The meet and greet
I was walking down the potholed road from my hostel to the sea when I spotted a young man carrying a spear gun, snorkel, mask, and fins. Seeing an opportunity for a potential adventure, I quickened my pace to say hello. I asked him the rhetorical “Are you going spearfishing?” question.
He nodded. I excitedly told him I was a good swimmer and I would love to accompany him on his next fishing expedition. He looked at me with curiosity through his long braids. I continued to tell him how the adventure would go, making it up as I spoke. “I’ll swim (float) alongside you and watch you hunt the ocean floor!”, I explained. He smiled, which I took as a silent “I would love to!”
He told me his name was Romain. “Like the lettuce?”, I asked. He looked at me as if I was deranged but politely nodded. Obviously, he did not fully comprehend the multiple varieties of lettuces available at Whole Foods supermarkets. As we parted ways, we made a spearfishing date for the next morning.
The pickup
Romain rang the rusty bell at the hostel gate precisely at 8:45 am (15 minutes before our scheduled 9:00 am engagement). I gulped down my coffee and pulled my knotted hair in a bun and ran out to greet him.
As we made our second walk down to the sea, he asked me if I was the person swimming from the beach up to the cliffs yesterday. I said, “Why yes!” thinking he would be impressed with my swimming prowess. Instead, he said, “You looked so much younger when you were out in the ocean.” Ouch.
Undressing for the occasion
At the water’s edge, Romain handed me a mask, snorkel, and fins. I turned my back and took off my beach coverup. He began to undress. How far was he going? Did I miss the memo of clothing optional? He peeled off a few layers of trunks until he found the swimming ones. I think I was more nervous disrobing in front of a 20-something man than seeing sharks in the water. I dove into the shallow water in hopes that it would quickly cover every imperfection and insecurity I had. It did.
Flailing the first test
My first test was putting on my fins in the rolling sea while someone was watching and perhaps judging. The angry waves sucked me in and spit me out with no regard to what I was doing. My abs ached as I tried to get my fingers and foot into the tight fin. A wave broke on my head and swept me off my feet and sent me rolling in the water like wet laundry in the spin cycle. I bobbed, rolled, and gasped for air as I fought with my fins. I rejoiced when both fins were secure and realized Romain started his hunt and was 100 meters ahead.
The weapon
The speargun was simple and lacked any advanced technology like those seen in James Bond movies. The spear was a long rusted rod measuring one meter. I’m guessing the constant impaling of sea creatures kept the point shiny. The handle resembled a handgun grip with soft edges from years of use. The black elastic band used to propel the spear looked like an inner tube ripped from a child’s abandoned bicycle. Primitive but it worked.
The hunt
We swam for 2 hours. Romain dove deep while I floated on the surface. It was like watching TV, but I was wet. He pointed out creatures camouflaged within the coral. I nodded as if I could see them, but couldn’t. Romain had x-ray vision under the water. Whenever he saw an irregular movement, he dove quickly to the bottom of the seafloor and laid waiting, quietly, patiently. How long can he hold his breath? Aren’t his ears bleeding? Romain pierced his prey with sniper-like accuracy. He swam to the top and used his knife to gouge another hole in the fish and threaded a thick green wire through the fleshy hole.
One of the fish’s eyeballs was dangling by a vein. Could it still see? It was tugging to free itself from the wire and my heartstrings until it finally gave up. Romain handed me the green wire with his underwater trophies strung along like Christmas lights hanging from the tree. The line was getting heavy with seven lobsters and six fish and I was getting tired of holding it.
The fight
As we began to swim back towards the beach, Romain perked up and quickly submerged. I also submerged, not wanting to miss the excitement. I wiped the condensation from my mast to see him surrounded by a thick black cloud. Romain looked like he was standing behind an old diesel truck that didn’t pass emissions and was on fire. He was wrestling with a squid! The black ink dissipated with the tide and Romain swam to me with the fleshy squid.
Trophies
With just a few meters to the beach, I let the waves push my tired carcass to the shore. While the turbulent water launched me towards the beach, the backwash sucked me further out. My bathing suit felt like an oceanic colander, collecting all of the sediment of the sea. I stood up with a bottom-heavy with sand and raised my hands. Fins, mask, and snorkel in one hand and the string of fish in the other. My trophies of a great memory. 
