Lifeguard, are you sure those waves aren't dangerous?

---

Lifeguard, are you sure those waves aren’t dangerous?

So I finally made it to the beach in Guatemala. Between my four visits here, I have been here for 19 weeks. You would think that in that time I would have made it to the beach sooner, but, no, I haven’t. But I have heard plenty about the beaches here—THEY ARE DANGEROUS. There are stories of undertows. And every time someone comes back from a beach I ask them about the water. I never believed in the undertows. From living in Los Angeles, I know about rip currents, and I know about powerful waves. But undertows? They don’t exist in the ocean—only rivers. I have tried explaining the concept of an undertow verses a rip current to many of my Spanish teachers, and they all describe an undertow. I had come to believe in the existence of this mighty force.

So I got to the beach. It was a beautiful sight. I had not seen the ocean in two and a half months (those of you land-locked in the Midwest are probably sarcastically thinking “poor baby,” but Matthias, I am sure you feel my pain). And then I see the lifeguard tower; it is absurdly far from the water. And under the tower, sitting in the shade of the tower’s shadow, sit two lifeguards, with their backs to the water, eating lunch with their families. In the lifeguards’ defense, they were wearing Speedos, so at least their swimwear is faster than that of the LA County lifeguards. I walk past the lifeguard tower down towards the water and assess the waves. There are a lot of people in the water, but no one is out near where the waves break—but that is where I want to be. I don’t see anything strange about the way the waves are breaking and I want to go out. I walk back up the beach to the lifeguard tower. I ask the lifeguards about the water. I describe rip currents and undertows. They assure me that there are no undertows. They ask me if I can swim and I tell them yes. They tell me that it is safe if I can swim and that I can go out to the break. They then reassure me even more and tell me that also there is no danger because they will be watching me. Now, I’m going to be completely honest here, I wasn’t really reassured by their offer of rescue. It seemed more like Guatemalan machismo. I pictured these guys fantasizing, while eating their chicken and beans under their tower, about the fame they might gain if they saved some Gringo from drowning.

So I went out into the shallows of the ocean to assess its current and talk with the people in the water. I found a couple of teenage boys and asked them why no one was farther out in the ocean. They looked at me with fear, told me it was dangerous, and used their hands to demonstrate the power of the ocean pulling people under. I stayed out there a little longer and assessed the current and the waves. Then I came back to the shore to see if I could see any rip currents or strange motions in the water. I then saw the lifeguard go on a rescue. He kind of trotted across the sand to the water. Either the rescue wasn’t very important, or he was saving his energy for a massive swim. Matthias would probably call this rescue a “prevent.” I am going to call it Guatemalan machismo, boredom, and curiosity. (Kind of like the first time I drove Mau’s motorcycle to the mall, and when I came back to the bike two parking lot attendants came running over to me to relay the important message that there is a special section in the parking lot for motorcycles. Really guys? It takes two of you to tell me this? O, and you had already left me a note on the motorcycle.) Well on his way back from the rescue, I talked with him again about the water and the current. Despite my lack of faith in him, there really didn’t appear to be anything dangerous about the water. We again talked about currents and he again assured me that there was nothing strange out there AND that he would be watching me. So…

So I go out to the water. I again try to get a sense of it. I again see the two Guatemalan teenagers who I talked to earlier. We make eye contact. And then I see something else. A man! A man out swimming along the break. A giant wave comes in; the man sees it and starts paddling. He catches the wave and body surfs it right down the line, perfectly following the shoulder. It is a beautiful ride. There is a calm after the wave. The two teenagers can see the look in my eyes. They know what I am about to do. They shake their heads to indicate the danger. But as I start to swim out, I smile a knowing grin back at them—I know they think I am crazy, but there is nothing to fear out there.

---