Once we landed, we fell right into my favorite part of travel, the local bus ride with wide-open windows and standing room only. The bus slowed for young girls to run on selling their mother’s pan de coco (coconut bread) and orange Fanta that bobbed in metal bowls filled with melting ice that they balanced on their heads. Then they’d giggle as the bus started to roll slowly from the stop, securing their lempira (Honduran currency) before they’d miss their chance to hop back off in order to wait for the next bus.
After our ferry, we arrived on Roatan to settle into our twenty-dollar guesthouse that night. I sat in meditation the next morning with silent visions of the deep blue. Honduras was home to the monstrous whale shark, ocean’s largest fish, which could grow to fifty feet long. I tried not to focus on the shadows that might cast above me if I decided to go for it and crossed paths with the big mother, but instead focused on where my fears lie. I thought about how I had come on this trip to conquer my fears since recent affairs in my life had proven me that I didn’t have room for any more. By the end of my hour sit, I was making a fearless move to pack my sun block and camera, when Nayomi returned with breakfast.
“I found out I can do a discovery dive for $75 and I can apply that to the full cost to get certified which is only $230. It’s too cheap not to learn how to dive while I’m here.”
It was exactly what I needed to hear, that there was an appetizer without having to commit to the full-course meal. I decided to negate all of the statements I had made my whole life and said the words, “I’m going with you.”
When I made sound decisions such as these in my life, I always felt them in my gut. Today my gut vibrated with clarity.
After a one-hour video introduction, we boated out to Pura Vida Dive Shop’s “pool,” a fifteen-foot shallow sand bar circle in the ocean that resembled a kiddie pool. Our Chilean dive instructor, Chris’s, sweet nature contradicted his boot camp-like instructions.
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