It has happened that I have too much too blog about and too little time. Last Wednesday I went to Myrtle Beach for a beach break and to do a bit of wedding planning. To my surprise my dad, his wife Denise and my Aunt Neicey threw me a little bridal shower! So nice. Thursday was spent at these beautiful gardens and I took hundreds of pictures (to follow), along with bikini and wedding supply shopping. And on Friday we went to the beach (it was 86 and sunny on October 9th - I may never move willingly north of the Mason Dixon line again) - it was so hot and lovely and I started getting very excited for Mexico! (And a bit anxious - we'll be there in two weeks now.)
Saturday, today, Gabriel and I started our scuba training. We breezed through the academics since we're nerds, and then hopped in the pool. Okay, hopped is completely the wrong word. That tank is HEAVY for a 100 pound girl. In case that's not enough, there's a weighted belt and tubes everywhere. You get a mask and snorkel so you can't see well, and fins so you can't walk well. I've never felt so cumbersome. The first time we go underwater it's to breathe, and I realize quickly that it is very easy and natural to panic in a situation like this. I'm talking the clinical definition of panic, too. After a few breaths we pop back up and our instructor explains that next time down we're going to take out the breathing apparatus underwater, constantly exhale, throw the apparatus behind us and try to retrieve it two different ways. Pop it back into our mouths, blow the water out and continue breathing. Umm.. ok. He demonstrates underwater and points to Gabe, who does both like a pro. I signal that we need to have a little talk above water. No way am I ready for that, I politely say. I need to pee, and besides that, I need to swim around breathing underwater a while before I get comfortable enough to take my one link to oxygen OUT of my mouth. Not to mention time to get acquainted with the tubes and buttons all over my body.
To my credit, within a half an hour I was happily swimming around like a fish, and by the end of the day I didn't even panic when I was 12 feet underwater and my breathing tube came out and starting gushing a stream of pressurized air. I asked a lot of questions today to compensate for my total lack of technical intuitiveness, but now feel like I understand enough to not die. (This is important.) It's also nice to dive with someone that uses this equipment once and then could design his own. (And who is now, after midnight, watching a downloaded 'How It's Made' episode on scuba gear.)
I took 614 pictures on my Myrtle Beach trip and am so impressed with our little camera. I want to share lots and am not sure if I should put them on this blog, or start a flickr account, or some such thing. I'll figure it out soon.
Saturday, today, Gabriel and I started our scuba training. We breezed through the academics since we're nerds, and then hopped in the pool. Okay, hopped is completely the wrong word. That tank is HEAVY for a 100 pound girl. In case that's not enough, there's a weighted belt and tubes everywhere. You get a mask and snorkel so you can't see well, and fins so you can't walk well. I've never felt so cumbersome. The first time we go underwater it's to breathe, and I realize quickly that it is very easy and natural to panic in a situation like this. I'm talking the clinical definition of panic, too. After a few breaths we pop back up and our instructor explains that next time down we're going to take out the breathing apparatus underwater, constantly exhale, throw the apparatus behind us and try to retrieve it two different ways. Pop it back into our mouths, blow the water out and continue breathing. Umm.. ok. He demonstrates underwater and points to Gabe, who does both like a pro. I signal that we need to have a little talk above water. No way am I ready for that, I politely say. I need to pee, and besides that, I need to swim around breathing underwater a while before I get comfortable enough to take my one link to oxygen OUT of my mouth. Not to mention time to get acquainted with the tubes and buttons all over my body.
To my credit, within a half an hour I was happily swimming around like a fish, and by the end of the day I didn't even panic when I was 12 feet underwater and my breathing tube came out and starting gushing a stream of pressurized air. I asked a lot of questions today to compensate for my total lack of technical intuitiveness, but now feel like I understand enough to not die. (This is important.) It's also nice to dive with someone that uses this equipment once and then could design his own. (And who is now, after midnight, watching a downloaded 'How It's Made' episode on scuba gear.)
I took 614 pictures on my Myrtle Beach trip and am so impressed with our little camera. I want to share lots and am not sure if I should put them on this blog, or start a flickr account, or some such thing. I'll figure it out soon.
They did tell you to walk backward when you have your fins on, right?
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