Coral reefs boast the title of the most diverse ecosystem in the world, yet I struggle to believe the validity of this statement. I have experienced both majestic coral reefs and the wondrous diversity of humanity. I fail to believe that fish, crustaceans, and invertebrates have the same influence on each other as humans do. We, globally, have the amazing ability to communicate and travel as no other species can. Underwater everything is eerily silent. There is no conversation or laughter, nor the sound of waves crashing into one another. There is no conceivable way to learn verbally, only visually. With a SCUBA tank adhered to my back and a regulator positioned in my mouth, I am unable to express all the perceptions and questions I have, a burdensome task for someone who is known to never stop talking.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my dive buddy, Hannah, trying to get my attention by tapping her wrist, a signal for me to hold up the number of fingers corresponding  to the PSI level shown on my gauge. After knowing Hannah for only seventeen short days, I admired Hannah’s unwavering inner-confidence and intriguing stories about her life in Munich, Germany. Hannah understands and speaks English as if she has been splitting her time between the two countries evenly. Surprisingly, her mastery of the English language consisted only of mandatory high school language courses. I was doubtful that if I had chosen to spend seventeen days in Spain, rather than the Carribean, I would be able to communicate in the same manner as she. The others had just as riveting lives; Andrew spent the past two years at a boarding school in Jordan experiencing an entirely different society and culture, while Cannon spent her summers traveling to Australia to support her twin sister’s music career. I applied for every grant and scholarship available for the opportunity to go SCUBA diving and live out my marine-biology-dreams abroad, but in the Caribbean, I was intrigued and enriched more by meeting these diverse individuals than by the coral and the sea.

Fifty feet under the iridescent water, the coral structures scintillating from the reflection of the mid-day sun, I consider how branching outside of my small Connecticut town has endlessly impacted my attitude, personality, as well as my aspirations. I have learned how to count to ten in German, about the function and future of siderophores in medicine, and all about the ever-famous Cheese-Curds from Wisconsin.  I have a network of friends all over the world that continue to teach me even while I am home, thousands of miles away. I partake in a group messages that center on current events and politics, and another in which participants share photos of newly produced paintings and pottery. Although I may not have an opinion on every matter or have any artwork of my own to contribute, I still appreciate and learn from the perspectives of others. I strive to have experiences that allow me to grow and thrive as an individual, as well as the ability to share the knowledge I have acquired.
My curiosity and willingness to reach out to others provides countless experiences that would otherwise be nonexistent. While the ocean is a vast and mysterious place, I know that I will be far more educated and happy living a life surrounded by people rather than fish. Because of my love of learning and talking, I know that I want to spend the next few years of my life in an environment exposed to as many individuals with new opinions, skills, and life experiences as possible. I have spent a fair share of my time underwater and have concluded that I appreciate the variety of personalities and experiences of humanity much more than the thousands of species of fish.