I am a changed man.
I just came back from vacation, and I am now a new man.
That’s what vacations are for, right? The day-to-day stresses. The packages that don’t arrive on time. The deli putting mustard on your sandwich when you specifically asked them for Mayo. You go on vacations to escape the doldrums of life.
Especially when you go to a place like Bora Bora, which is where we just spent seven glorious days, soaking in the turquoise waters, sleeping in our over-the-water bungalow when not snorkeling among the fish in the waters below. It’s a respite from life. I’m rejuvenated.
Everywhere through the resort, we were met with friendly greetings of “La Orana,” which is the Tahitian version of “Aloha” or just “Hello,” or in my specific case, “What’s up?”
We’re in paradise! What could I possibly complain about?
Well…
I’m not complaining, mind you, but just making some observations. The aforementioned activity of snorkeling, for example.
My lovely, gorgeous and incredibly capable wife, through no fault of her own, doesn’t really know how to swim. In the 30+ years I’ve been married to her, I’ve tried to help her along, but she still gets extremely nervous when she’s in any kind of water.
The waters below our bungalow are crystal clear, and because our resort is basically in a shallow alcove, there aren’t any waves and most importantly, the water at its deepest is 3 ½ feet deep. The water is also over 80 degrees so it’s incredibly comfortable.
So, as we climb down from our bungalow into the gentle waters below, the old, grumpy, pre-vacation Wayne might make some smart aleck remark when he sees his wife warily climbing into the water with her snorkel gear as well as a full-on life jacket and a pool noodle. Maya isn’t 3 ½ feet tall. She’s well above that.
The old Wayne, seeing her in this outfit, might have said something like, “I’m right next to you! But if you’re still struggling in the water, maybe just try standing up. Just stand up!” But the new, relaxed and carefree Wayne, stands patiently in the water and doesn’t say a thing.
Most of the bottom is bare sand. You have to head over to certain areas where the coral reefs are. I spend about 20 minutes amazed by all the colorful fish swimming in and out of the coral. Maya, on the other hand, is about 20 feet away from me, apparently just staring at a huge patch of white sand below her, not really seeing anything.
I call her – “Why don’t you come over here where all the fish are?” She doesn’t say anything.
I know she’s OK because she’s wearing enough PFDs (Personal Floating Devices) where most of her body is above the surface of the water anyways. She couldn’t get below the surface of the water even if she was holding two bowling balls.
The old Wayne would have thought that the way she’s suited up, she’s like a floating cork in the water. I certainly don’t know where the cork is going and I’m pretty sure the cork doesn’t know where it’s going either. But the new Wayne doesn’t think like that, no way.
Instead, the new Wayne walks over to her (yes, WALKS to her), grabs her by one of the PFDs she’s wearing and gently pulls her over to where all the fish are.
Because that’s what the new Wayne is all about nowadays. I’m a man who welcomes people and is filled with “La Orana.”
And the new Wayne would NEVER crack a joke that she should wear all that stuff the next time she gets in the tub. No way. Stuff like that doesn’t even cross my mind anymore.
Chan, a Poway resident, writes about family and community life and shares humorous views of topics of the day.
