If everyone jumped off a bridge, would you?

I would, apparently.

There's this bridge on a pier at La Caleta, the beach in the old part of Cádiz, and people seem to enjoy jumping off of it into the water. Seeing as it's my last day in Cádiz, and I hadn't jumped off the bridge yet, I figured it was now or never.

I'm normally a wimp about both heights and cold water, but it was brutally hot today and looking down at the water from the bridge, I decided nothing had ever looked more refreshing. Or more potentially dangerous.

There were large shadows under the water that looked suspiciously like rocks and my better judgment was begging me to reconsider. But there was a small crowd of young people jumping off the bridge today and no one had died yet.

So I went ahead...

...and jumped. I don't remember much about the first jump. I just remember suddenly being in cold, cold water. Very cold water. But within seconds, it felt as refreshing as I had hoped it would.

I wanted to jump again, though, and really focus on the sensation of falling. Also, this time around I wanted to plug my nose, because my nasal passages had just been flooded with salt water. Not exactly pleasant. So anyway, I jumped again.

If you ever jump off a bridge, don't focus on the sensation of falling. It's terrifying. My second jump went something like this:

Nose? Plugged. Ready? No. Jump anyway. Okay, focus on the falling. HolycrapI'mfalling. Here comes the water. Is this gonna hurt? Did it hurt last time? This is going to hurt, isn't it? SPLASH. Water up my nose.

It's been a surreal semester. I mean that, too. Even today, my last day in Cádiz, I can't quite wrap my head around the fact that I'm in Spain. In Europe. I don't think it'll hit me until later how much I miss this city and all of the people I've met here. For what it's worth, to everyone here and at home, who read or didn't read this blog: Thanks.

View of La Caleta from the pier.