Beach(ing) Around

I could never understand why a lot of people absolutely LOVE swimming in the beach. Sure, I love the beach and all that, but just the feel of it, the look, the freshness and beauty of it. But that’s that. My attitude could be best explained by, first, I grew up in a place where you could go swimming like every day and it has lost its thrill, second, I don’t know how to swim, and, finally, I’m too afraid of sharks.

Call me ignorant or a joke, fine. But you could never blame me. Blame it all on the people who created Jaws and all those movies that showed sharks eating people like humans do with Pork Lechon. When I was a kid, I saw this movie featuring a killer shark that attacked people even while they were near the shore. That movie left a mark in my already-twisted memory that whenever I’m in the sea, I’m not comfortable at all. Every time something touches or brushes my leg, body or hand, I freak out. I think of either a water-thriving snake or a baby shark. Whenever that happens, I usually scream then run, not swim, towards the seashore only to find out that it was just a stick, a plastic, seaweed or just the body part of my companion/s.

The problem is I am surrounded with people who love the beach – my close friends mostly at the UP Christian Youth Movement. They couldn’t get enough of it that they always plan one trip after another to Zambales, Subic, Puerto Galerra and to where the beaches are. There is a pattern, though, that I’ve seen. Most of them did not grow up in places where beaches are everywhere. And, I dare say, they are what I call the fearless ones. I say that they are fearless because they do not cower from huge waves. In fact, they love it.

Last August, we had a retreat/adventure/gimmick in Zambales. From the day we arrived to the day we departed from the place, rain was pouring (not all the time, though), thus the water was high and the waves monstrous. Thankfully, I was not the only one who do not know how to swim, thus I had companions wading very near the shore. We were perfectly enjoying the beach, scooping the water with both hands as if bathing ourselves, dipping our heads and bodies a lot and crawling once in a while when Ian, the beach lover of all beach lovers, called us to join them in their activity. The activity? Battling the waves with their bodies while holding onto the person next to them. I hesitated, of course. What if I drown? What if a shark suddenly bares his pointy teeth at me? I had two choices: to join them and squeal to my heart’s delight or remain where I was – alone. I ended up doing the former and, boy, what fun! The thing was I swallowed enough sea water that I had a fleeting thought of urine sliding around in my intestines. I brushed the thought aside and concentrated on squealing, but I couldn’t do it anymore. I was becoming more and more paranoid of the gigantic waves coming onto us. I thought of a shark suddenly emerging, circling us. I thought of a shark coming among the gigantic waves then swallowing me whole, not even giving me a chance to scream for help. With that, I turned my back from the flirtation I had with the waves and headed as fast as I could to the shore.

Trust me, I love to learn swimming. Isn’t interest one major factor for a person to learn and enjoy what he or she is learning? Take for example Edmon. He grew up in Bulacan but he knows how to swim and skin-dive (thanks to P.E class) because he plainly loves swimming, while I, the one who grew up in Negros Oriental, do not know anything, not even floating. I would very much like to have for a reason disinterest as the one that deterred me from learning swimming. But, sadly, it’s not. It’s really the monsters lurking in the waters.

I did not want to remain the laughing stock in the group, so early this first semester, AY 2004-05, I took swimming as my P.E. class. I figured that if Edmon learned it from P.E class and ended up being a good swimmer, then, I, too, can be one. Unfortunately, I did not accomplish what I desired to accomplish. The teacher did not drop me from the class; it was just that I stopped going entirely. I did not lose interest, however, it was just that I couldn’t shrug off the horrific dream that I had.

I dreamed that I was swimming in the pool with my two cousins, Piolo Pascual and a lot more when, suddenly, people were screaming. Piolo approached me and made me leave the pool frantically telling me that the pool is infested with a shark. I hoisted myself out, all the while screaming the names of my cousins. Then I saw my cousin; the shark was an arm away from her. I screamed, instructing her to get off the pool fast, but too late. The shark had her by both legs. I ran towards her hoping to rescue her body from being eaten entirely, I pulled with all the strength that I had, but when I looked at what I was clutching I was shocked to see that it was the half part of a huge tuna, the tail part. Then I saw the greedy shark going back to the pool side, apparently his cage.

I did not drop out right after I had the dream, of course. I struggled to learn, but it was too much a torture to even close my eyes under water. I kept on looking closely, fearing that a shark would suddenly emerge. Because I dreamed of the pool side being the cage of the shark, I stayed far away from it and swam in the center. After two meetings following my dream of shark encounter, I dropped out.

My friends know how much I fear sharks. Ket, my org-mate, invited me to watch Open Water with her and my other friends saying, with a knowing smile, that she will pay for my ticket. I politely declined the offer telling her “kahit may libreng snacks pa ‘yan, di ako sasama.”. I wouldn’t dare add that movie to my already-crippling remembrances of sharks. But I did watch Shark Tale. It was cute, though, but it did not change my perception of sharks or helped erased my fear of them. The only consolation was it gave me hope and something to wish for: I wished for a time when all sharks will become like Lenny – a confessed vegetarian – and be that way forever.

It wounds me deeply when people say that I’m over-reacting. Wouldn’t it be much better to be just merely over-reacting? I would very much love to enjoy swimming in the sea, carefree, not paranoid over being made a day’s meal. Sharks, even in dreams, terrorize me. I love the beach, but swimming in it is another story.

The heart-stopping reminder I breathe is always this: where the beaches are, the sharks are there as well Argh!