Leaping into the Mediterranean

“Ejja, let’s go to the beach!” my father said one morning in his usual Maltese/English hybrid language. I’d heard it almost every day of every summer when my family escaped the muggy New York City streets to vacation on the small but punchy Mediterranean island of Malta, the home my parents left behind as teenagers. But this day at the beach would be different.

We hiked down to the shore, opting to avoid the bendy, sidewalk-less road to travel through the farmlands. We arrived at beautiful Mellieha Bay, the longest sandy beach on an island locals call, the Rock. But as I turned left to find a good spot near an ice cream kiosk, my dad turned right. “Let’s go this way. I want to show you something.”

We trekked over jagged rocks, desperately eager to get out of the blazing sun and into the cool water. This ten minute walk felt like a lifetime and just as I was about to give it all up and tell my dad to go on without me, he stopped. I looked up to find a spectacular cove, with crystal clear water, mysterious caves and most surprising, not another soul. We had just walked into a child’s dream, where sea horses ruled the world.
Splash! I was snapped out of my Little Mermaid daydream to see my dad bobbing in the water. “Come on, jump! I’ll catch you!”
While fearless of the water since I could crawl, I’d always walked into the shallow bay, sand between my toes at every step with hundreds of others floating around. But as I looked around I realized there was no other way in, I’d have to jump.
So I crept up to the edge, closed my eyes, squeezed my nose shut with my thumb and forefinger and… swoosh! The cool water surrounded me. I opened my eyes to see the tiny fish frantically swimming away from the underwater tornado I had caused. And my dad was there, ready to pull me out if I had any trouble.

It was amazing, exhilarating and the most fun of my eight year old life! I just wanted to jump in and out of that cove forever. We must have spent hours jumping, exploring, just us and the sea creatures. Tiny crabs scaled the rocks and snails crept about. I climbed rock walls, keeping the adrenaline going by jumping from higher landings, doing tricks mid-air to show off what I felt was clearly a natural gift that would someday take me places.

They never did add a cliff jumping event to the Olympics but that day would end up shaping my life, fearlessly leaping into challenges, but always feet first and nose plugged.