The ocean occupies three quarters of our planet’s surface. It keeps us hydrated and alive. I have been fascinated by the sea ever since I was a little boy. I have always wanted to explore its vastness.

    At my plea, my parents signed me up for a sailing training program. The training center was nestled on a hill overlooking a small cove in Dapeng Bay in eastern Shenzhen. Concrete levees semi-encircled the cove to form a lagoon. Colorful sailboats filed through an opening from the lagoon into the high sea.

    After three days of studying from a book, I was finally given the opportunity to sail in a real boat. It was really a beautiful little boat. It had a sharp bow streamlined backward to form a flat stern. A tall slim taper mast flew my red sail. I was ready to go.

    Late in the afternoon, my trainer, an Englishman in his 20s, gave me clearance to head to sea. I was now on my own.

    After a laborious effort, I sailed through the outlet into the open sea. My boat cut through mild waves, plowing her path into the open sea. She stirred up water and let it fall in a shower of pearls. Occasionally a small crab found its way into my boat, uninvited. I wished it were a lovely turtle.

    Wind began to build as I sailed further into the ocean. My sail fluttered wildly as the boat rocked and swirled in the high tide. I felt my heart swell and blood streamed fast in my veins when my boat yielded to the power of wind and my sail lost control of itself. In despair, I pulled my sail bar to adjust to the wind. It proved to be a misjudgment. My boat immediately tilted to one side and capsized before I could stop it.

    Safely floating in my life jacket, I became a satellite to my boat with a rope between us. I swam back to my boat and got back in.

    I needed the wind to power me forward but I hated it for playing tricks on me. Sailing was a game to conquer the wind. I repeated my voyage of half sailing and half capsizing. Finally when I was able to control my little boat, the signal was given to sail back to the harbor.

    You would not begin to understand my reluctance. The joy of maneuvering my little boat through peaks and valleys of waves and singing back to petrels hovering over my head was just too good to give up.

    However I must be back before dark. At the entrance to the lagoon, I turned to look at the ocean I left behind.

    The sun was setting with its glory sparkling on the water. There was a golden hue all over the place. The sun quickly dipped its round disk into the water. Looking at the ocean now, half of it was in flickering orange and the other half was lost in the blackness of approaching night.

    I was tired. What a voyage. My trainer congratulated me on my first seafaring. In his mellow English accent, he said: “Now you are a sailor.”

    “Thank you, sir,” I replied proudly.