My Peru: Beautiful Beach, Gorgeous Woman, Painful Sea Urchin

Enjoying Miraflores Beach in Lima (even after I stepped on a sea urchin).

There’s a whole array of solo sports that require balance for success – skateboarding, hula-hooping, that two-piece contraption where you have to stand on a rolling wooden board and not fall on your face etc. And I’ve been a fan of most of them. There’s something especially satisfying about being badass at a game all on your own.

But I’ve always steered clear of surfing.

I spent my childhood California summers watching my cousins sprint their way to the Western coast while I sat on the beach with an oversized hat and a range of very cute one-piece swimsuits. I always said it was because playing at the beach was childish, but I’m actually terrified of the ocean. It’s on my list of very original fears with spiders and an army of small mice in the night.

Years went by, I kept hula-hooping. I own an even larger collection of swimsuits now, but my fear of the ocean remains. I was able to keep the phobia on the DL until my first months living in Peru.

I got off my Turkish Airlines flight from the States so excited for the year of steady ceviche eating and pisco sours.

I. Was. So. Ready. I also had a pending handle on my neighborhood near the coastline with no interest in actually entering the water. Until a friend in the form of a disrespectfully beautiful Peruvian Literature PhD student invited me to the water one weekend. Don’t worry, the panic in my soul didn’t show in my eyes when she asked me. I played it cool. Until I made it to the coastline.

Saturdays at Miraflores Beach are packed with families, tourists in wetsuits, pastel umbrellas and vendors selling overpriced water.

It’s basically Southern California so the flashbacks started coming.

“You ready to surf?” she asked. I just stared at her. She was definitely still gorgeous but this stare was the paralyzing fear in action.

“What?”

“The water…you have your swimsuit right?” Yikes. This was the moment where I had to put on my big girl panties and pretend I’m not a human with a generally formed prefrontal cortex that’s still afraid of the ocean. I dropped my designated lounging towel on the rocky beach and made my way into water with a forced smile.

Then I received an undeserved gift from a collection of divine entities from above — I stepped on a sea urchin.

“Aaahhhh, the pain!” This was my moment. This was drama, I am drama. Time to channel Joanne the Scammer. I had to work this moment like it was my last shining day.

Naturally the beautiful PhD student was concerned for my wellbeing because she was a decent person with morals, so we spent the next 45 minutes poking out the tiny black spokes in the bottom of my left foot. BUT, I did make my way into the ocean that day, I was knee-deep and I call that success.

I like to think I took advantage of an opportunity to truly enjoy Miraflores Beach that day.

The sun was shining, and I ate my fair share of fresh beach-sold mango while nursing my battle wounds. The water was glistening. Slight waves offered a glorious ambiance and an easily navigated obstacle course for those who did chose to surf. I also learned that my fears are translatable cross-culturally.

I promise, Miraflores Beach is (usually) 100% safe and beautiful, so go.