Hormones? Fear? A sudden attack of claustrophobia? The weather?

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Everyone surfaced with happy tales of eels and nudibranchs and one small shark. On the way back to the marina we were accompanied by a school of dolphins, sleek and speedy on our bow wake. But my day was shot. We went to breakfast with everyone tho my stomach was still very upset. Christiana and I walked home along the beach - me wearing a hat, sunglasses, 2 long-sleeved lycra shirts and a pair of long sweatpants as I was still chilled - the most clothing I have worn in 8 months here by far! I looked like one of those people who can not have any sun exposure but somehow had a tan underneath. The day remained overcast and I did not warm up until we were almost home, a couple miles later. We lay on the couch, exhausted, talking about colleges for Christiana while watching The Phantom of the Opera, a welcome lazy gray Sunday afternoon for us all.

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Today is Monday, a new day. The sun is shining again and I am still trying to shake this lingering knot in my gut, the place I hold my anxiety. I am sure I will strap on my gear eventually but for now I am in no great hurry to face my fears for the sake of looking at a few fish. Maybe it will be better for me to dive alone without the worry of my family down there with me, like it used to be in the carefree days of my youth. Maybe a sunny, calm day is what I need. When I climbed onboard the boat after quitting the first dive, one of the crew said to me, "I am glad I am not a Mom. When my Mom is worried she says her feet ache." I nodded, sympathetically. For us Moms, every day is Labor Day.

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K3