Jellyfish Jumpers and Sunglass Swimmers

The big, orange jellyfish were invisible to the teenagers jumping into the sea, but they were the first thing I noticed.

How could you swim amongst them and not wonder what a jellyfish hug would feel like? Were their long, stingy tentacles warm or cold? Might the jellies try to give you a tickle?

The orange creatures were probably silently cursing. Noisy humans getting entangled in them must be as annoying as knots in long hair or leaves caught in a spider web.

I could barely lift my eyes off the floating jellyfish while I was walking on the wooden planks above the water. A quick check: Blue ones not stingy, orange ones stingy. These were most certainly orange, but perhaps the locals knew what they were doing.

I carefully tucked my phone away, since the planks’ spaces were just the right size for slippery, escape-plotting phones. The sea bottom must be full of them. I imagined jellyfish reading long lost Whatsapp conversations in the fading blue lights of phones blinking sleepily.

The harbour of Copenhagen, right next to my hotel, was a vibrant place for a walk. But beauty is in the eye of the beholder – an acquaintance had stayed at the same hotel and told me how boring Copenhagen was. “All the buildings looked the same.” I nodded, but didn’t really agree. During my walks, I’d marvelled at the new architecture and its urban quirkiness. It paired well with the old buildings and had in no way been boring, from where I was standing.

While my acquantaince was telling me of her experience, I pictured the little triangle-shaped area at the bottom of an office building where we ran to shelter from rain. Opposite, another building showed off intricate elephant decorations. My kid stood there, wiggling his wobbling upper tooth, and I took a photo.

The teenagers jumping into the harbour were living life to its fullest, it seemed. Those noisy and splashy jumps on a chilly, grey summer day would be moments they’d remember when they were older. The freedom of that summer. They weren’t glued to their phones like I was.

A month later, I was swimming in one of Helsinki’s few outdoors pools. I have a love-hate relationship with this pool, a place where people compete in levels of seriosity. My level of seriosity was low, since I was wearing my big, Hollywood sunglasses and mismatching bikinis. I’m always impressed at how the sunnies stay on even when I duck underwater to change lanes.

The serious, road raging type of swimmer is never seen without goggles. Usually this species can be recognized by the addition of a swimming cap and sporty swimwear.

Goggles: Feisty. Sunglasses: Hedonistic. The goggled specimen are occasionally seen to jump on or swim over their uncompetitive counterparts. Stinging tentacles would be useful.

What kind of swimmer are you?