A casual conversation at my niece’s wedding with one of her bridesmaids about her passion for scuba diving, along with her showing photos on her phone to my daughter and me, got us hooked on exploring the underwater world. When she suggested that we try it together—since you always need a buddy to scuba dive—my daughter and I made a commitment to each other to give it a shot. Immediately, I felt incredibly fortunate to live so close to Deepspot, the perfect place for us to earn our certification.

After booking our first lesson, it felt like a countdown to Christmas Eve for my daughter. She talked about it nonstop whenever we spent time together. I was excited too, but also a little nervous. I worried that my age and lack of physical activity might make me accident-prone. Still, I was determined to try because I knew this could be an amazing way to bond with my daughter.
Arriving at Deepspot was thrilling. As we entered, we saw the long glass tube in the center of the 45-meter diving pool. “It’s like when sharks swim around you!” my daughter exclaimed. The friendly receptionist laughed and reassured her, “Don’t worry, there aren’t any sharks in that tank.”

After getting changed, we entered the shallow pool area and met Karolina, who began our safety instructions. It took me a few basic (okay, maybe “dumb”) questions to fully understand her explanation about how our lungs act like balloons to help us rise and fall in the water. My daughter hid her face behind her hands, embarrassed, but I just laughed it off, saying, “There’s no such thing as a stupid question!”—a classic dad-ism. We learned that Karolina’s father is also a diving instructor at Deepspot. That little detail gave me confidence, as though the universe was affirming my decision.

Then we met our instructor, Franklin, originally from the Dominican Republic. He had moved to Warsaw for love—his Polish wife. It felt like yet another cosmic sign since I, too, had moved to Poland for love. Franklin geared us up and showed us how to prevent our masks from fogging up using a spray of baby shampoo, which delighted my daughter because the smell reminded her of her childhood. Once we were in the water, we practiced a seemingly impossible skill: rising and sinking by controlling our breath, without using the inflatable diving vest. At first, it felt incomprehensible, but after a few back-and-forth laps in the shallow end, it clicked, sparking a sense of wonder. Meanwhile, my daughter was already swimming ahead with Franklin like Nemo and Dory.

When we surfaced, Franklin taught us underwater hand signals, including the critical one for “not okay/problem.” Then we approached the ledge of the shallows and peered down into the deep end. It was like standing in the lobby of a skyscraper in New York, overwhelmed by wonder. Watching other divers swim by felt surreal, as though we were in outer space, weightless.
On my first descent into the deeper water, I felt slight discomfort in my ears as the pressure increased. Franklin was quick to check on me, which reassured me I was safe. His calm and attentive guidance helped me feel at ease, and I dared to go deeper.

The soundless world underwater, coupled with the sensation of breathing while floating in space, was utterly enlightening. My daughter was completely hooked, posing for photos and moving as though she’d been diving her whole life. I felt so proud—of her for taking to it so naturally, and of myself for taking the leap of faith to try something new.

The following day, we watched the videos we’d received of our experience. My daughter said in awe, “I can’t believe we did it!” I replied, “Yeah—and we’re going back to get our certification.” At that moment, it was clear: this was the best idea I’d had in a long time.

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