The Cheapest Luxury

There are very few bargains when you think about it. Meanwhile, the ocean sits there, looking pretty, and asking almost nothing. Generally people experience the sea from the beach. They wade in to cool off, jump through a few waves, maybe bodysurf for a while before drying off on a towel. I understand the appeal, of course. But they're leaving so much of the good stuff unexplored. So much that really feels like a deal.

I set out from Villa Miraé, a few minutes' walk from the water, for a swim along Cap d'Antibes, heading toward Billionaire's Bay. Boats — filled with people who had paid handsomely to admire the cliffs — bobbed nearby. I put on my goggles and swam there. Swimming equipment is wonderfully uncomplicated: just a swimsuit, goggles, an orange buoy trailing behind my waist. Just my own body powering me along the coastline.

But the best part wasn't reaching the cove, it's everything in between. I spied a school of silver fish suddenly changing direction, sharing a single thought. Copper-colored starfish clung stubbornly to the rocks. Sea urchins bristled from the crevices. Shafts of sunlight cast shifting mosaics across the sea floor. Every swim feels like I'm wandering through a painting where the objects are alive and constantly rearranging themselves.

Then there's what happens inside your head. Swimming occupies just enough of the brain to quiet senseless chatter while leaving enough room for productive thought. Problems that seemed hopelessly tangled before I entered the water often begin unraveling themselves. It isn't therapy, but I've climbed out of the Mediterranean with more clarity than I can describe.

The water does other things, too. It presses gently against every inch of your body. Maybe it is technically not a massage, but it feels a lot like lymphatic drainage. After an hour in the sea, my shoulders drop, my limbs feel stretched, and even the persistent swelling in my left arm seems grateful. Somewhere along the way, I've exercised for an hour without ever thinking about the gym. My Oura ring dutifully reports calories burned and heart-rate zones. And, not to mention what it feels like after toweling off; I feel cleaner than if I had spent 15 minutes soaping off in a scalding shower.

There are drawbacks, of course. Nothing is perfect. My hair is too bleached out and the goggle marks around my eyes are a dead giveaway. But after an open-water swim, I'm buoyed by the exercise, the meditation, and the perspective. Unless I've had the misfortune of meeting a jellyfish, I climb out of the sea happier — lighter — than when I went in. Every time, I feel as though I've received far more than I paid for. And the ocean never even noticed.