Sorry Mom, I Jumped Off the Boat (And I’d Do it Again): On Wonder, Spirituality, and Chasing Discomfort in the Galapagos
Penn Global Seminar: Darwin’s Laboratory: History, Philosophy, Evolution and Social Ecology in the Galápagos Archipelago
Allison, one of the Fall 2025 Penn Global Seminar Correspondents, shares her experience abroad during the Winter Break. Follow along with the group of correspondents on our blog and look out for their images on the @pennabroad Instagram feed.
Photo by Carlos, our amazing panga driver.
To preface: jumping off the boat was done with the captain’s permission, under safe and supervised conditions!
How does someone go from being dead scared of snorkeling in the ocean to, less than a week later, jumping off the top deck of a three-tier boat not once, but twice?
For starters, Professor Weisberg was right. Humans are naturally buoyant in the ocean. After jumping into the water for the very first snorkel, I was pleasantly surprised when I didn’t immediately plummet to the ocean floor.
What I saw beneath the surface, to this day, I struggle to fully explain. Silver schools of fish darted by en masse. Dozens of sea turtles floated less than a foot away. Sea lions playfully flipped circles around us. By the second snorkel, it no longer felt like the water was actively rejecting me. Snorkeling was a mostly silent, meditative affair. A special kernel of experience shared between just you and the ocean
Beyond overcoming my fear of the water, I jumped off the boat because I knew I could count on the people who were waiting for me in the water underneath.
The week we spent together was marked with blissful routine. During the post-lunch breaks, my classmates and I scattered across the middle deck. Lily and Shruti flipped through the Galapagos guidebooks we found on the lower deck. Jordan explained frigatebird facts to Harish. Noah took his first-ever nap (gasp)! The time we spent together felt inexplicably endearing, as if I’ve known these people for my whole life. It was like falling asleep in the backseat of your parent’s car after a long roadtrip, only to blearily open your eyes to the rumble of the garage door opening. Welcome home. We joke about how we’ve formed a 14-person co-dependent commune, but it’s not too far from the truth.
I can’t in good conscience write about the Galapagos without describing our naturalist guide, Ernesto Vaca. For lack of better words, he’s the Barbie of the Galapagos – a paramedic, firefighter, environmental lawyer, biologist, and naturalist, all in one. He’s also currently pursuing a degree in theology. Above all, this man is a storyteller. I’ve never met someone so charismatic, purposeful, and deeply connected to the land.
Under Ernesto’s guidance, we ate our way through the Galapagos: trying the translucent berries of the muyuyo plant, licking dew off of the leaves of the black mangrove, and tasting crystals of sea salt tucked in the crevices of the beach’s lava rocks.
The sad reality is that most locals on the Galapagos don’t care about science or conservation. Ernesto tells us that the average tourist to the Galapagos knows more about the islands than its own residents. Several residents don’t know how to swim and have never entered the ocean. If you can’t afford the guided cruises or tours, there are few opportunities for you to see the natural wonders that bring the Galapagos its international acclaim.
Ernesto tells the story of bringing a woman to the beach to snorkel for the first time in her 40 years of living in the Galapagos. It took her almost an hour to garner the courage to enter the water. After finally submerging her face, she couldn’t help but scream. Through her tears, she explained that she thought that these views were only possible on television.
What the Galapagos needs, Ernesto believes, is to heal the spirituality of its people. “We must sensitize the human being in terms of nature and its meaning,” he explains. “Sensitize them to the ‘why’ of the sea lion and the iguana.”
Ernesto also had a personal request: inviting interested Penn students to come teach English to his Oceanic Scouts (housing provided). Since 1996, he’s trained over 600 Scouts, forming a highly skilled, interconnected group of naturalists. Learning English is a significant area of opportunity, empowering the Scouts to communicate with tour groups more effectively, pursue higher education, and further the group’s dual mission of expanding spirituality and conservation in the Galapagos. Interested students should contact Professor Weisberg.
Halfway through the trip, we all sat down and reflected on what we had seen thus far. Linda talked about how the days blended together, a sorely-needed departure from the rigidity of university life. Eric talked about perilous but stable equilibriums. Mimi talked about time scales and eons of change. Molly talked about joy.
My thoughts spanned three points:
1: Fear, or the lack thereof. The wildlife on this island coexist with us. They don’t run away when they see us, when perhaps they should. A different way of living is possible, in which we lead with love rather than fear.
2: Trust. We trusted Ernesto to provide us direction – not only through the islands’ winding paths, but direction with the way that we absorbed the nature around us. We trusted each other – not only in jumping off the boat, but also in sharing the fullest versions of ourselves, unguarded truths whispered into the tranquility of the ocean night.
3: Why us, why now, so what, and what next? I still don’t know the answer to these questions. How do I make this experience matter beyond the trip itself?
If there’s anything I’ve learned from staring into the ocean for 10 days straight, it’s that sometimes, the ocean is just the ocean. Not everything needs to have a grand purpose or meaning. So, let me conclude with this: finding peace, in this modern day and age, is infinitely precious. You don’t need to go to the Galapagos to carry on the most important lesson: its spirit.
I hope I was able to translate that spirit, even if in the smallest of ways, through this piece.
According to Ernesto, the best thing you can do is have the right attitude. To be a responsible neighbor and consumer. Responsibility, in this context, acknowledges the nuance of environmental stewardship. For example, Ernesto loves AC. “I know it pollutes,” Ernesto says. “But it happens to be that when my house and environment is refreshed, I can work better.”
Ernesto is also firm when he tells us that simply donating money is not “saving the Galapagos”. Assuming responsibility over your actions is. Being sensitized to your surroundings is.
It’s so frustratingly vague, right?
At the end of the day, this is a story about jumping off the top deck of a boat in the Galapagos with all your friends. There’s still a part of me that doesn’t believe I did it – hence the second jump, to be sure I didn’t hallucinate the first time. Embracing the discomfort always ends in a good story, I’ve learned.
Now that I’m back in Philadelphia, I’ve replaced daily snorkels in the Pacific with cold treks down Locust. The Galapagos feels like a faraway dream. How do I make this matter?
For now, I find comfort in reminding myself that somewhere out there in the Pacific, Ernesto is probably chilling on a boat and inspiring the next generation. With people like him out in the world, we’ll be alright, I think.
To Ernesto, Michael, Gabby, Eric, Harish, Izzy, Jordan, Lily, Linda, Mimi, Molly, Neel, Noah, Pierce, Shruti, and Veronica – thank you for a profoundly special 10 days.