Scuba Diving in Coron, Philippines by Tim Ghazzawi:
My instructor’s name was Richard aka Wizard aka Wiz. Tongue-pierced and tattooed, Wiz also wore a red ruby ring that he claims makes him a premier member of the San Miguel Brewing company. His phone’s background is a picture of him holding a machine gun. Needless to say, we were different, him and I. Still I clung to every word that Wiz spoke during my open-water dive course. For three days, he was my literal life-saver. A man whose water wisdom helped me survive and even thrive under the Filipino seas.
I’d tried scuba-diving once before. For the most part I remember hating it. The peace I’d hoped to feel replaced by pressure pains and anxiety. I’d all but renounced the activity until recently, two years later, when I decided to give it another shot.
I was in the Philippines with diver friends. They convinced me the certification would be worth it, promised I would be better. It helped that the town of Coron where we were staying is a diver’s paradise. Nine ships, mostly Japanese vessels sunk during WWII, lie at the bottom of nearby waters. Rusted over and reborn as coral beds home to countless colorful fish species, these ships became my classroom. Taught me history and patience, tested my fitness and mental fortitude. Three days. Six dives. And a laundry list of skills I needed to master if I wanted to survive an underwater accident.
It was only minutes into my first lesson, a simple shallow clear dive, when I signaled to Wiz that I wanted to surface. I was panicky. Had forgotten his instructions. Was thinking only of worst-case drowning scenarios. And that’s when he took me by the shoulders and gestured me to breathe in and out. Again and again. And I calmed. Days later, as I swam around the Morazan, a 300-foot long civilian cargo ship, I noticed the hole in its side. A bomb had ripped the ship wide open so that the engine could be lifted out. The black abyss that remains in its place was our final swim-through of our final dive. And for the first time all course, I wanted to go in and not up. The depth and blurriness no longer scary, my breathing normalized, and my desire to stay underwater stronger than ever. Just below the surface, Wiz stopped my dive buddy and I. For a few minutes, we simply floated. Nothing to see above or below us. We exchanged fist bumps and handshakes. Our wide smiles visible even behind our gear.
