The Bus Toward The Sea

by Mia Musa-Green (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

I didn't expect to find Spain

I watched as the number 41 pulled up, parked and opened its doors - welcoming travelers into its safe interior. I stepped on, unbeknownst to what I would discover. We traveled through the outskirts of Girona’s busy city center into quiet and quaint towns, brimming with culture. Rich orange buildings were iced with slathers of cream paint. Hibiscus trees lined each road, embellished with a myriad of flowers. I turned and tried to make out each shape, watching blurs of pink and purple petals melt into the landscape. In each town stood a chapel, with streams of faithful attendees pouring in and out of the structure. With new towns met new tourists and what was once an empty bus gradually began to fill. A cacophony of noise began to pour out from the vehicle; families shouting, children screaming and couples kissing. They sought to find a haven away from home. This was my first time traveling alone. After weeks of scouring the internet for the perfect flight, I decided on sunny Spain. I prayed for a break from months of stress, only to be met with a feeling I had suppressed until that very moment. A memory I thought was gone had resurfaced. I was in Rock, Cornwall. We visited the beach and decided to brave the sting of the Atlantic. I remember crawling out of the neon yellow rubber dingy and sinking into the icy water. I slipped underneath without anyone noticing. The absence of ground beneath my feet started to become unsettling. I twisted and turned, hoping to find help. The deep blue stretched miles in every direction. The ocean held me tightly underwater. I made it out. My dad found me, but I was left with the memories of the cold, hindering me from swimming in deep water ever since. Our bus journey ended and we arrived in Plaja D’aro, a coastal town with shops, arcades and restaurants to satisfy coaches full of tourists. The warmth of the bus could not match this Sun, its heat began to permeate into my skin. I followed the signs towards the beach. I arrived and stepped barefoot onto the sand. I started to feel the heat beneath me, my friend’s descriptions could never truly explain how hot sand abroad truly was. It began to burn. Each granule latched onto a patch of my skin, squeezing until my feet turned scarlet. Each step worsened my pain, so I sped towards the water. The blue seeped between my toes and softly collected the sand, taking it out to sea. I took a second step in and the water caressed my ankles, soothing my peeling, sunburnt skin. Standing knee-deep in the cool ocean, I calmed my frantic breath and decided to fully submerge. What once brought pain now brought comfort. I felt my skin soften and muscles ease as I swam underwater. The sun illuminated my blue surroundings, allowing me to navigate without fear. The ocean was calm. For the first time, I floated in the water. I was no longer met with the worries of what was beneath. I took the last bus back to my hostel, to a house full of familiar faces. I didn't expect to find myself in those cool waters.