The Day I Jumped Out Of A Plane - Parachuting In Costa Brava

Hitting the road for Traveldudes - Costa Brava Blogtrip:

The Day I Jumped Out Of A Plane - Parachuting In Costa Brava

"I'm not nervous. Yes, everything is good." Santo gives me this "Oh my god this girl gonna chicken out"-look.

I won't. I waited for it.

But maybe all tension in Empuriabrava was taken by the others. I won't name names but some of my fellow travel blogger buddies looked a little bit pale in the face.

What if I'm gonna die? Should I call my parents before I jump? What will the others say when I chicken out?

Their thoughts were written large in their faces. And mine? What did I think? Actually kind of nothing. I was thinking about how much I hate waiting. And I had to wait. (Note to self: never, NEVER again claim to be the first to do something) Murphey's law. Naturally I was last. All the others got their adrenalin kick before me.

I waited to get nervous, that my stomach would validate its ticket for the rollercoaster world of being scared. That I, me and myself, would start a big discussion about whether I really should do that. But nothing happened.


One after the other came back to the ground. Big smiles on their faces. Woohoo. What a fun thing to do. Arrgh.

I also wanna jump. NOW.

The second group was getting ready. Where's my instructor? No instructor in sight. At least not one who wanted to jump with me. "You're in the third group." Arrgh. Another 30 minutes to wait... but the woman in this rollercoasterfeelingannouncementbox also says: "You're gonna jump with a good looking Italian guy." Yay.

Imagine now: slow motion, Top Gun or Armageddon soundtrack. And Santo. My instructor. Yes, he's handsome but outranking this, he looks like he knows what to do. GREAT. Can I please jump now? Hurry up Santo, hurry up.

A few minutes later we're up in the air. Getting higher and higher. No nervousness in sight. Is this a dream? Is this real life? Yes, it is. Both.

And then I leave my body. No control. Just like a robot I do what Santo and the photographer tell me to do. Get on your knees. Take your head back. Smile. SMILE. S M I L E. And then before I can think about it we're out. In the air.

The ground is 4000 meters away. Am I nervous? Not at all. I'm too busy screaming and breathing and smiling for the camera to really realize that I'm FALLING. Free falling. But I am. And it feels like in the dreams where you're falling and falling and falling and your only thought is:

"F**k - will I survive?"

And then I wake up. No, wrong, I've never slept. Santo just opened the parachute and now we're flying.

I see water and trees and houses and the sun. "Are you alright?" Yes, Santo, yes. "Do you like it?" Yes. I do. Am I really flying? Yes, I am. And it feels good. And then I can see the ground and people waving at me. I wave back and then it's time for the landing. And bump. Totally inelegantly down on the ground. And I'm laughing. And laughing. I did it. I dived into the sky.

Days later I still can't believe it. Did I really jump out of a plane? Without being nervous? Can't be. Must have been a dream. One of this surreal dream I had the last week. In one dream I was chatting with Ferran Adrià, in another I walked on the Milky Way.

And there's one thing I learned: I don't need to jump out of a plane to feel like in heaven. Sometimes heaven can be easily found. On Earth. In Costa Brava.




Thanks to the Costa Brava Tourist Board for inviting Traveldudes!
As always... All views are our own!

Written and contributed for Traveldudes by JustTravelous