Komiza is a little Mediterranean fishing village on the island of Vis. In signature Vis-style, it has beautiful azure beaches (with a church in sight), scintillating sun and story-book-cute stone houses.
It is also the base to visit the Blue Cave. I was fascinated.. first, it’s a cave- And not just a normal cave, it’s blue- you don’t need to get me any more excited than that! I was going.
The owner of the villa we were renting drove us to the village. He kept mentally preparing us on the way that it was a very windy day, so no boats may agree to take us to the cave.
When we reached Komiza, the travel office was equally tentative. After much ado, it turned out there was a group of equally adamant ladies going to the Cave, and a brave boatsman who insisted he was the only one who could do it. The travel lady checked one final time, “The waters are going to be very choppy. Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Yes, sure!”
“And also, the entrance to the cave is very small. You are not claustrophobic by any chance?”
“No, we’re fine.” We hopped in.
Here’s the thing: If there were such a title, I would be Queen of Motion-Sickness. Cars, buses, airplanes, rocking boats, you name it. And I am claustrophobic.
At that moment, I simply forgot. My husband generously calls it courage. But I have to be honest, it’s a combination of forgetfulness and foolishness. I basically forget any travel-trauma, which makes it possible to do it again. And I’m mostly unable to forecast consequences, so I only focus on what I want.
So here we were on the speed-boat. And boy, was it some crazy-son-of-a-gun devil piece of machinery! It flew up into the air every time it rode a wave, and landed on each trough with a thud. The driver seemed intent on shaking us off his boat like we had no business being there. I watched in wonderment as a lady began to get sick..
We docked and got into an even smaller boat to enter the cave. At this point, another lady volunteered to drop out on hearing the cave-mouth was only 1 meter wide.
This smaller boat rode leisurely up and down the giant waves. We braced our knees to avoid hitting our heads as we entered the cave. Inside- it was beautiful! Much like I had pictured in my mind..
Even in the stillness of the cave, the boat kept going up and down, and left and right.. a slow motion dance.. grabbing my stomach by the arm onto the dance floor. Over the next 15-20 minutes, my biggest effort was to keep from getting sick. The moment we were back at the dock, I was hunched and balled over on the ground in a nauseous torture.
It wasn’t over yet. Our travel companions, the six ladies were waiting for us to board the devil speed-boat back to Komiza. They had seen me hunched up, and were absolutely excellent. One of them taught my husband couple of acupressure points on my hand for quick relief. Another lady warmly held my other hand.
She was from Manchester, I learnt. All of them were on a Yoga retreat in Vis from all over the world- Netherlands, England, South Africa. I had noticed right from the start that there was something wonderfully positive about our travel companions. Many of them were in one way or another small way, also facing their fears while on this experience.
Now, I’m aware how this can come across in any number of ways. But there is this undeniable fact: These ladies, had each by themselves, decided they wanted to bring more positivity into their lives, and were consciously dedicating time, energy and resources in walking the talk. I don’t know how much the Yoga worked for them, but making a commitment counts for something. If I go by what I sensed in that boat, it counts for a lot.
“How did you like it?” my husband asked.
“Oh excellent, I could do it again!”
