Showing posts with label comments. Show all posts
Showing posts with label comments. Show all posts

Monday, March 24, 2008

The War on Worms

Thank you all for the comments, emails and general concern about my worm. To answer your various questions:

  • I did take a picture - but keep forgetting to upload it. I will do so soon.

  • Yes, I have been to the doctor - I will start the medication tonight. First I have to sedate the worm and then tomorrow, I will poison it. I need to sedate it first so it doesn't get too erratic when it's poisoned. Apparently it can take up to a week to die.

  • It hasn't moved much in the last day or so.

  • The doctor thinks I probably got it from walking through dirty water.

  • No, I haven't given him a name. However, after discussion last night a number of my friends have decided to call it William.



LATER! Here he is!

Thursday, January 31, 2008

Forcing an Issue



I’ve had some rotten customers this week. These people are typical of their nation – I know it is often perceived as racist to make observations based on peoples’ cultural identity these days... but these guys are typical... no! I better not.

There are six of them, I think I can say (without giving too much away) that the three men are all in their fifties and strut up and down the beach in tight Speedos, worn low at the front to accommodate their generous beer bellies and pulled up to the waist at the back to compensate. Their wives are all gorgeous, in their twenties and promenade in front of the sun-beds wearing g-strings and dripping with jewellery.

They all have brand new, top-quality diving equipment, which they transport in battered old suitcases – because (so they tell me) if they used proper dive bags, the baggage handlers at Moscow airport would steal the lot... ach! Darn it, now I’ve told you! Yes indeed, they are Russians. Very, very, very wealthy Russians and I have to say, they’re charming. Charming, polite and gracious, although their complements can be unusual. In the mornings, before they dive, my colleague and I set out all their dive gear with a bag in front, ready for them to pack.
“Thank-you Zhane,” says Dimitri “everything is in order,” nodding his well-groomed, solemn face and scratching his all-too-Slavic little pointy beard. Natasha smiles approvingly,
“yes,” she says “this is very neat.”

Above water they charming, ordered and courteous. They are always late, but I have discovered that rich people are all always late. On the whole, on the surface, they’re great. Underwater, they turn into demons.

The reef is a fragile environment: soft corals are in fact very soft; hard corals are really not that hard; many marine animals are coated in a transparent slime which protects them from infection. Touching is bad; touching the reef will damage it, leave it vulnerable and in some cases kill it. These guys touch everything! They touch and grab and poke and shake and pick up and steal! They even steal from the ocean! I want to kill them. They are all experienced divers and their buoyancy is good – but still they are kicking the reef below and behind them every time they stop to look at anything. They have no concern for the reef, but perhaps more strangely, they also have no concern for each other. Solo diving is not safe, we always dive in buddy-teams for safety and I always ask people to stay within sight of me (not least because I am leading the way!). These six swim off on their own, speed ahead or lag behind without considering the rest of the group or even their own buddy.

I have tried to talk to them about all of this; they smile and politely agree that they will not do any of these things. When they get into the water, once again, it’s a nightmare. When I spoke to them (again) about not damaging the reef, I was told not to worry because Valery is a Biologist and knows what he can touch safely. On the next dive I watched Valery swim into an overhang without first considering how he was going to get out. Stupid. On the way out he got stuck. There was a rather beautiful anemone beneath him and the overhang above was coated with hard coral. He should have carefully reversed and tried to slowly manoeuvre back the way he came – that was what I was frantically signalling him to do. Instead he gave me a cheerful wave and forced his way out, crushing the anemone and scraping his tank valve through the hard corals. I suspect that I will find both are dead next time I visit. Some biologist.

I just don’t understand it! That same dive they all came up saying how impressed they were with the exceptional corals – I wanted to scream,
“Do you have any comprehension of the damage you have done?”

Do they really simply not care? How can they not understand? It’s like all the Filipinos who bring their families to White Beach on a Sunday for a picnic – presumably because it’s so beautiful – and then leave all their cans, crisp packets, broken glass and the rest lying on the beach. I really don’t understand, but I find it so incredibly depressing. I actually lifted Olyssa up off the reef today, to stop her from kicking anything else. She was very offended – but what can I do? I can’t just watch. Except in the end, there’s not much else I can do. You can’t force people to care or to take care, can you?

Sunday, September 16, 2007

(sigh)

Just got all excited: someone left a comment on my blog! "What could it be?" I mused. The name was unfamilier - so it's not just one of my friends leaving a 'sympathy comment' (not that I get many of those). It's a stranger! Someone, that I don't know, has checked-out my blog (wow) and it has inspired them to think something! Something that they wish to communicate. Fantastic! I didn't look at it straight away - I had some emails to reply to, so I decided to do that first and save the mysterious comment for later.

Just checked it out. It was a link to an adult videos website. Life is full of cruel disappointments. Blogging is standing on a big stage in a dark auditorium - talking blithely to the darkness.

Thursday, March 08, 2007

Blogging Blues

I have just spent five days in the jungle. I could tell a tale of a steep, jungle-clad valley with a deep aqua-lime river winding through it. I could spin a yarn of thousands of indignant bats and a 2 metre emerald lizard. I could sketch a scene from days past of villagers digging themselves into caves, squeezed between hanging tree-roots and glittering stalagmites, to hide from invading soldiers... but I'm not going to... because I have the Blogging Blues.

What do I have to do to please you people?! Huh?! [assuming 'you people' are not actually a figment of my imagination]. What must I do to get a reaction? I thought Lablita would tug at your heart strings and squeeze a response out of you... but it seems little Labli left you cold. I thought the episode in Ging Ging Cafe would raise a few questions about the nature of tourism and cultures colliding... but apparently you didn't even raise an eyebrow. I had hoped that my Ferry troubles or my bizarre reception in Sibuyan might amuse you! But I guess not. Are you really so world-weary? Have you really heard it all before? [sigh]

After consideration, there are two possible reasons for this total wall of cyber-silence:

1. I have no readers. You are in fact my latest imaginary friends. Sadly imaginary friends can't make comments, encourage or criticise. As friends go, they're rubbish.

2. I have readers, but I have [as yet] completely failed to engage, interest or entertain you.

So what do I do? Are my blogs too long? Too short? To much about myself? Too much about other people? To much about people all together and not enough action? Does my blog need a flamboyantly evil villain and a couple of really good tricycle chases? Or some naked celebrities perhaps? Am I too random? Too glib? [grin] Not glib enough? [cheeky grin]

In case anyone was wondering, I am not in the luxurious position of needing a comments policy. So whatever you write will go up! Perhaps you are unsure of what a constitutes a comment? This online dictionary defines it as:

"a remark, observation, or criticism; gossip; talk; a criticism or interpretation, often by implication or suggestion; a note in explanation, expansion, or criticism of a passage in a book, article, or the like; explanatory or critical matter added to a text"

Which is more or less the same as my definition of a comment:

"anything, ANYTHING, that lets me know you're out there and I'm not just writing this for my Dad!"

Don't get me wrong! My Dad is a small, but worthy, audience and I shall continue to write this solely for him [and in the hope that I may pick-up a few stragglers on the way].

But for now, I'm going to the beach, to reflect upon the last few crazy days... that lizard! Crikey! It would've made a great blog. You [if you exist] missed out.



I'm not even gonna tell you what this is. But it looks to me like it might have a plan for world domination...