It's Okay to Be Adventurous
If those that know me today met me as a child, they would not be able to recognize me. When I was a child, I hated trying out new things. I loathed the idea of a change in the environment that I knew so well. Considering how much I love traveling today, I have no idea why that was the case. For instance, when I grew old enough to go to kindergarten, I refused wholeheartedly. I hid in the dark, wood-smelling closet, cried and screeched that I would not go, and winced at the idea of a new place even when I was sleeping. It took my parents months of persuading to get the idea of elementary school into my head. I eventually did not have a choice but to go. There, I adjusted. Nevertheless, I still did not enjoy surprises.
Swimming was not an exception. When I first entered elementary school, my sister was in fifth grade. She went to Hyang Gun Hwae Gwan once a week to participate in the musical production that she was a part of. I often went with my mother to wait for her practices to end. It typically took hours, and I had nothing to do but to sit in the car with my mom until I dozed off to sleep. My mom eventually decided that I had to spend my time more productively. That was when the building started feeling like a devil's house. I had to try out something new.
It all started out with my mom coaxing me to try out the "pretty new swimming suit." It was actually not pretty at all. It was black, sleek, and extremely tight fitting. It bit into my shoulders as well as other parts of the body. The lady that sold it to us claimed that it would stretch itself out in the water. I did not feel comfortable in it at all. It was not an ordinary swimming suit, like the yellow one that I used to wear as a baby. The swimming suit was the kind that professional swimmers would wear, although mom and I both did not know at the time.
Then she tied my hair up into a tight ponytail, higher up than usual, and put the white rubber swimming cap on.
"Mom, this feels weird," I complained.
"I know honey. But don't you want to see how pretty you'll look in the new outfit? And let's just take a look at the swimming pool. You don't have to swim- just take a look!"
I still don't understand, to this day, how I managed not to question her. My mom, constantly assuring me that everything was going to be okay, slowly walked me through the hollow locker room, across the humid washing area, down to the gigantic hall of swimming pools. There, a strange man dressed in a single black triangle swimming suit and a white swimming cap was waiting for us. My mom told me to be nice, and to say hello. The moment I took a step away from my mom to be polite as my mother told me to be, she ran off.
"He's going to be your teacher for the next few hours! Have fun dear!"
I could not believe what was happening to me. I was left alone with this strange man in an underwear. The swimming pool was a very big place for me back then, with seven 25-meter pools that seemed like lanes from hell, as well as a mini pool for little kids which seemed like a bathtub for devils. The entire hall stunk of chlorine, and my ears rang from the shock and the whistle and screeches that other people made. I felt betrayed.
The strange man - my teacher - led me to the side of the pool to choose a piece of Styrofoam that was supposed to keep me from sinking. Still dazed, I chose a blue one, my favorite color at the time, and kept glancing back at the glass door that my mom disappeared into. The board was not yet wet with the stinky chlorine water yet, and felt smooth and dry in my hands. As I felt the board, tightly clutched into my arms, I told myself that I was going to keep it this way - nice and dry, unlike everything else in this hall of pools.
The teacher then walked me towards the mini pool. He gently - he seemed like a kidnapper to me at the time - asked me if I wanted to try myself. I asked whether he knew where my mother was. He pointed to the window, placed on one wall near the ceiling of the swimming pool. I found her at once, sitting among the other ladies waiting for their children. When my mother met my eyes, she gave me an awkward smile and waved. As I walked into the lukewarm pool, still clutching the dry foam board with one hand and holding onto the cold metal bar of the pool with the other, I burst into tears.
It was a long time ago - fourteen years, maybe? I don't remember the details, but I still remember how I cried myself out throughout the next two hours of lesson. I managed to do everything that my teacher told me to do since I did not want to be rude to him. That did not keep me from crying, however. I cried so much that I had to stop every once in a while to wash the tears out of my goggles. My entire body, submerged in the pool, smelled like chlorine. I could not tell the smell apart anymore. My eyes felt hot from crying, and cool from the water of the pool at the same time. The swimming suit still bit into my shoulders - the sales lady was a liar. The swimming cap squeezed onto my head and kept me from feeling my forehead. I did not forget to throw resentful glares at my mother once in a while.
The swimming pool was a place that reminded me of that day for a while. I can still almost smell the chlorine whenever I hear the song that my mother always played in the car on our way to the lesson. I still feel the remnants of those first memories. This was a meaningful place, however, because I actually did end up liking swimming after all. I was actually very good at it. I won first place in the school swimming competitions, and was asked if I wanted to become a professional. The teacher that was in charge of the professional kids' swimming team tried to coax me with the "pretty blue professional team swimming suits," but of course I did not fall for it. I enjoyed swimming for itself, and I had become friends with my teacher already. Looking back, that was the experience that helped me become more adventurous. With that as a start, I started enjoying trying out new things.
I really like the casual tone of your essay, it makes me feel as though you're telling the story to me personally. I could feel this very strongly in lines such as "It was a long time ago - fourteen years, maybe?" Your rhetorical question feels as though we are having an actual conversation. It was a nice touch. You also have brief and concise sentences which makes reading all the more easier. This can be seen in your description of the place. You don't go on about one detail for too long but add many short details. Perhaps though, you could have elaborated just a bit on 'Hyang Gun Hwae Gwan', I am able to get a sense of what it is but a short description would have been good too. You got most of the senses down but there was a slight lack of hearing. You did include some dialogue but maybe adding certain sounds you heard at the pool would have enhanced your essay further. Furthermore, I can feel the atmosphere of this place through your experience more than anything because of your specific emotions and this transitions as your emotions change. So from a strange and somewhat cold atmosphere, it goes to a lighter mood. I suppose you wrote about this place because more than memories it holds for you, it contributed in building your personality and that's why it is so important to you.
ReplyDeleteIt's Okay to Be Adventurous
ReplyDelete201501855 Jung Aa Ahn
If those that know me today met me as a child, they will not recognize me. As a child, I hated trying out new things. I loathed the idea of any kind of change at all. When I grew old enough to go to kindergarten, I hid in the dark, wood-smelling closet, cried and screeched that I would not go, and winced at the idea of a new place even when I was sleeping until my parents gave up. It took my parents months of persuading to get the idea of elementary school into my head. I hated changes.
Swimming was not an exception. When I first entered elementary school, my sister was in fifth grade. She was more adventurous, and was trying herself at different things to see what she did and did not like. Taking part in a musical production which had its practices every week at a local community center, Hyang Gun Hwae Gwan, was one of them. I often went with my mother to wait for her practices to end. It typically took about three hours, and I had nothing to do but to sit in the car with my mom until I dozed off to sleep. My first impression of the place actually was not that bad. My sister had fun there, and I loved whatever my sister did. The building actually was beautiful. Because it was a place that was also used for weddings, it had a gorgeous main hall, where I often went while waiting. I loved the chandelier at the lobby that glistened in the afternoon sunlight. The marble floors were always sleek and shiny. This all changed when my mom decided that I had to spend my time more productively. That was when the building started feeling like a devil's house.
It all started out with my mom taking me to the undergrounds. That was where the swimming arena was. It had a very different atmosphere from the main hall. The lights were white, unlike the warm, yellow glow of the chandeliers at the main hall. Some of the lights actually were not working at all, and some were blinking its last life out. Because the ceilings were high, whatever sound that I made slightly echoed until it met the other noises of the people who were busily shopping. The air had a strange, moldy, maybe chlorine taste to it, and felt slightly cold. As I started to sense that something was wrong, my mother turned my attention.
She first coaxed me to try out the "pretty new swimming suit." I could not agree with her though. It was actually not pretty at all. It was black, sleek, and extremely tight fitting. It bit into my shoulders as well as other parts of the body. The lady that sold it to us claimed that it would stretch itself out in the water. She told us to try it out in the bathroom. I did not feel comfortable in it at all. It was not an ordinary swimming suit, like the yellow one that I used to wear as a baby. The swimming suit was the kind that professional swimmers would wear, although mom and I both did not know at the time. Regardless, mom tied my hair up into a tight ponytail, higher up than usual, and put the white rubber swimming cap on.
"Mom, this feels weird," I complained.
Delete"I know honey. But don't you want to see how pretty you'll look in the new outfit? And let's just take a look at the swimming pool. You don't have to swim- we’ll just take a look, I promise!"
I still don't understand, to this day, how I managed not to question her. My mom, constantly assuring me that everything was going to be okay, slowly walked me through the hollow locker room, across the humid and obnoxiously loud washing area, down to the gigantic hall of swimming pools. There, a strange man dressed in a single black triangle swimming suit and a white swimming cap was waiting for us. My mom told me to be nice, and to say hello. The moment I took a step away from my mom to be polite as my mother told me to be, she ran off.
"He's going to be your teacher for the next few hours! Have fun dear!"
I could not believe what was happening to me. I was left alone with this strange man in an underwear. The swimming pool was a very big place for me back then, with seven 25-meter pools that seemed like lanes from hell, as well as a mini pool for little kids which seemed like a bathtub for devils. The entire hall stunk of chlorine, and my ears rang from the shock and the whistle and screeches that other people made. I felt betrayed.
The strange man - my teacher - led me to the side of the pool to choose a piece of Styrofoam that was supposed to keep me from sinking. Still dazed, I chose a blue one, my favorite color at the time, and kept glancing back at the glass door that my mom disappeared into. The board was not yet wet with the stinky chlorine water yet, and felt smooth and dry in my hands. As I felt the board, tightly clutched into my arms, I told myself that I was going to keep it this way - nice and dry, unlike everything else in this hall of pools.
The teacher then walked me towards the mini pool. He gently - he seemed like a kidnapper to me at the time - asked me if I wanted to try myself. I asked whether he knew where my mother was. He pointed to the window, placed on one wall near the ceiling of the swimming pool. I found her at once, sitting among the other ladies waiting for their children. When my mother met my eyes, she gave me an awkward smile and waved. As I walked into the lukewarm pool, still clutching the dry foam board with one hand and holding onto the cold metal bar of the pool with the other, I burst into tears.
It was a long time ago - fourteen years, maybe? I don't remember the details, but I still remember how I cried myself out throughout the next two hours of lesson. I managed to do everything that my teacher told me to do since I did not want to be rude to him. That did not keep me from crying, however. I cried so much that I had to stop every once in a while to wash the tears out of my goggles. My entire body, submerged in the pool, smelled like chlorine. I could not tell the smell apart anymore. My eyes felt hot from crying, and cool from the water of the pool at the same time. The swimming suit still bit into my shoulders - the sales lady was a liar. The swimming cap squeezed onto my head and kept me from feeling my forehead. I did not forget to throw resentful glares at my mother once in a while.
The swimming pool was a place that reminded me of that day for a while. I can still almost smell the chlorine whenever I hear the song that my mother always played in the car on our way to the lesson. I still feel the remnants of those first memories. This was a meaningful place, however, because I actually did end up liking swimming after all. I was actually very good at it. I won first place in the school swimming competitions, and was asked if I wanted to become a professional. The teacher that was in charge of the professional kids' swimming team tried to coax me with the "pretty blue professional team swimming suits," but of course I did not fall for it. I enjoyed swimming for itself, and I had become friends with my teacher already. Looking back, that was the experience that helped me become more adventurous. With that as a start, I started enjoying trying out new things.
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