Exploring the border between fear and fascination. Thallasphobia edition.

Going to the beach is something that everyone is familiar with. The sand between your toes, the wind in your hair. Romantic.

The blanket lying on the ground and you putting on your swimsuit under a towel while your friends look around to see if nobody is watching. Laying in the sun and catching the poisonous sun rays. They make your skin age, they say. My friend and I turning from side to side to not burn and applying sunscreen over and over again. Okay, it’s time. It’s time to go in. Intimidating.

I find myself caught between the call of the sea and uncertainty. The water stretches out endlessly, its depths hiding the mysteries of the unknown. My toes curl into the warmth of the sand. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing is both a soothing melody and a reminder of the vastness that lies beneath. The fear of what lurks in the deep sea holds me back, like an invisible barrier preventing me from fully surrendering to the ocean's enchantment.

I get up, following my friend. I take off my sunglasses and throw them down while bending and throwing some sand on the corner of the blanket so the wind doesn’t blow it away. My long hair is always such a mess when going to the beach. Maybe a bun would be a better option, since I am going into the water, right?

My friend is already walking next to the water, so I run to catch up with her. As soon as I come closer, I feel the sand getting more damp until my toes catch a small wave coming out of the sea. It feels cold but pleasant. The water is my friend today. Refreshing.

I see a lot of seaweed covering the sea floor. I hesitantly take a step towards the forest of organisms. I suddenly imagine myself being struck down as small ropes fly around me and tie me to the ground. My imagination runs wild. Am I Gulliver the Giant stepping over a city of beings? No, I am not. I jump over the city in two jumps, trying to avoid touching it. Intrusion. Hopefully, they understand.

I hear my friend calling out my name. I am coming her way, no need to worry. Taking a step forward and breathing in. The cool water touches my ankles and I start to doubt — was this a good idea? Maybe I still need to lie in the sun for a bit to get warmer for the cool water? As I step out of the seaweed I also come closer to the unknown, like the lost city of Atlantis — once a highly advanced and prosperous civilization — or the Kraken. Those words seem to echo in my mind as the water reaches my knees already.

My family always compared me to a mermaid. Perhaps because I was training to swim since I was 7 years old or because I had long, wavy, dark hair that would always get tangled with seaweed when I went to the sea. My parents told me that whenever I came to the beach with them I would spend hours in the water playing around, diving, floating on the waves until my lips turned blue and my mom had to drag me out of the water. I was quite a good swimmer. I tried different tricks in the water like standing on my head or my arms, catching the waves, and diving as far as I could, although the distance never seemed to be clear since the movements of the waves were never-ending. I was never allowed to go deeper than my belly button. Dangerous. Another wave hits my thighs and I step forward.

I remember the first time I saw one of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies. I was together with my dad at home on a Saturday evening, and unknown to us, it was already the 3rd part, so we felt a bit thrown into the plot without much explanation. We were about to watch the scene where the ship turned upside down to see a green glimpse of light. I remember thinking at that moment, “How can someone ever do that? How are they not scared?” I understand now that they were. Holding on to the rails of the ship, they went upside down. Deep breath in and they surrendered to the darkness. Did they have any idea how long they needed to hold their breath? Did they think about the saltwater burning their eyes as they opened them underneath the water? Was the burning sensation from the salt the sole indicator that their eyes were open?

I get splashed in my face as the next wave hits my hips. The waves grow stronger and I shiver. It’s getting colder. I see small hairs on my arms standing up and forming goosebumps. Not unexpected. I catch a wave with my belly button and walk forward. Danger zone. My friends stand on either side of me and make me feel secure. My palms touch the water. With my hands, it feels nicely warm. I look at my friends and they share a look with each other. Suddenly they bend down and disappear under the surface in the blink of an eye. For a moment I am alone. Do I feel like panicking yet? Not really. I know that those are my friends in this unknown depth of the ocean, not scary water creatures. I suddenly imagine them as two undiscovered fish being washed up on the shore. Their long hair becomes the long hands of jellyfish and their hands connect to their body like two fins. They are not dangerous, at least not for me. They use their bodies and their ability to move to confuse predators. They also take me as one of their own.

Movement next to my legs disrupts me from my thoughts and the surface tension of the water is broken when one of them emerges right in front of me. The other friend follows right behind, a few metres further away. “It feels so good!” my friend claims. Believable.

The decision is now mine to make. Pressure, this time not of the deep water, is on my shoulders as I take a look around the vastness of the sea. My two friends standing near me encourage me as my hands find a spot in front of me and touch the water again. I slowly move closer and closer to the surface. What am I doing? Is this happening? The coldness of the water reaches my ribs and I take a deep breath in. In one swift movement, I am underwater. My head goes under.

It’s funny how every time I dread this moment with all my being, but when embracing it, a feeling of excitement fills my body.

“Just look at the world around you
Right here on the ocean floor
Such wonderful things surround you
What more is you lookin' for?”

Sebastian sang as he tried explaining to the Little Mermaid how beautiful it was. My eyes open and even though the only thing the saltwater allows me to see is a light blue and green fog around me, I imagine a world much more beautiful. Schools of fish move with synchronized precision, their scales catching the sunlight and creating a dazzling display of colours. Graceful sea anemones swaying with the current, providing shelter for curious clownfish peeking out from their homes. Coral reefs housing a variety of marine creatures in every nook and cranny. Rays of sunlight piercing through the surface to create a kaleidoscope of colours. And finally, my friends swimming toward me as sea creatures with open fins to help me discover the water gates to this fascinating world.

I have yet to see the green flash of light.

I close my eyes again to emerge from the water, and a breath of fresh air fills my lungs. Exciting.