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Adventures in Local Transportation – Philippines Part 2

BUS RIDE – EL NIDO TO PUERTO PRINCESA, PALAWAN

For the three days that we were in beautiful El Nido, I was slightly rattled by the accident that we had seen. There was nothing I could do to help and no way to know if the victims had been alright, but none-the-less, I couldn’t quite get the images out of my head.

When it came time for us to leave El Nido, we booked our van the night before, choosing a 1:30pm departure to hopefully put us in Puerto Princesa after the rush hour traffic and to give us time to sleep-in and enjoy the morning. We paid only 500 pesos ($15 CAD) for the return trip to the city, as we would also need to make our own way to the bus terminal.

After lunch, with our overnight bags in hand, we went searching for a tricycle to take us to the bus terminal. One tricycle driver asked us for 100 pesos.

Me: ‘Hmmm sounds like a bit much, we were thinking 15 pesos each’
Tricycle driver with a sly little laugh: ‘Just joking, it’s 50 pesos.’

I was quick to offer him 30 pesos for the two of us, which he declined, reiterating 50 pesos. We politely declined saying we would try with someone else. He quickly turned the tricycle around and rode off. Not too far down the street another driver asked if we needed a ride and we were able to negotiate a fare of 40 pesos for the 10 minute ride to the ramshackle bus terminal.

It was a bit disconcerting from the beginning when no one seemed to know the name of the company that was on our receipt, but after a couple of short conversations between men at the station, they directed us to a van and a friendly van assistant welcomed us to have a seat. We shifted into our chosen, assigned seats in the front row. We had chosen the front row hoping for a bit of extra foot and knee room, but were disappointed to see a hump on the floor giving us even less than normal foot space.

Two other passengers hopped in the van and off we went, departing nearly 10 minutes ahead of schedule. For the first few minutes, the road was more or less straight ahead and the driver clearly was excited to get going. He sped along the straight-away passing every vehicle (fast or slow) along the route. My friend and I exchanged a few questionable looks, but didn’t say anything.

The friendly assistant quickly became over friendly chatting away, asking questions and leaning over my shoulder to yell out the window to people of the side of the road to see if they needed a lift. Again, my friend and I exchanged glances wondering just what type of bus we had ended up on.

After picking up a local or two along the highway, the assistant leaned over me and adjusted the ceiling air conditioning off of me and on to himself. When I shot him a look, he adjusted one of the other vents to me and the one I had been using on to himself. Five minutes later, he moved to a different spot and readjusted the air conditioning that was on me, to him.

This cycle continued a ridiculous amount of times during the 4 – 5 hour transfer. The assistant couldn’t seem to sit still. Between leaning in beside me to yell out the window, to struggling to opening the door, to having a loud conversation with the driver from the back of the van … Not to mention the minimum of 10 times that he adjusted the air conditioning to himself.

Now, I know it sounds selfish that I would want the air conditioning all to myself, but that actually wasn’t the case! There were three ceiling air conditioning vents. I simply wanted one of them on me in the 40-degree heat. For whatever reason, he kept turning the one I was using on him and I would then have to adjust another one to be on me. Why he couldn’t have just adjusted the one that wasn’t in use, I will never know. He was antsy and kept changing seats, so he would change one vent and then change seats and change a different vent. I nearly lost it on him more than once.

As we barreled down the road at top speed passing everything along the way, I found myself thinking about the moto accident we had seen on the way to El Nido and remembering how thankful I had been for our reasonable and careful driver. Now, I felt like I was traveling with the devil!

About 15 minutes into the trip, much to my dismay, the driver’s speed stayed the same despite the hairpin turns going up and down mountains. After a short time, I stopped reaching for something to hold on to when we went around a turn, but instead, just held on for dear life.

As we careened down the steep hills, around corners and then back up again over roads in much need of repair, I thought to myself ‘Time to eat a cookie.’ Strange thought, right? True story … I was not going to die with home-baked cookies in my bag, so I was eating it to enjoy every last crumb … you know, just in case!

Along the way our driver would slow and occasionally stop to pick up new passengers and then put the pedal to the metal to make up for that lost thirty seconds. The craziness of the situation really set in when I realized that the driver of this rickety old van was leaning into the turns like a race car driver. Somehow he was delusional and thought we were in Formual One. How could this be?

Scared to death, annoyed by the unsettled assistant with his loud voice and increasing anxiety, I did the only thing I could in order to deal with it. I found a place where I could balance myself without falling out of the seat, stopped looking at the road and closed my eyes hoping for a nap. I was startled awake with the assistant mistakenly grabbed both sides of my head when he must have been reaching to hold on for a fast turn. I can’t even lie. The look I shot the assistant after his hands had come in contact both sides of my head while I was trying to sleep was a look of death. I managed to go back to a restless nap for another few minutes until we stopped at the halfway point.

Unbelievably, we had arrived at the halfway point in 45 minutes less time than it should have taken. I didn’t dare eat anything for fear that the roller-coaster of a drive would continue and that I would fall ill to motion sickness. After about a 15 minute stop, we piled back in the van with the other six or eight locals who we had picked up along the way and continued our mad dash to the city.

The assistant started up a new conversation with me about an hour in to the second part of the drive, tapping me on the shoulder and asking for the time. I quickly gave him the time. Not two minutes later, I was tapped on the arm and he asked again for the time. I looked at my phone, gave him the time and mumbled … ‘It’s two minutes after when you asked me last time.’ I had never met someone so constantly annoying. All I wanted to do was tune out, breathe and get through the crazy ride. The assistant then leaned in to the back of my seat and loudly had a conversation with the driver about the airport. That was the only word I understood in the local language. Then, a third tap on the arm from the assistant asking me what time we needed to be at the airport.

Seeing as we had bought our tickets specifically with a drop off at our hotel, it was a little frustrating that they wanted to drop us off at the airport. I explained that we were not going to the airport and that we needed to go to Puerto Princesa. A couple of minutes later, the assistant was trying to explain that one van would take us to the airport and another van would take the other passengers in to the city. I again explained ‘No Airport. No Flight. Hotel in Puerto Princesa.’ Who knew if we would end up in the city or at the airport.

To add to the joy of the ride, after another section of continuous S turns with the driver leaning in to each one, I heard the horrible sound of a cough and then a small choke and a splat. One of the two girls sitting in the front seat fumbled around for a plastic bag to give her friend. A couple more coughs and I cringed, now being sure that she was motion sick. I waited for the smell of vomit to permeate the rest of the van. As the poor girl continued to be sick, I wondered why she didn’t ask the driver to pull over for a moment. I then wondered why the driver wouldn’t offer to pull over. And then, my biggest wonderment was if the driver knew that it was likely his fault that this poor girl was motion sick. Had he driven like a normal person instead of a race car driver, he may not be smelling the puke of the girl sitting in the front seat with him, nor would we!

The friend tossed the plastic bag out the window and consoled her friend as we continued full speed ahead.

As we rounded the last few bends and started to see the slow rush hour traffic, it was a relief to know that the driver would have no option but to slow down. Sadly, the girl in the front was still sick once or twice more before the drive was over.

Next thing I knew, I was being tapped on the shoulder again, this time to be told we would be getting out and would need to hire a tricycle to our hotel. After 4-5 hours of life-threatening driving, a loud voice yelling in my ear, being woken by a strangers hands on my head and having the air conditioning re-directed every 10 minutes for no rhyme or reason, my sanity was nearly gone. I slowly and clearly explained (at least twice) that we had paid for the van to take us to our hotel and we would not take a tricycle. The assistant tried to tell me that we would get out at the next intersection and take a tricycle, but I refused, insisting that they drive us to the hotel.

In the end, the few remaining passengers piled out of the van and we continued on, stopping at a gas station along the way into the city. Within about 10 minutes, we were dropped off at the door to our hotel. Never had I been so happy to arrive at a hotel and get out of a vehicle. I was thankful that evening for being safe, for having a friend to travel with and endure the horrible ride with and I knew that eventually I would look back and have a laugh at the situation. I was wrong about that part though … two weeks later, I’m still not laughing.

Word of the wise:
If you are traveling from Manila to Palawan and plan to see both El Nido and Puerto Princesa, book one flight in to one airport and the other flight out of the other airport. This way you only have to do the crazy long drive once.

Secondly, we were really happy with the van and service of Camarih Palawan Shuttle Transport and I would strongly suggest NOT traveling with a company whose name starts with “B”. Sadly, they took our receipt when we got into the van and we had no idea that we would want to remember the company name, so I never asked for it back, therefore I can’t recall the company name. Do a little research, pay that extra $2 – $5 and make sure you arrive safe and sound.

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Adventures in Local Transportation – Philippines Part 1

BUS RIDE – Puerto Princesa to El Nido, Palawan

El Nido is a small beach side community about 400 kms north of Puerto Princesa, the capital of the island of Palawan in the Philippines. It is a magical beach side community where limestone karsts protrude from the crystal clear waters and tower protectively around you.

El Nido, Palawan, Philippines
El Nido, Palawan, Philippines

Certainly one of the best-known tourist areas on Palawan, it had been highly recommended that we make the trip to bask in the natural beauty.

Staff at our Puerto Princesa hotel arranged our transfer for us with pick up from our hotel and drop off at our hotel in El Nido for 700 pesos. There was also an option to take a tricycle to the bus terminal and pay only 500 pesos for the van transfer, but after paying the 700 pesos and arriving on the side of the road to transfer to a different van, we knew we had made the right decision as the ‘terminal’ would have been a bit difficult to find.

We had been prepared for a five and a half hour transfer to El Nido, but hadn’t realized that it would take one hour to also get us from the hotel to the terminal during morning rush hour traffic.

We crammed in the very back of an 11-seater van with our small luggage stored under the seats and our feet propped on top of two other travelers’ rucksacks. It looked like it was going to be a long ride. Little did we know that the road would be nearly a constant S turn going up and down mountains. I would guess that the average speed of our van was in the 50 km / hour range for the most part. Regularly I stared out the window and was thankful that I was in my relatively slow moving van as other vans and motos zoomed past.

We travelled along the coast for awhile with the beautiful bays to our right and lush fields and mountains to our left. The first two hours of our journey were bumpy and curvy, but relatively uneventful.

We stopped at the half-way point for lunch and a bathroom break. Local dishes in heated plates were waiting for customers to make their choices. I opted for a bag of corn chips, some mentos, cashews and a small chocolate bar. Delicious and not at all nutritious but I wasn’t sure how fresh the local food was, or what any of it was!

The second half of the drive was somehow bumpier, windier and more mountainous. Throw in a few construction areas, gravel roads, school zones and rice laid out to dry on sheets in the roads, and you have a recipe for disaster. About 20 minutes outside of El Nido we had just started to see our first glimpses of water and the beautiful karsts jutting out of the water. We wound down, down, down around a big mountain when the driver put on his breaks quite hard. There were three other vans stopped ahead of us in the middle of the road. After waiting a moment, the driver and assistant popped out to see what the hold up was. Realizing that there had been an accident, one of the passengers in our van went to see if he could help as he was medically trained.

As we sat in the van, we could see only the signs of an accident to our left. There was a group of people crowded around something, a few stray car or moto pieces, a helmet and some flip flops on the road. To the right, a young girl of about 14 years old leaned over in the ditch and vomited. Whatever had happened wasn’t good.

A few minutes later, our drivers and the passenger came back to the vehicle. The passenger explained to us that there had been a motorcycle accident and that someone was hurt quite badly. She was unconscious and likely had internal bleeding. He went on to explain that they had assured him that help was on the way and that the hospital was only five minutes away.

As the line up of passenger vans slowly started to move forward and around the group of people who had gathered around the accident victims, it was one of those horrible moments where I knew that I shouldn’t look, but I had to. As we inched forward past the accident I saw a crumpled motorcycle and a second badly damaged one. Next, I saw one of the victims sitting on the pavement and the other lying unconscious with a river of blood running across the pavement.

I drew in a sharp breath and my eyes instantly filled with tears. I sat in silence for the remainder of the drive to the small town of El Nido, hoping that the two victims would be ok. Again, I found myself thankful that despite the crazy twisty, turny, mountainous roads, our driver took his time and we arrived safely. Thank you Camarih Palawan Shuttle Transport.

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Caring Counts for Critters too!

My business card says Photographer. Adventurer. Storyteller. But, in all honesty, I’m a story-listener as well. I love learning about people and why they are doing what they do. It’s amazing to start a small conversation with someone and have it turn in to a Caring Counts moment.

The owner of the Alona 42 Resort in Alona Beach, Panglao Island in the Philippines is a great example of Caring Counts (for Critters).

Christian is an engineer from Germany. He works five months in Germany each year and spends seven months in the Philippines. Contrary to popular belief, his time in the Philippines is not seven months of vacation, rather seven months of longer than normal work-hours managing his resort. The resort took three years to build and became operational in 2012.

When we arrived at the small resort, we were greeted by one of Christian’s four cats, Mary. She was in really rough shape, hobbling, dirty and looked like she was in a lot of pain. Her mouth and surrounding fur was black and her paws were balding. She was so dirty that I didn’t even dare touch her as I wasn’t sure what disease might be lurking. I was heartbroken and asked the staff what was wrong with her. They explained that she had some kind of mouth cancer and had been sick for quite some time. They also explained that she had been to the vet and that they had been trying to help her. As she hobbled over to the food dish that the staff set out, I found my heart aching that this poor kitty, presumably, was in so much pain, but happy that the staff were taking care of her despite her outward appearance.

Although we had only met one cat, Mary, at this point, Christian had actually taken in a family of four white cats Mary, Sophie, Chica and Mouse, all of whom we would meet in a short time. Within a couple of hours, we saw one or two of the other cats. It was difficult to tell them apart as all had similar markings with their white bodies, black and brown patches on their heads and various sizes of bob tails. They were all clean and appeared healthy which was a relief to see.

Generally speaking, animals aren’t cared for or respected here in the Philippines, which is sad. Many of them roam homeless, dirty, mangey and severely under nourished. Not to mention that they continue to reproduce, as very few are fixed. Due to lack of education, it is not uncommon for animals to be abused here. To control the animal population, every few months the government gives residents notice, sets a date and drives around collecting animals that are not tagged or collared. They are kept in a cage for approximately 24 hours. If you’re pet has been mistakenly captured, you can go and pay to have them released. After that time, sadly, the remaining animals are killed. It’s heartbreaking. And I’m sure that there is no hope of the animals being killed in any kind of a humane way.

As I spoke with Christian about the cats, I mentioned that I hadn’t seen Mary for a couple of days. He gently and sadly explained that she had been too sick. He had taken her to the vet the day prior and the vet confirmed that the medicine was not working and that she was in a lot of pain. He was given the option to take Mary for an operation in Manila which would cost several hundred dollars and may or may not work. Besides the fact that they would need to fly there and fly back which is particularly stressful for any animal, let alone one as sick as Mary. So, they made the difficult decision to put her down, humanely, by way of injection. You could tell that Christian was still a bit sad, but he went on to tell me about how he and his staff care for the other cats.

The cats are left to roam free, but rarely leave the property. They are outdoor cats, but have lots of shelter options when it rains under the balconies of the accommodations, or the small covered outdoor restaurant / seating area. They also tend to scare off new cats who decide to try for a chance at the good life at the resort. He chalks it up to them being fed and well taken care of on a regular basis, so therefore they have no reason to leave. He lamented with a smile that some days he wished he could be one of his cats as they have such a good life.

As I write this, Chica is snoozing on the mat outside my front door and Sophie is having a bite to eat at the bar. Mouse is sprawled out on the cement close to a wall, trying to cool off a bit. Chica doesn’t run away, but sticks her nose up at you if you try to pet her and saunters just out of reach. Sophie looks up with interest when you call her, but keeps her distance.

Although I was sad to know that Mary was no longer around, I was glad to know that she was no longer in pain. More than anything I felt warm from the inside that this man from another country had taken in not one, but four cats, to provide food and shelter for them as well as the necessary medical check ups. Even better, he had them all fixed as not to contribute to the overpopulation of animals. All of this paid for from his own pocket.

As I try to live in, and create a world around me that is full of kindness and caring, I am happy that I’ve had the chance to stay at this lovely little location where Caring Counts for Critters too.

Please take a moment to check out the fantastic Caring Counts movement that is going on in Halifax, Nova Scotia and spreading like wild fire. It’s all about the little things that make a difference and caring about one another. It’s for me and you and everyone! Let’s make this world a better place, just by caring!

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Underwater world experience

Scuba diving in the Philippines

As I threw myself backwards off the little boat rocking in the waves I closed my eyes and held the regulator firmly so that it wouldn’t fall out of the grasp of my teeth and drenched in salt water. Oh how I hate the taste of the ocean. I was the last one out of the boat and as I was falling over the edge, tank first, I was still wondering what I had agreed to.

I had just finished my PADI Discover Scuba Diving course in Alona Beach on Panglao Island in the Philippines. My friend Robin had enrolled in the PADI Open Water Diver course and although I wasn’t interested in the time or money required for the certification, learning to dive had been on my adventure to do list for quite some time. No better time to start than in the Philippines with one of your best and most encouraging friends.

After watching an hour-long introductory video about how diving works, the equipment involved, underwater communication signals and how air works in your body as you go up and down in water, it was time to get suited up.

A relatively painless, however, hilarious trip to the on-site gear closet had me tugging on the shorties for what seemed like forever, trying to get them to crawl even an extra inch up my thighs. After a not so graceful wiggle-dance, the wet suit was successfully in place above my knees. Luckily, they had sized me correctly and I only had to try on one wet suit and keep it on. I shoved my feet in my booties, sized my flippers and snorkel mask and then we headed to the nearby pool for our confined water training.

My instructor checked over my gear and helped me into it while my friend was in charge of checking and preparing her own equipment as part of her more in-depth open water certification. With my regulator clenched between my teeth almost as tightly as a dog clenches his bone, we were instructed to put our faces in the water and then submerge in the shallow end of the pool. We were then towed gently underwater to the deeper end of the pool, stopping every few feet to equalize by swallowing and/or blowing gently into a pinched nose.

Next up we got to practice inflating and deflating our BCD (buoyancy control device) to achieve neutral buoyancy. I must admit I didn’t do so great at this. I would definitely need more practice on this one before doing it on my own. We then practiced a few of the basic skills of diving, including clearing a mask that had started to fill with water, how to find our regulator if it were to become dislodged from our mouth, how to clear it to start breathing again and sharing our air if our buddy were to run out.

Although only one meter under water and in a pool, when I went from having the regulator in my mouth as my air source, to letting it float away, I panicked slightly. I was able to successfully wrap my arm backwards to find the regulator, but remembering all of the other steps was a struggle for me. I immediately held my breath instead of releasing air which is the cardinal rule for diving – ALWAYS breathe. If you are releasing air you are breathing, because you don’t want the air in your lungs to expand as you rise. I was fine up until the point that I had the regulator in hand and close to inserting it into my mouth. My instructor reminded me to continue breathing and letting bubbles escape. As I inserted the regulator back into my mouth I realized that I didn’t have enough air left in my lungs to clear it by blowing into it. Although we had been taught what to do, I had a moment (or a few) of panic when I wasn’t sure what to do. I remembered to use the release button on the regulator to clear it, but just as I gently pressed it I realized that I wasn’t blocking the opening with my tongue and everything was going to be pushed into my mouth. Hence, a stronger panic, as I felt like I was running out of air and was scared if I breathed through the regulator that I was going to take in water.

When my instructor signalled to ask if I was ok, my panic rose a bit more as I couldn’t remember the signs immediately. Finally, (likely only 2 seconds later), I signalled that I wasn’t really ok. I then pressed the release on the regulator a second time, remembering to place my tongue to block it from pushing back into my mouth. I then inhaled lightly and realized air was flowing just fine, so I took a deeper breath. We stayed there for a moment until I was able to give the ok sign. It took me a minute for my heart to drop back out of my throat. It was at that moment, despite being ok, that I really wasn’t sure if I could do this in the big open ocean.

We swam a couple of circles around the small pool practicing our neutral buoyancy and then started our ascent to the shallow end. I just couldn’t seem to get the whole neutralization thing quite right. At the bottom of the pool I would sink too far and scrape my knees. At the top of the pool I seemed to lose my balance easily and felt like I was being pushed forward all the time. When I finally took my regulator out of my mouth and was standing on my own two feet in the shallow end, I choked back tears and spit out, “I’m not sure I can do this.”

Our instructor was great, making sure that he talked me through what happened and then reassuring me that I wouldn’t have to do any of those skills on the dive, all I would need to do is breathe and use my flippers; he would take care of my buoyancy and guiding me. Robin, on the other hand, had to do a bit more work and testing while in open water for her course.

As we moved from the weightlessness of the pool to full on gravity it gave me a new appreciation for the weight of all of the gear on my back. I carry a lot of heavy camera gear in my backpack regularly and it didn’t even compare! We went directly from the pool to the small boat, handed off our gear to be loaded and hopped over the edge. I guess it was probably a good thing that I didn’t have time to sit and think too much about it. I was really unsure if I wanted to do the open water dive, but none-the-less I was going through the motions of getting on the boat. I would have at least a few more minutes to decide.

The rocky boat ride lasted only about five minutes to get to Garden Eel Reef. I was super glad I had remembered my Transderm patch the night before as it was perfect conditions for me to get horribly sea-sick. Choppy swells and a boat sitting without movement … my arch nemesis! Before I had time to turn green, we were plunging backwards over the edge into the waves with our vests inflated and regulators in our mouths. I was still nervous and unsure if I could do this.

The plan was to follow a mooring line down a few meters, but for whatever reason, I wasn’t able to release enough air from my BCD to start sinking. After a minute, the instructor assisted and I started going down, all of us stopping to equalize every few feet.

What an odd sensation when your head starts to feel heavier than normal and you can feel the pressure in your ears. It’s similar to descending in a plane, but somehow was much more intense for me. In my mind I revisited childhood memories of diving for pucks in the deep end of the Florenceville swimming pool where I was a life guard for several summers. I could vaguely recall the same pressure, but was only ever going down for a few seconds and then straight back up to the surface. This time would be very different as I would be staying under to explore the underwater world!

At the end of the mooring line, our instructor led us to a coral shelf that was full of corals and fish. We glided horizontally through the smooth water despite the choppy seas only a few meters above us. We then came to the edge of the coral where, all of a sudden, the shelf abruptly dropped off and there was nothing in front of us but the deep, dark, beautiful unknown beckoning us.

Despite my earlier panic in the pool, I was breathing normally and curiosity was slowly winning over my fear. The slow, methodical sound of my breathing was unusually calming as we glided through the open ocean toward a world that too few people see.

Our instructor slowly led us deeper and deeper with the coral shelf only a couple of feet to my left. Although I would never reach out and touch it, it was easily within arms reach. In fact, a couple of times I got a little too close and I was scared I was going to touch it by accident. Not sure if I was more concerned about damaging the environment or the environment biting me! Just as I was too close for comfort, the instructor who was guiding us from above, steered us slightly away and deeper again.

Although I was slightly nervous throughout the dive, I was able to relax enough to enjoy the beauty, knowing that the instructor was controlling my depth and direction. With this peace of mind, all I had to do was clear my mask occasionally and breathe normally. Luckily I enjoy deep yoga breathing and know that it calms me, so I was a conservative air user.

At 12 meters below the surface, it is amazing in itself just to be able to breathe freely. It is amazing that air can be bottled for consumption under water. It tickles your brain in a totally new way as you explore a whole new world below the surface.

Through the various depths, we saw schools of bright blue fish, beautiful black ones, the occasional bright yellow one and a school of Angel fish. Along the coral shelf there were blue starfish clinging to the side and small clown fish poking their heads in and out of sea grass. The size and textures of the different types of coral were a delight in the spotty sun that was reaching through the water. The plants and grasses were waving with the motion of the water and fish were dancing in the current.

We stayed at a depth of 12 meters for a short period of time before turning the dive and gradually making our ascent back to the top passing new schools of fish, a small grey eel wiggling vertically in the water, and hundreds more small, colorful fish.

At about three meters from the surface, we stopped for a non-mandatory rest and equalization period. Robin was tested on a couple of skills and then we self-inflated our BCDs until our heads popped above water and we were again bobbing in the swells waiting for our boat to draw near.

Scuba diving in the Philippines

We were underwater for approximately one hour. Somehow it felt like time stopped while we were there. I had no concept of time, nor any need to be concerned with it. That was a liberating feeling in itself. The only ‘time limit’ we had was the amount of oxygen in each of our tanks.

I’m still contemplating my feelings on the entire experience. It was nothing short of amazing to be able to breathe underwater. Despite there being three of us under water, nearly attached to each other, somehow I got lost in my own little underwater world, amazed at the beauty and color that exists where our eyes rarely see. And somehow, I still harbour an uneasy fear from my panic situation in the pool. I’m excited that I tried it, yet, somewhere inside me, I’m not sure if it is something I want to pursue further. I feel like I need to give it more than one chance, yet, I also feel like I’ll have to do some self-convincing to jump over the boat’s edge into the unknown. In the end, I hope that my curiosity will win over my fear.

Do you remember your first diving experience? What was it like? Feel free to share with me in the comments!