I am now a certified open-water scuba diver. Not that that means all that much. Except being $171 poorer, 5 days slower, and able to rent scuba gear the world over. Really feeling weightless, the freedom of being able to breathe underwater, and all the new things I saw certainly made it worth the time, effort, and money. Luckily enough for my finances, I don’t see it being something I’ll be spending heaps of money on. It’s fun, it’s amazing, it’s beautiful. But it’s slow. Calm, slow, weightless. Tranquil. No adrenaline. And I’d rather stick to faster sports than upgrade to swimming with the sharks to find some.

Today I had my last two dives, and I’m feeling very happy to get off this god-forsaken island. It’s gorgeous, the water’s warm and reefs are amazing. But I’m tired of walking up and down the 1 road connecting my dive shop with everything else. I really can’t imagine what it would be like to live here. It does make sense how growing up here can turn you into one of these incredible sun-scorched, bad-teethed, inbred phenomena as are these islanders. Especially classic are the old men who just sit on the porch all day airing out their leathery permanently sun-burnt skin and beer bellies, yelling to the neighbors and passersby in their native English so thick and oddly-accented as to credibly betray their pirate heritage. Most of the islanders are bilingual, and the same ridiculous accent carries into their Spanish too. It’s great.

Not only is it really an island (no, I’m not making that up!), but it really feels way separate from Central America. I’m ready to get back. Too much of the same damned food, too much island.