Learning how to swim as an adult

And small pleasures I've never experienced.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about all the small pleasures I have never experienced.

One of them is swimming. I’ve never dived off a boat on the Italian coast or hung out in a pool deeper than 4 feet or swam in a cenote or took a dip in the ocean. My whole life, I’ve only dipped my toes or gone waist-deep. Learning how to swim is one of those things that “I wanted to learn one day” but I never took any action to actually learn.

When I was 7, I drowned in a pool at a waterpark in El Salvador. The only thing I remember was the aftermath: being out of the water and eating pupusas for lunch. My uncle and another stranger had managed to save me. Since then, I’ve been terrified of going into the deep end. Throughout my adult life, I was always amazed at people who knew how to swim. It seemed like such an easy, human thing and yet I had never learned. Every time I’d go on vacation somewhere with a pool or a beach, my mom would call me to say don’t you dare go into the water.

My friend Cynthia had never learned to swim either and she invited me to go with her to adult beginner swimming classes. I was terrified but excited. I got there with my goggles and swim cap and the water was 4 ft tall—already enough to make me nervous. I told the instructor I was scared but she said, “We gotta do it though.”

The first lesson seemed simple: put your face in the water, while looking down at the floor of the pool, and learn how to make bubbles by blowing your nose. It took me a few minutes to actually get the courage to put my face in the water and look at the pool floor. I kept choking, getting water up my nose, but eventually, I learned how to control myself, at least for a few seconds. The next part was holding onto the side of the pool, but learning to let your body float up and kicking your feet. Again, it took me a while to get it. I kept making my body heavy, not allowing it just float. I was unbelievably tense, holding on to the side of the pool for dear life. But after a few tries, I allowed my body to be light—and it felt so good. For a second there, I thought maybe I could learn how to swim one day after all. I looked to the other side of the pool, where the people who were farther along in the lessons were already actually swimming. It was possible!

During the very last minute of the lesson, the instructor said “Let’s try to let your body float and kick behind you, but without holding onto the side of the pool.” I tried, but I could not do it. I was too scared to let go of the sides of the pool.

The last words the instructor told me were, “This was rough. But if you come twice a week and are willing to take a risk, you will learn.”

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Meet Cynthia

I want to introduce a new section to my newsletter where I share someone else’s small pleasures.

Sketch of Cynthia, by Aaron Aalto.

Cynthia is an amazing and chic writer that has been my friend for many years. Here is one of her small pleasures:

At some point, my mom decided I was old enough to wear makeup, and since then, anytime we were going somewhere or expected visitors, she’d signal that it was time for a quick touch-up - a little powder, a little lipstick. Now I can’t walk out the door without these two things on me, and my simple pleasure is whipping them out anytime or anywhere I feel like it; when I’m walking, on the train, at a bar, etc. My favorite moment to do it, however, is when I’m seated at some cafe, where I can blot my fresh lipstick on a napkin or coffee cup. The sight of it all just *does it* for me. It’s my small moment of unapologetic femininity, and it makes me feel a little more confident in whatever I’m doing, even if I’m doing nothing at all!

Cynthia’s essentials 💄

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