Monday, August 11, 2025 / Water temp 20C / Air temp 19.5 C. / Overcast.
Today at the lake, I swam in the sea. The fucking Baltic Sea. OMG, it made me so happy.
It took me 30 minutes to get there on my bike, so I was tired when I arrived and kind of wanted to bail. The wind felt chilly, and I was having my doubts. But I never pass up a swim once I make it to the beach, so I got in anyway.
I was the only one at the pier, so I also wondered if I was dumb for getting in the water. Should I walk to the other pier where there were a couple of swimmers?
The water felt much colder than two days away because the sun was hiding. I knew I’d warm up eventually, but I also knew that I wanted to swim to the other pier. I suck at estimating things, so I had a tiny fear that I would make it half way and not have the energy to continue. Or I’d get super could and freeze, die, sink. Naturally, I dove in and started swimming against the current to my destination. Why is it easier to push fear aside when I’m in the water?
The cold jolts me awake, opens my brain, and gives me focus. At the same time, I can feel thoughts and worries and “to does” drift away.
Also, it’s funny that I am often swimming against the current. I struggle to do, or to care about, things that other people do so easily. My therapist says to embrace my “neurodiversity,” a label she sprung on me a few months ago. I guess I don’t mind, but it’s hard to learn about more things that make me different. I don’t mind the differences, but I get really sick of other people minding. Like when people offer to help me with things they sometimes judge the way I do it. We all have our preferences.
I loved seeing all the textures and colors underwater. Long, pointy grassy weeds whose bright green hue made them really pop against the ragged, lettuce-like fronds of browning seaweed. I wonder what color the were before they got brown. There were white tendrils sticking up in the water. Every now and then one brushed against my arm. It didn’t bother me because the leafy things couldn’t touch me; those were freaky. I loved seeing the white sand in little patches through the seaweeds. I wanted to see fancy shells, some fish.
I didn’t wear my pink cap because I wanted to feel the cold water on my scalp, but I noticed that it made it hard to see when I pulled up to site. Note to self: wear the cap next time.
I tried to pace myself because I couldn’t tell how long would take me to reach the next pier, which is the pier I swam from when I was here in 2023. I love using my snorkel because I can keep my head underwater and see everything as I glide over it.
I saw a little fish! He was maybe 4 inches long and sort of tall, like round instead of pointy. I only caught a glimpse because he dashed behind a leaf.
I kept pulling up to sight, but I didn’t feel like I was making much progress. I tried to wait longer in between times I checked, and then I finally saw that I was getting closer. In fact, I was a bit disappointed in how quickly I made it to the other pier because I wanted to be in the water for 30 minutes.
There was a yellow floaty thingy near the pier, so I swam to it, climbed aboard (not very elegant, but I managed to fling my chubby self on top), and just stayed in the prone position for a few seconds before sitting up. I’m not good at just sitting, so I scooted into the water to swim back to the pier.
I wasn’t sure what to do because I was so tired but didn’t want to get out of the water. I decided it was better to get out since I still had to ride the bike home. The wind felt cold against my wet body, but I didn’t mind it. I chatted briefly with a Swedish couple sitting on the bench across from me. The thought 20C was too cold. I assured them that it was refreshing. I was a bit disappointed when I checked my tracker and saw that I had only been in the water for 20 minutes, but the very next thought was, “can I swim to the pier and back next time.” Always goal-oriented. Also, better to quit while I’m ahead and build up to my usual 30 minutes.
I dried off with my cool Turkish towel. I don’t care how much space it takes up in my suitcase; it’s a vital part of my kit. I put on my mumu, which looked much more flattering on the Etsy page than it does on me, and waddled down the long pier. I had to walk all the way back to the bike lot at the other pier, so it took me a few minutes. As I was leaving two dads and their three kids arrived on their two cargo bikes. As their kids tumbled out of the cargos the one man noticed the banjo song from Deliverance on his speaker. Of course I talked to them. We agreed it was a good movie, shocking, but sort of a bummer for the association it left on banjo music. Also, why isn’t it shocking that horrific things are done to women in movies all the time, and nobody seems to remember.
On the way home I stopped at the bike station to rinse off the sand caked to my shoes, and helped a lady fill her tire with air. Neither of us were sure how to do it or if the tire would explode, but I wanted to help since so many people have helped me in the past.
Now I am home, wondering what to make for dinner. The cleaning service spiffed up my room and left new towels. So nice! I am a pro at trashed hotel rooms. My tiny studio apt is so organized and simple. I love it.
I wish I had a bit more room and a reclining chair, but other than that, it’s really all I need.
The sun is finally out. Tomorrow I see my cousin. Finally, I am starting to feel more on the side of “I’m here” versus “what’s left to do from the place I left.”
Thank you, sea. Thank you, Sweden.