Kayaking the Pandemic Jessica Du ‘23

KAYAKING THE PANDEMIC

Jessica Du

I have had the same dream, the same repeated memory, over two weeks. Immediately upon arriving, it is love at rst sight. A turquoise-blue stream looms in the distance, winding its merry way towards me. Babbling, the sound from the stream lls up the tranquil scenery; the precipitous valley stands protectively beside the stream and listens together with me. Near the shore, pebbles whisk about in the undercurrent like pieces of glitter. Lush sunlight spears through the clouds and bathes the sand, the water surface, and everything in droplets of gold. e stream glints with little sparkles, like a thousand fairies blinking their eyes and inviting me to join them in the stream. I sink deep into the conversation with the stream, but right on the spot, my father cuts through and takes me away to join the instruction class on kayaking. My father found the kayaking site address while poking through a worn-down New Zealand tourist book in a restaurant one day, and without previous planning, we changed our schedule to try kayaking. In the wooden cabin, the instructor rst presents a swift 15-minute rafting class, going through a list of the basic techniques, then he turns on the TV, and in front of my eyes, again, are the unbelievable beauties of the stream. e limpid water is dynamic as an actor, briskly switching from tranquil to angry without a moment of hesitation, splashing in clusters of white bubbles. Living in the city for my whole life, I never imagined seeing such beautiful scenery face-to-face. When the instructor leads us to the stream, my anxiety nally pours back in; I realize that I still don’t have a single clue on how to kayak. e instructor partners me with my father in one boat and pushes us hard into the kayaking party. en, the problem starts. In the beginning, my father and I row slowly and meticulously; we row along with the rhythms of the stream and relax while the water carries us forward. Suddenly, like a switch of the light bulb o and on, the stream turns against us, and my world ips upside down. e waves collide with each other, jumping up to form high peaks or diving down to create whirlpools. Like sitting on the roller coaster right before it plunges, a piercing cry of fear bursts from my heart. My father panics, and a split-second later, we lose control of the kayak and fall into the tumbling water. is time, I am the pebble tossed around carelessly by the treacherous force hidden beneath the shimmering golden surface of the stream; the two banks are opposite teams, and I am the rope in their tug of war. Water rushes into my nose, and soon my mouth is gaping wide to gulp down gallons of water. Using my last breath, I manage to reach the shore. “Daddy… Dad…? ” I frantically call out, scanning at the stream for signs of my Dad before my tears blur my vision. For the rst time in my life, I feel imminent danger to my safety; I can see the outstretched hand of death in front, approaching me with an invitation. I back away and bump into my Dad, who still has the nerve to playfully nudge my face. I immediately throw myself in for a hug as tears start cascading down my face. e bawling sound from my cry startles me back to reality. For the third time this month, I have dreamt about the same kayaking trip. I look across my bed, beside the calendar, at a clock illuminated: 1:00 pm. What a bummer—I’m waking up late again at noon. On the almost torn-down calendar, red crosses already ll up the Christmas holiday dates. ey were words put up in August, such as my perfect skiing plans to try my rst ever skiing experience in America. I cross them out and replace them with nothing. If you pick up any random month’s paper torn from my calendar in 2020, you will see that I canceled many trips around the world. I missed watching amenco dance in Spain or riding in a hot air balloon in Turkey, watching the sun watercolor the sky with soft radiating orange. With Covid-19 accompanying us for almost a year now, my life ipped upside down, just like falling o the kayak. First, it started with a dangerous 14-hour ight back to China in hazmat suits, plus the 14 days quarantine in a hotel, then followed by the announcement of closing borders between the two countries and the canceling of ights to return to America. As if these were not enough, my school year began with a schedule of midnight zoom classes and unimaginable waves of loneliness, longing for my friends who all live across the globe.

KAYAKING THE PANDEMIC | Jessica Du (continued)

I rst comforted myself with a stoic notion that normalcy was approaching. Soon, my irritation grew into impatience and helplessness: the same insecurity I felt after I reached for the shore in my dream. In turn, I sheltered myself from new ideas or suggestions from my family, con ned my movement to the bed all day, and grieved for everything. Sometimes, the guilt for the loss of control over my life dissolved into tears that trickled down my face. Like sinking into the deep hollowness of the water, I fumbled for a solution, but to no avail. I chew on my still-vivid dream again, trying to nd an explanation for its frequent occurrence. e story feels real but incomplete, like a cake missing the cherry for the nal look. “Click.” I can almost hear the sound resonating in my head as my brain nally connects the dots for the long-forgotten memory. Flashback to eight years ago, the same kayaking trip. After I calm down, I familiarize myself with the surroundings. e steep valleys, which gave a reliable protectiveness in the morning, now only convey the formidable threat of falling rock. “Let’s go,” my father calls, surging forward to walk on the narrow strait of the valley. “What are we doing? Can’t you ask for help through the emergency walkie-talkie?” I scramble to get up, only to nd my legs trembling from the aftershock. Stumbling, I sit back down again. “If I could nd the bag with the walkie-talkie through the frenzied water down there.” My father points at the stream and eagerly starts his hiking up the valley. Uncomfortable indecisiveness rings in my head as I frantically try to see if I can come up with a better solution, which I resolve ten seconds later to a blatant no. We soon start our walk along the edge of the valley. is walk gradually changes my regretful attitude for the previous kayaking trip because we encounter numerous unexpected opportunities. Occasionally, we come face-to-face with a sheep or cow who trailed o from the ock for some fresh grass on the slope. I can even make out the wrinkles around their eyes and hear the clashing of their teeth as they munch the grass. We are constantly on the brink of touching the animals as we venture on the narrow, muddy trail; this experience is like discovering an unexpected diamond from a rock. Living in a city crowded with human beings who pay to see animals in the zoo, it is hard to fathom such close contact with animals. We stagger on, and two hours later, we arrive at the cabin drenched in mud and sweat, looking like two fugitive criminals. Even though I am exhausted from the trip, I can only feel genuine happiness in taking on this absurd adventure that ends successfully with our safe return. Today, only gratitude lls my head as I re ect on the ending of the whole event. Besides the once-in-alifetime drowning and sightseeing experience, my kayaking trip taught me to take up challenges fearlessly because there will always exist a way out, and all that is needed is a positive attitude like my father’s. Unconsciously, the trip impacted my later decision to take up new challenges like giving a public speech or participating in high school debate tournaments. ese events forced me to overcome my anxieties about speaking in public or making decisions; they also further strengthened my practice by helping me to keep a cheerful attitude even under stressful conditions. In a way, I am thankful that the pandemic erased my calendar and created the space for me to appreciate the matters I took for granted before, like the ability to travel around the world each year. During the extra time with myself, I recollect the lesson that a positive and fearless attitude towards a problem will end the story well, just as it did for my kayaking trip in New Zealand eight years ago. After all, what could be worse than falling o the kayak and venturing back home like escaped criminals?