A Trip to Mexico. 40 Tons of Beauty.

The alarm rang at 4:30 in the morning, and I leaped out of bed, still buzzing with excitement.

I have to admit, setting the alarm felt daunting, especially when my phone mockingly announced, "You have 5 hours left to wake up."

What would I do without you, dear technology...

Well.

By 4:50, I stood at the docks, where a small research boat awaited—a vessel for about six people, equipped with an underwater microphone, a speaker, and a canvas roof.

The sea was tranquil that day, embodying the calm characteristic of sunrises and sunsets when the wind vanishes, and the world pauses for a few precious moments.

As we ventured into the open sea, the moon shone brilliantly, and even in my half-asleep state, its reflection dazzled me, gradually awakening my senses.

There I was, in silence, with my thoughts. And I recall one dominant sentiment:

"What a luxury to be here now."

Amid a global pandemic, I found myself in the only place in the world where there was still freedom—Mexico.

Knowing that people were confined and suffering while I breathed the pure air of the open sea made me feel the pressure to savor every second on their behalf.

Lost in gratitude, suddenly, I froze, captivated by the spectacle.

A 40-ton, 15-meter-long giant emerged entirely from the water, bowing as if welcoming us before plunging back into the water, rocking our boat, and splashing us with its force.

I felt like the most important person in the universe.

Just seconds later, right behind us, we heard a splash!

A colossal tail greeted us, slapping the water—once, twice, seven times in a row.

My smile was indelible.

We continued a bit further, and seven humpback whales decided to join us. They gracefully accompanied us, dipping their heads in and out of the water.

In my mind, the soundtrack was inevitable:

"Carry me boldly,

lift me up slowly,

carry me there..."

I know Willy was an orca, but our brains have their quirks, and mine more so.

I'm not sure It's common, but I often mentally add a soundtrack to epic moments in my life.

For example, every single Christmas light I see, "It's the most wonderful time of the year..." pops into my head right away.

Anyway...

There were mothers, babies, and males leaping in all directions, up to 40 whales in sight.

It was the best show I’d ever seen—completely irreplaceable. It was the biologists' first trip of the season, and I knew I had to be on that boat—I was determined to secure my spot.

During a pandemic with the world on pause, with no tourists bothering, the humpback whales had arrived in the area, beginning their courting season, where males displayed their full splendor to woo females.

Their jumps were like today's salsa or the rock 'n' roll of my parents' era. That was their way of courting, and they were really giving it their all that day.

Seeing animals in their purest state is a privilege, and when it comes to whales, it's immensely profound.

We spent five hours there, watching and smiling. It felt like I gained 10 years of life that day, although, for me, it was like five minutes. I didn't want to leave.

Don’t tell anyone, but I even had to go into the water to pee because I didn't want to leave early. I assure you it was the fastest pee of my life. And don't look at me like that; We’ve all done it in the sea—even you.

Aside from the TMI, you know that feeling when you have a secret that no one else knows, and you feel important just because of it?

That's how I felt when I returned to solid ground—empowered, important, fortunate, unique.

There are sensations that some feel when they run into some famous movie star on the street. For me, that feeling comes when nature surprises me.

It makes sense.

Studies confirm the impact nature has on us. We are part of it, and when we connect, stress disappears, mood skyrockets, fatigue vanishes, insomnia dissipates, and our attention returns to the present.

And there are still people who say they prefer concrete.

It's your call, gentlemen. I'll stick with the sea.

Carefully, though.

"Careful with what, Angy? Sharks, jellyfish?"

No, be careful with us. Sometimes we are terrible.

A few months later, I decided to embark on another adventure.

This time, I went swimming with whale sharks.

What a huge mistake!

Being something specific to a certain area and time, for some reason, I assumed it wouldn't be a massive outing. This time, I didn't bother to check if it was a boat respectful of nature and non-invasive to the animals.

Big mistake.

The trip started poorly, about 2 or 3 hours on a boat to the location with waves that make Six Flags' tallest roller coaster seem mild.

Upon arrival, the scene was horrifying. Dozens of boats surrounded the same point, chasing the poor whale shark left and right. People were jumping on it, everyone yelling loudly.

I couldn't believe it. Do we do this for real?

As the daughter of a marine biologist, I've always sought a respectful approach to animals. And, that was a full-blown invasion.

I had to jump into the water because I had already vomited six times (to keep going with the gross details), and the boat was going to continue that up-and-down motion for another 3 hours. I couldn't take it.

Upon jumping, a mouth one meter wide came towards me. I was stunned. He was beautiful.

When it reached my height, it turned, revealing a body about 8 meters long. Once again, I was gaping, swallowing water.

That animal was a beauty, and we were scaring him. I got back on the boat feeling nauseated, impressed, and horrified, begging them to take us back to shore.

The way back was no less absurd.

People throwing up overboard, running out of gas in open water, and a series of adversities warned us that we shouldn't be there.

Not like that.

So that's how an event that could have been unique, just turned into a horror show.

I love Mexico, and I love its people, but I hope that particular activity is soon banned.

If you want to see a whale shark, take a diving course, get in the water for real, join a small group that doesn't invade the animal's space, and observe it with respect.

As impressed as I was by that beauty, I almost wish I’d never seen the whale shark.

If you'd like to read more about Mexico, here you go.

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