There was a beautiful blue house sitting atop the treacherous cliffs of Playa Forti trying its hardest to blend into its oceanic backdrop. Exploring after my first dives of the week, Sport Diver editor Ty Sawyer, photojournalist Amos Nachoum and I passed by Groot Knip and saw local boys diving from the cliffs. We stopped just in time to catch one boy splash into the rocky blue abyss below. The last boy remaining looked at my envious expression as I asked if he was going to follow his friend and jump. The grin on his face grew. He replied, "No! I'm not crrrrazy!" Crazy? Crazy not to!

I'd come to Curaçao on a Sport Diver photojournalism expedition, hoping to put my childhood aspiration to become a photojournalist to the test. Even on the first day of this weeklong trip, I was already intoxicated with the fragrances of the island and its pull.

I had arrived the previous morning at Hato International Airport and was greeted by a blast of the hot air I would grow accustomed to in the week ahead. Two other expedition participants, Tom (an avid photographer from Ohio) and Kelly (a lovely woman I don't mind sharing my name with, even if hers is spelled incorrectly), approached me while I anxiously awaited my luggage. A representative from Sunset Waters Beach Resort, our luxurious accommodation for first part of our trip, found us, and we were soon off on our bumpy and talkative ride through the West End.

This West End was shockingly different from anything, and everything I would expect if taking a ride through the West End of my local city, New York. I anticipated a bustling community of rambunctious locals and an overload of skyscrapers and hotels. Instead, there were more trees than buildings and more dirt roads than streetlights. The driver of our van had the a/c on full blast so as to hide us from the explosive heat waiting outside the van door.

Once we reached the resort, Jim, the property manager, greeted my exhausted and travel-worn face with a plate of fresh fruit. This was soon followed by dinner - a buffet of seafood, meat and rice - and entertainment. ChuChu, a resort employee, plunged pieces of charcoal on chains and a wooden stick into gasoline. While showing off his fire-swinging and fire-blowing talents, the famous never-ending breezes of Curaçao picked up, quickly ending his sizzling exhibition.

The next morning, the dive crew - Lynn, Carlos and Mike - planned Boca Santa Cruz as our first stop. Renae, an expedition participant from California, unloaded her camera and stared at it with a look of confusion. Andre and David, a father-son team, said that once they were settled they and Amos Nachoum, a top photojournalist, would help her out with the contraption. Diane and Gary, a couple of avid divers, jumped into the water first. I was just about to indulge myself in the liquid heaven when another member of our group, Cary, warned me that I had forgotten my mask - amateur mistake number one. Cary and his wife, Mary, helped me re-gear and soon all of us were underwater.

This site served as a wake-up call to see what this island's reefs are all about. The reef wall was populated by orange elephant ear, brain coral and stony coral formations. An endless amount of life was all around my fins and camera lens. I found myself caught up in the soothing warm waters and in the visibility that, to a Jersey diver like me, was more than foreign.

On our second dive, we delved into Mushroom Forest, where star coral structures vividly resemble giant piles of mushrooms. We were wisely advised to use our compasses in order to keep our bearings amongst these giant underwater fungi.

During our surface interval, Ty and Amos took us over to a hidden cave so we could join in the cliff-jumping tradition we'd already witnessed. I felt like a local as I flew through the air toward the blue abyss below.

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SOME SECRETS OF THE ISLAND REVEALED While exploring topside, we'd drive along only to stop whenever one of us screamed the magic words: "STOP! PHOTOGRAPH!"

Westpunt, a stunning sight much like Groot Knip with its shimmering water, had a lonely dock emerging into the ocean. I couldn't blame all of the missing fishermen for staying out at sea amidst the perfect conditions Curaçao virtually guarantees.

Upon our return to Sunset Waters, the Day Dreamer was ready to take us out on a night dive. My dreams about the endless love the Caribbean Sea reveals to night divers were about to come true. The treasures that suddenly appeared before my flashlight beam proved me right. I immersed myself into the underwater world and saw parrotfish, sea dragons and angelfish. At first they seemed startled at my light, but before long, they enjoyed my attention. The parrotfish, which I named Patty, danced in my spotlight, and his colored scales brightened up the sea's darkness. Countless fire worms began appearing everywhere, and their cackling eerily vibrated throughout the water, bouncing off the seawall. The wall at Lost Anchor gave sight to infinite gorgonians and elephant ear coral. This dream - I mean, dive - ended much too abruptly for my taste.

I hopped out of bed before Wednesday's sunrise and gathered my gear before I staked out the infamous "Trupial Tree" that grew in front of my building. The gold-and-black birds decided that today was their day off, and only about 10 made the tree their morning hangout. I finally gave them their privacy and headed down to the Day Dreamer.

We were going out to dive College Reef, a wall dive that instantly placed me in that morning underwater heaven that every diver should experience, when the waters haven't picked up much strength, the trade winds are still weak and everyone is still waking up. The sun was still low by the time we reached the site, making for some beautiful shots as the coral waved at us in the soft current and the entire reef began to wake up with its divers.

As the sun lined up above our heads, we made our way to Hell's Corner. Many people have said that Hell's Corner is the best part of hell they could ever imagine; that this tiny piece of hell is actually heaven in disguise because of all of the striking brain corals, morays and fish that surround you. The current of this endless deep blue water is typically stronger due to its northwestern location, and most fish are sparse. The fish must have enjoyed our scent that day, however, because they were everywhere. I understood the conspiracy theory behind the site's name as soon as my eyes were able to take in part of what this site had to offer. The visibility seemed endless as I tried to spot every hidden treasure Hell had placed in hiding above, below and beside my diving buddies and me.

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THE ISLAND TESTS ITS LIMITS WITH ME Kelly and I, along with a diver we'd met at our resort, made plans to get a shore dive in at House Reef because of all the great things everyone had been telling us. We decided to head west and see if we could find the Airplane Wreck. I estimate that we were under for not even 20 minutes when suddenly it felt as though I had one of Chu Chu's charcoal chains being tied to my forearm and the flames were burning. I'm proud to say that Kelly and Jon agreed they'd never heard anyone scream as loud underwater, while keeping a regulator in her mouth, and not surfacing immediately afterwards. I focused as I walked to the dive shop, where Mike poured some meat tenderizer onto what we guessed was a jellyfish sting. Now I know two things: One, jellyfish really do sting; and two, I can always resort to this war story if another diver tries to boast his wives' tale. (All right, I might make the sting a lot worse and the jellyfish a hell of a lot more threatening but it's still my story.)

The next morning's sunrise was red-hot. The ocean swells felt colossal as I watched the horizon disappear and reappear once every few seconds on our way to Mako's Mountain. The story told is that every diver who came here consistently spotted a certain mako shark. He was eventually named and might be considered an island pet. To put this site into perspective, I wrote paragraphs about each dive site in my logbook throughout the trip. For this one, I could only manage one word: "Beautiful!" The coral sparkled with reds, purples and sometimes greens. The fish seemed a bit more skittish than usual, but I attribute that to the famous mako shark lurking in the shadows, avoiding me.

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CHANGE OF SCENE We headed over to Habitat Resort on the north side of the island. Our third dive of the day was Playa Largu (Long Beach). The first warning they gave us was to watch for fire coral. They had understated the amount of fire coral that lay beneath the surface waiting to brush arms and legs that nakedly flailed out. Luckily, I, unlike most, escaped unsinged.

Cas Abou (Lower House) was our last dive for the day. The divemaster promised a seahorse and a frogfish. I saw neither, which is fine, because the surrounding critters and coral seemed to be growing in number, expanding in size and intensifying in color with each breath. I saw more blackbar soldierfish at this sight than at every other site combined. They seemed to come out of the coral's holes and cracks each time I blinked. The smooth brain coral was just as populated on this dive and was an overwhelming sight. Sea rods sprouted up out of every crevice, just waiting to be noticed.

We docked and rendezvoused at Ocean's Restaurant & Bar for a much-needed meal. Anne-Marie, the one everyone knows at Habitat, joined us for a few minutes during our meal. The food is local and had the island flavoring I think everyone had been craving to enjoy, myself included. I ordered up a plate of mixed fresh seafood but received much more. The shrimp was flawlessly seasoned, and the flavoring of the plate's fish - sweet yet tangy - spoiled me with its perfection.

With full hearts and overstuffed bellies, we traveled over the Queen Emma Pontoon Bridge and through Willemstad, ending up at Breezes Resort. I've never been in such a state of shock as when I saw all that Willemstad represented. I felt as though I had traveled back home and was driving around New York City or Philly as the well-developed horizon suddenly became commercially lit. The lights of the city lit up my face as we drove closer to the excitement and energy of the East Side. I saw where all of the locals who were missing from the island's West Side had come to hang out. Everything was alive and animated, unlike the West End, where time slowed down and the days lasted forever.

At Breezes Resort, another plate of fresh fruit, a bottle of champagne and lavishly arranged flowers welcomed me to my last dimension of this island's world. Everyone met down by the gigantic pool for a presentation of Amos Nachoum's photographs by the proud artist himself. I saw so much talent and flair on the computer screen in front of me that I could not wait to see the next.

Friday started with a bang - no pun intended - toward the Superior Producer, the wreck we were diving. This cargo ship sank just off the coast's harbor while transporting Christmas orders to Venezuela a mere 35 miles due south. The Curaçaoan people never had such a magnificent holiday season as the one of 1977 thanks to the foolish crew who overstocked the ship. This story kept running through my mind as I attempted - and failed - to take photographs of the ship's hull. I had forgotten to load my camera and, regrettably, learned the amateur lesson of always double-checking gear.

Our divemaster, Remmy, made our land interval anything but typical as the boat dropped us off at Fort Beekenburg where the main tower and some walls still stand. We weaved our way up the crumbling stairs and around the cacti lying in wait for unsuspecting ankles. Once we were at the top, the astounding view of the Caracasbaai to the right and the Spanish Waters to the left revealed itself. Fort Beekenburg is possibly one of the best-preserved forts in the entire Caribbean, even though it was attacked by countless pirate ships and both French and English fleets after it was built in 1703.

After we had finished exploring a dangerous yet guarded place, we dived the wreck of the tugboat at Saba. I have heard many divers try to describe this wreck, and each one resorts to the same word: "cute." The toy-like tugboat is lost amongst a forest of soft corals and some yellowtail snappers. This shallow dive of 30 feet gave relief to our bodies and let us lazily mill around its endless gorgonians.

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JUST THINK: BE NATIVE It was Friday night and we were going out on the town, while trying to blend in as much as possible. Ty got lost at one point, but we eventually found the right way, arriving at Equus for an entirely fresh acquaintance with this island's unique lifestyle. The chef, Cookie, only comes in and works Friday nights - so this meal was scheduled perfectly. As we relaxed, Equus served up savory skewers fresh off the grill. They hung on separate screws above our table with the spicy beef or sizzling chicken juices dripping down into our baskets of freshly toasted bread. Yet again, our hearts and stomachs were stuffed to contentment.

We sadly departed and headed to TuTu Tango, a local's club. People were everywhere, having a few laughs, a couple of drinks and definitely a good time. There were some palm trees, a slide show of Curaçao scenes and soft island music. It was located in a typical alleyway (it reminded me of Philly streets) with unusually small clubs. Unfortunately, the dance scene and the DJ's music began to pick up just as we were leaving. Next time I hope to join these nocturnal partiers so I can experience the late-night side of Curaçao.

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WRECK DAY ISN'T WRECKED The next day promised to be a superb one, so our diving side of the trip would end on the best note possible. We met Christian, our second divemaster, and headed out to sea. We decided to dive the Superior Producer again. The swells were rough and tough on the boat; our equipment, locked down or not, went flying everywhere.

Once we were under, the current dragged everyone as far away from the wreck as it could manage before anyone realized. The more experienced divers immediately descended to the depths to fight the weaker current while snickering at those who didn't follow suit, stayed shallow and were swept away.

Masses of purple and white anemone along with tons of fish encircled the Superior Producer because of its near-shallow location and remarkable diving conditions. Everyone discussed some new creature they had finally seen. I told of my luck in seeing more angelfish at this wreck site than I have seen my entire life. They were roughly as large as my head and each was as beautiful as the next. Some were blue and white with yellow markings while others were smooth black and had slender blue dashes embellishing their fins.

During all of this excitement, we had arrived at our last dive site. Diver's Leap used to be called Dive or Sleep because of its location. Someone would have to stay on the surface and wait (or sleep) for the divers to resurface. I'm sure glad I decided against sleeping! I met the resident scaly-tail mantis shrimp. I had to find his hiding place and put forth the finest attribute a diver can have: patience. Large pillar corals were teeming with macro-worthy creatures. Within each crevice was another form of sea life - a yellowtail, a sprouting sponge, even a huge parrotfish. This dive site was definitely an extravagant way to end the week of diving.

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EXPLORING THE ISLAND, ABOVE SEA LEVEL THIS TIME Cary, Mary and I shared a compact rental car on Sunday to really explore the ins and outs of Curaçao. After breakfast, we returned to the other side of the island for Christoffel Park. This two-section national park was created in 1978. One side is on the coast while the other is the actual mountain. We had barely driven five yards before Cary slammed on the brakes as I screamed the magic words. We jumped out of the car just as a three-foot iguana scurried into the disguise of a mixture of luscious palm and divi-divi trees.

We explored the Indian paintings and caves and confirmed that bats inhabit island caves, too. The caves, though extremely dark and chilly, gave relief from the island heat. We looked through a rusted fence at some of the Caiquetio Indians', the island's first inhabitants, crumbling red masterpieces on the walls. We then continued onto Boca Grandi, the edge of the island, which offers beautiful sea-cliff views. The crashes of the salt water upon the rocky sea cliffs was so spectacular that after snapping back into reality, we cautiously inched our way down some white stone stairs that seemed to be melting in the humid air. The water felt heavenly cool compared to the arid and sticky air.

Immediately after entering the gates of the park's inland section, every clearing we passed had a perfect view of 1,239-foot Mount Christoffel, the island's highest point. Divi-divi trees, iguanas and Turk's carp cacti, locally known as kadushi, quickly became typical. As we made our way up the mountain, we quickly realized why Curaçao mainly rents compact cars. The speed limit signs read loud and clear at 40 kph, yet that number seemed ridiculous as the mountain began to elevate and the roads became narrower with sharp, rough turns.

Once we returned to the resort, I moseyed on over to the gift shop to buy some genuine blue Curaçao liquor that is produced at Landhuis Chobolobo. The liquor is distilled on the premises of the factory and sold in three colors: green, red and the most common, blue.

Later, we all headed out to explore the floating market in downtown Willemstad. It gave off the traditional feeling that the entire island shares. Everything is very relaxed and time seems to slow down as the merchant and fishing boats pull up to the dock and set up their stands right off their ports. The merchants are at dock from sunup until they run out of their products. Tourists and locals alike can find an assortment of food, from watermelon to pineapples to nuts, as well as some decorations and even tools from Venezuela. Some of the merchants sell spices that consume the sea air, such as ginger and pepper mixes. Across the canal is Fort Nassau, standing tall and sturdy-looking over the passing merchant boats and cruise ships.

As the leisurely appeal of night consumed us, we suddenly realized we had forgotten about dinner. As a result, we hastily made a reservation at Munahana, the Japanese restaurant on resort grounds. Sushi, noodles, meat and fish were all on the menu. Since they weren't serving Amos' favorite dessert - wasabi ice cream - we left and served up some vanilla cones for ourselves at our resort's buffet. The night seemed to fade away just as rapidly as the red-hot Curaçao sun set.

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CURAÇAO FADES FROM SIGHT, NOT FROM MIND Since my shuttle was leaving at 5 the next morning, I headed off to my silent room much earlier than I'd have liked. I was quiet and wistful during the 20-minute drive. The divi-divi trees were waving goodbye as the trade winds conspired to hold me in place. Curaçao was far too amazing to leave. How could home, school and work compare to this?

Curaçao is a place that many travelers overlook. The island people and the island itself portray such a unusual cultural existence that it nearly forces visitors to yearn for more. The natives beam when asked about their homely paradise and multidimensional island. Maybe it's because most location names have to be pronounced with a smile, or maybe it's because they understand the hidden treasures tourists yearningly search for. The underwater world promises to reveal more riches with each and every visit. I learned that instead of going to change others, I should let the island, the people and the worlds both above and below the surface influence me. I went expecting to discover a new world and decide if photojournalism was right for me. Curaçao had provided me with enough proof that I was made for this career and the career was made, and just waiting, for me as well.

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Being on Assignment Curaçao can easily be described using three words: "treasure-filled," "blissful" and "endless." (All right, so I'm cheating with the word count if compound words don't count, but you get the idea.) Even as I returned home, unpacked all of my clothing and gear and engrossed myself back into my hectic yet scheduled lifestyle, Curaçao was still racing through me. The people are used to the year-round invasion of divers, which makes the island feel open and inviting as long as you return those sentiments. The diving seems limitless because, depending on what time you dive each site, the scene will appear to have undergone a transformation. This assignment let me experience the island's ins and outs from my teenager, high-school student, New Jersey-resident point of view. I loved the endless diving, my jellyfish experience and especially having a new world revealed to me. I have the rest of my life to travel the remaining treasures of the world, but I will never forget Curaçao, as it has led me to my future.

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Must Do Hofi Pastor Explore where the Caiquetios Indians settled over 800 years ago and planted a kapok tree, the oldest tree on the island. Ring the bell on a stick and let the forest of Curaçao reveal her age-old secrets to you.

Must Dive 1. Mushroom Forest 2. Tugboat at Saba 3. Vertical Wall at Piedra Di Sombre 4. Hell's Corner 5. Curaçao's Underwater Park

Deco Stops You can start the trip off right with a walking tour of Willemstad by contacting the Board of Tourism. However, nearly any kind of excursion you want to experience is offered on this island. If you'd prefer a surface tour, contact Spanish Waters to Sail Curaçao, a great way to relax and explore the island. For daytime shopping, try the local market in Marshe Biu or the Floating Market in Willemstad. Before you try any bargaining, brush up on your Papiamentu and get there early, before all the good finds are found! Don't forget to time your day correctly in order to reflect inside the sand-floored Punda Synagogue. The Ostrich Farm is a quick way to have a good laugh after any diving mishaps. If you are in the mood for elegant dining, attend a dinner at Fort Nassau, best known as the home of the Fort Nassau Bar/Restaurant and Infinity Nightclub, which dishes out some Saturday-night-fever dancing before you depart paradise.

Destination Primer AVERAGE WATER TEMPERATURE: 80-86 F WHAT TO WEAR: Dive skin of shorty up to 3 mm year-round AVERAGE VISIBILITY: 60-150 feet PROFILE: Night, wreck, boat and shore diving; diving on the west/northward side not typically recommended; you can find nearly any creature you've been searching the deep blue for WHEN TO GO: Year-round

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Bio To write my own personal biography seems a more taunting task than any term paper or magazine assignment. I'm a high-school and college student in New Jersey. I love developing black and white photography, scuba diving, writing about everything and traveling around the world. What better career for me to pursue than photojournalism? Anytime people ask how I first got involved with scuba diving, my mom always jumps in to tell the story.

I was out on a catamaran in the Keys with my family during the my summer of sixth grade. The captain offered anyone a chance to try snuba diving. When I resurfaced about an hour later, I declared I only had two questions. "How can I do this for the rest of my life?" and "How do I get paid to do this?" My parents looked at me, laughed and assumed it was a silly phase I was going through. Well, I'm now in my senior year of high school and still haven't moved past that phase.

I earned my NAUI certification the next summer down in Florida and earned my PADI certification within the next two years. I just finished my PADI advanced and will hopefully be starting my drysuit and wreck certification courses soon. Cold-water diving is in my blood and I will never pick the Caribbean Sea over the northern Atlantic Ocean.

My next step is my bachelor's and then master's degrees and working for magazines like Sport Diver and National Geographic. My passion for the career of photojournalism has always existed, and I can't imagine living life any other way. Giving up on my dreams has never been an option. Having my work published before my 18th birthday is now a dream come true.