My OCD and I Swam in the Mediterranean

September 22, 2016

Having OCD is all about never letting your guard down. As annoying as that is, it’s really useful in Spain where apparently everyone wants to rob you. Personally, I was almost robbed twice. In the span of fifteen minutes.

As I explained in this post, I traveled to Spain this summer to work a freelance journalism job with the Olympic Channel. While I spent the majority of my time there writing captions for videos and designing the website, I did have a few weekends to explore the country.

Hillary, my friend from school, and/or Katerina, a new friend I met in Spain, accompanied me on most of these excursions. What I also brought with me was my obsessive compulsive disorder. OCD is characterized by almost uncontrollable urges to do things. For me, it’s repeatedly checking outlets, doors, lights, ovens, and belongings. Though it’s not debilitating, it does disrupt my life at times. I could, and probably will, write an entire post about what it’s like to have OCD and travel overseas, but here I want to cover a lighter (and more specific) topic:

How to Swim in the Mediterranean Sea with OCD.

Now, you might wonder why the Mediterranean is such a problem for someone like me, who grew up on the Jersey Shore and has been swimming in the Atlantic Ocean since I was two. Well, it’s all because of the no-good-dirty-rotten-five-finger-discount.

For this to make sense, you must know that Spain is known for its pick-pockets. Basically, every single person I asked for advice told me that no one would hurt me, but people would try to rob me. I am already unnaturally paranoid about losing my stuff or getting robbed, thanks to the OCD. Therefore, I acquired a leather purse with a zipper and wore it over my shoulders so that the purse part hung in front of me and hit me in the stomach every time I took a step. GOOD LUCK, PICKPOCKETS.

However, such a purse does no good for protecting belongings when one wants to go swimming. One weekend, I went to Valencia with Hillary and Katerina, and we traveled by bus. I had to bring money for food (meaning my credit card) as well as my phone with me because it’s just unwise and sort of impossible to travel without those things.

I found it panic-inducing and infuriating that the beach offered absolutely no method for storing and locking up one’s belongings. While Katerina went with a new friend to explore the city center, Hillary and I found our way to the water’s edge. I mean, one of us could swim while the other watched our belongings, but the water was probably 80 degrees, so who actually wants to get out of it?

My genius solution came from a blog post Hillary kindly sent me before I left. While she sat on the beach and put on sunscreen like a reasonable human being, I rested on my knees and surveyed the area like a paranoid meerkat. I observed each person around me to make sure he or she was either asleep or not looking at me. Then I took my money, credit cards and phone and put them into a ziplock bag. Then I put that ziplock bag into another ziplock bag. Finally, I took those and put them into a plastic bag. I dug a hole faster than a dog searching for a long-lost bone and deposited the plastic bag into it.

With one more furtive glance left and right in search of any individual who dare observe my treasure-hiding, I covered the bag with sand in its hiding place. And then—AND THEN—I spread my towel out over it and set my beach bag on top. The idea is that a potential thief would casually walk by and take the bag. Then he or she would only get the last bite of my sandwich, a slightly soggy T-shirt and cheap sunscreen because my valuables hid beneath the sand. Ha. Ha. HAHA!

As it turned out, no one took my colorful beach bag or dug up my treasures. I spent the day playing volleyball with total strangers, showing some guys how to do a handstand on the beach, and charging through the water like a hyper 3-year-old. It was a great day. But seriously. Valencia needs to get some lockers on the beach. For mental health.