Beauties & Beasties

This fella deserves a blog all of his own really. What IS IT?! (Answers on a postcard please). The photos don't do him justice - the wings were really quite beautiful - pale blue with gold ridges and silvery flecks, and so delicate. Then there's this monstrous head... with pinchers! Too weird. He stayed in the bathroom for a few days, but he's left now.

On the plus side, this rather lovely butterfly hung out and posed for photos yesterday. My housemate (human) has quite a way with butterflies, as you can see!




I don't know what the caterpillar, shown here, will turn in to! But isn't he cute! He was about 1 inch long and very fluffy.

Also, I think there was a Preying Mantis in the kitchen yesterday. Pictures to follow... my housemate (human) thinks this house may actually be an independent, fully functioning Ecosystem. One day people will come here to study. Just as Jerome anticipates medics completing their training solely on him, so Biologists and Zoologists will, one day, write Theses on my bathroom.

The house flooded yesterday - we've had almost no running water all week and then, overnight, a flood! I woke up to three indignant cats, perched in a row on the sofa, saying -
"Have you seen the state of this house? Are you responsible for this? No! Of course I don't know where the 'bloody mop' is! I'm a CAT!
The woman's a fool, I'm telling you. She can't even feed us without getting herself stung. You just can't get the staff these days..."

I swept the water out, but I suspect it will return. The immediate result is that the indoor frog population has dramatically increased.

You don't say!

So yeah, Tuesday was a rather scary evening! Thanks so much for all the kind comments – I am absolutely fine. That night, the doctor assured me there are no scorpions in Guatemala that can kill you (there are in Mexico - but apparently those ones aren't seen here), but, of course, it would have been good to know that before I was stung!

Later that evening it got even stranger - I could actually feel the poison spreading into the shoulder and then down into my chest and ribs. I worried about that - but it didn't affect my breathing. Also, about 4 hours after the sting my whole mouth went numb and my lips started to tingle (like pins & needles). I wondered whether my tongue would swell up and maybe that's why the Mayans (a few people) told me I should cut my tongue? But nothing else happened, just numbness. And no, I didn't cut my tongue with a machete! Although the night-watchman offered to do it for me - with a foot-long cutlass! Can you imagine!

I had a look on the internet to see if I could find out more about tongue-cutting for scorpion stings, but there is no mention of it. This morning I asked some Mayan friends here, and they tell me that cutting the tongue is very old-fashioned. No, you need to take a machete and bite the blade, three times, as hard as you can. Or, if you can catch the scorpion, you can cut the tail off (and throw that away carefully) and then take the liquid that comes out of the body and rub it onto the sting. Or, drink some hot, very strong, black coffee. I told them that I had drunk beer, they gave that some consideration and said yes, they thought beer was also good.

The next morning my arm just felt dead. Remember when you were a kid and someone (in my case, one of my dear brothers!) would give you a 'dead arm' by punching your shoulder? Well, it felt like that - stiff and weak. It eased off during the day - I think it was a full 24 hours before I was fine again.

That evening I was taking a coffee cup off the shelf and what should be behind it? Uh-oh! Another scorpion! I was glad that I didn't feel freaked out or scared – I’m already jumpy enough with the spiders. But I certainly have gained a healthy respect for the little bastards! I'm not walking around barefoot in the dark any more. And I'm being more careful about picking things up, etc. Not an experience I want to repeat.

Strangely, what really scared me at the time was that I would pass-out on the road. There are no street lights here (no real streets - my 'street' is a mud track) and it's pitch black at night. So if I’d passed out in the middle of the road, the chances of getting run over would have been very high. And that's what was really worrying me! Why I should be more scared of getting run-over than dying of scorpion poison, I don't know. Perhaps getting run over is an idea that my brain could more readily accept? Interesting.

Of course now people want to share their 'scorpion stories' with me: one poor chap got stung twice on the leg when he put his trousers on and found one inside. Another guy was walking barefoot through the grass and trod on one. A girl got stung on the hand, feeling around for the light switch in the dark... When I say I was stung whilst feeding the cats, a few people have said how awful that I was stung while doing a good deed! Aren't people funny!

Really? Are you sure?

They made me laugh out loud. It’s so strange how your evening can change course so rapidly, so unexpectedly. I went inside to get my keys and the cats looked at me with such yearning and angst that I thought, ‘ah, poor little things – I better feed them before I go’.

It was a new bag of cat food and as I took it out of the box, I worried about spiders. I lifted it very tentatively – ready to jump if something black and hairy appeared. When nothing did I felt quite relieved, and that was when I picked up the bag properly and the black scorpion hidden in the fold stung me on the soft skin between my thumb and first finger.

The first moment of pain was like a flash of light. I think I actually saw a flash of light. I did have the good sense to look to see what it was. Then I just swore loudly. It’s a shock! I mean obviously it’s a shock. But I mean really – I was very, very surprised by just how much it actually hurt.

I ran to the sink and plunged my hand into the cold water and then I just stood there. Swearing occasionally and then stopping to listen to the strange silence, only broken by the heartless cats trying to break in to the bag of cat food that I’d dropped on the floor.

Upon seeing the scorpion I had, of course, realised that I was about to experience an extortionate amount of pain. That’s all anyone ever says about scorpions – that you couldn’t imagine just how much it hurts. And you really can’t. It’s quite surreal. I stood there, observing myself and found I couldn’t fathom how anything could hurt quite this much. There are moments of clarity (and loud, fierce, bitter obscenities) then moments of, “really? Are you sure? This can't be real? Perhaps I’m going to wake up now?”

Then I started to think. How serious is a scorpion sting? Am I going to pass out soon? Because my house-mates (the human ones) won’t be home for hours. The clinic is 15 minutes away – do I need to leave now? What is going to happen when I take my hand out of this cold water? Can it, could it, actually hurt even worse that this? Is my arm going numb? Can I still move my hand? (I could – but didn’t do that again for a while – moving it hurts a lot more.)

I realised that I knew nothing about how bad or dangerous the scorpions are around here. I wondered how I could be so stupid to not ask something like that before now. I realised that I had to leave the house right now.

I didn't cry until I was outside and trying to get my shoes on - tieing my laces was agony. But I got it back together and soon I found my self stumbling up the road in the dark, holding my hand aloft like a torch. Self-control. It’s all about self-control. ‘Pain is just a feeling’ I kept repeating those words. I'm screaming inside. But I'm still walking, so I'm fine. Its just pain. Excruciating, unfathomable pain, washing over me like giant pacific waves. By the time I got to the first house I was drenched in cold sweat. I was quite surprised when I realised this, and quite alarmed when I realised I was light-headed.

I saw my neighbour in his yard. “Conoce escorpiones?” I asked called out (Do you know scorpions?)
“What?” he replied, walking over “what scorpion?”
“A small black scorpion” I replied, “It is dangerous? I need a doctor?”
He shone a light in my face “where? When?”
“About 10 minutes ago, here” I showed him my hand.
He said I needed a tourniquet; it took a while for me to understand that. He said I needed a machete. I mimed chopping my hand off and laughed. He smiled grimly and mimed cutting my tongue. I asked him “will I be ok?” I realised my tee shirt was soaked through with sweat. And it’s cold tonight. He said I should go to the clinic now. I left.

So I found myself stumbling down the road, light headed, sweating, my hair band tied tightly around my wrist, feeling bewildered and frankly amazed by how much pain I was in.

The doctor at the clinic said I would be fine. He offered anaesthetic. I asked “do I need it?” (I don’t use anaesthetics unless it’s an emergency – I had too many as a child). He said I didn’t actually need it. He told me the pain would wear off in a few hours. So I walked back to the bar.

Still drenched, still feeling quite surreal. They looked startled when I walked into the bar. “I’ve just been stung by a scorpion” I announced.
“Wow” said the bartender “you must be in so much pain”
“Yes” I said, choking back tears. I actually put my hand over my mouth and had to turn away for a second. I am proud to say I am not a woman who cries in public. “A beer please”

And so here I am, several beers and 2 hours later, sitting upstairs in the bar, letting the pain sweep through me like a warm summer breeze. It’s definitely not as bad as it was. Although I still can’t move my hand without great swathes of pain engulfing my head. It still feels quite surreal. I am typing this with one hand and trying to remember whether I locked the front door. Bizarrely, I am pretty sure I fed the cats before I left. Did I really do that? I think I did. The beer is certainly helping – as (strangely) is writing this.

Estoy la Maestra de Yoga!

I am the Yoga Teacher! It occurred to me that I haven’t really blogged about that yet - so I thought I should. Well, my new career got off to a slow start. I planned to do my first lesson at 5pm on the 1st of July. I had 5 people signed up, everything was looking good, I was ready, with my lesson plan neatly typed up, bag of mats underarm... then at 4.45pm the heavens opened and the rain came down in torrents. Ah yes, The Rainy Season – I had forgotten about that.

I re-scheduled to the following morning, but was disappointed when just 1 person came to my very first class. They warned me that it rains most days at 5pm, so I decided to stick with the 7am class. For 2 days, no one came. People were telling me that this is too much of a party place and no one would get up that early, and I was starting to feel pretty disheartened.

Then, it picked up! The next day there was 2.... then 6... then one bright sunny morning I had 8 people, which was very exciting! Initially, I was teaching on some flat grass by the river, but as the rains kicked in, that location became too muddy. So I moved the classes to the terrace at the house, which is lovely – but it’s 'off campus' – so now I have to persuade the lazy backpackers to walk down the road. As a result, recently the 7am class became an 8am class! But my schedule is still very fluid, as the weather and the customers change.

There have been some interesting students and moments. Last week there were two people who extended their stay just to do some more yoga with me, which was a wonderful compliment. This week, there was a small, public-school girl, doing her first ever yoga class, who spoke mostly in capitals, and thought yoga was “aMAZing” and “JUST INCREDible” and “fanTAStic and “NEVer EVEN KNEW yoga could be like THAT!”

Of course there was also the serious young man in lycra leggings who huffily told me he preferred “proper yoga”. I asked what he considered to be proper yoga?
“Like they do in India,” he replied. I said that I haven’t been lucky enough to study yoga in India yet, and asked if he would tell me more about it.
“You know” he said “no-one telling you what to do – everyone does their own thing, at their own speed”. It occurred to me that if he wanted to do his own thing at his own speed, he didn’t really need to come to a class! But I didn’t say anything.

In the first week, by the river, there was a young cow that was very curious. One day, she came to class! She stood on the back row and watched intently for about 45 minutes. Finally, during the Balance Sequence it all became too much for her – she rubbed her nose against one of the girls, knocking over a very nice Ardha Chandrasana (Half Moon Pose). So I shooed her away (the cow, not the girl) – but the rest of the back row complained – it seemed they all liked her being there! The following day she was more restrained and just watched from the side (the cow, not the girl).

Yoga has been met with complete amazement by the local Mayans. None of them have ever seen yoga before and they are quite enthralled. The first day 4 gardeners watched, literally with open mouths.
“But what is Yoga?” I am frequently asked! Funny, that was the first question in our Final Exam for the Teacher Training – but I didn’t actually think I would ever get asked that in ‘real life’.
“It means union” I reply, “It’s an exercise, and a philosophy, from India”
“Where?”
“India, it’s a country in Asia”
“Oh, that’s a long way from here”
“Well, yes.”
“But what is it for?”
“Strength, flexibility, balance and happiness” I say.
“Oh” they say. “Is it just for tourists?”

Several of the Mayans have said they’d like to come – but it hasn’t happened yet! I also had a request from one of the ladies in the kitchen to come and teach a class at the Community Centre for a group of ladies and children. She said there might be 40 of them! Most of who don’t speak Spanish (let alone English). We are still in discussion, but hopefully one of our Mayan bartenders will come with me to translate. It could be interesting! Most of the women here still wear traditional clothes – I cannot imagine them in shorts! I can’t imagine them even owning shorts! I have this vision in my mind of 40 buxom Mayan chicks in Warrior 2, all wearing hand-woven full skirts, lace tunics and plastic slippers :-) So I’ll keep you posted on how, or whether, that happens!

Wildlife/Housemates Update

I think Behemoth #1 has left home! It seems this house wasn’t big enough for the both of us. Behemoth #2 is still in residence and in revenge for destroying his digs (the Blue Blanket) he now likes to hang out at the top of my stairs, just next to the light switch – scaring the living daylights out of me when I am on my way to bed.

A smaller behemoth (Beast #1) seems to be stepping into the voluminous, but metaphorical, boots vacated by Behemoth #1; I am watching his progress with interest.




Two pikey scorpions are roaming, but not yet ensconced in, my region of the house. The smaller one was first seen in my room – presumably he was stopping by to introduce himself – I was not hospitable, but bravely swept him down the stairs. I suspect he is now hiding in the closet at the bottom of the stairs. The second, however, is out and proud.

The cats are all fine – they have recently formed a Barber Shop Trio, led by ‘Alpha Cat’, and they get together in the kitchen, for a sing, at about 4am, which is just marvellous. ‘Tom Cat’ was ‘done’ last week, to the great relief of everyone – so the house no longer smells of cat pee. He is furious and won’t even look at us anymore. ‘Small Cat’ was also ‘done’ and some kittens were aborted. She looks very small and forlorn now – but we are making a fuss of her and she seems ok.

The last house-mates I should mention are the possums, who come through the kitchen window and mix cocktails in the dead of night – they then get drunk and dance on the roof. I haven’t actually witnessed this because I can’t be bothered to get out of bed, but I hear them loud and clear. At least they shut the cats up.




Life in the garden is also thriving – a large, totally groovy, caterpillar is living near the outside tap. So far, he has ‘burned’ both of my (human) house-mates but not me! I am too sharp. Several frogs abound, both indoors and out, which makes showering more exhilarating.

The herd of bulls from over the river have discovered the uncut grass in our garden is far superior to scrub on their side and are now regular visitors. This is particularly exciting when one to comes to the door for a look, especially if you are half-asleep and not really prepared to see a large bull standing in the open doorway.




I’m posting some pictures of my various housemates – and one (especially for my brother – who is a big fan) of the largest moth I have ever seen. This one was in the shower; I put him out the window, before the ‘shower tarantula’ got him. Behemoth #1 used to love moths...

The Blue Blanket

I don’t want to be boring and I know that spiders have loomed large in my last two blog posts. But spiders are looming large in my life right now – so I am afraid this is another blog about my eight-legged enemies.

Draped casually and prettily over the wall in my room is a large, blue Guatemalan blanket. The other day I decided to see if I could drape the blanket over the rafters and hopefully block out the view of the behemoth that lives in the rafters just beyond my loft (see previous blog). I couldn’t make it work – but shortly after trying; another behemoth hit the ground running, scaring the living daylights out of me, because spiders are nocturnal! You don’t usually see many in the day and you hardly ever see them moving. Like aliens, "they mostly come at night... mostly". It occurred to me afterwards that my moving of the blanket and the agitated appearance of a spider in the afternoon might be connected. Also, this morning upon waking I saw a four-incher sitting right next to the blanket.

So I have come to be of the opinion that this blanket is probably a dark and secluded, palatial spider residence. And it’s in my self-designated space. So it’s going to have to go.

My friend Judit recently told me a story (which I hope she won’t mind me repeating – as it’s a great story!) A few years ago, she and her husband took over the management of a Dive Shop in the tropics. It had been closed for a few months previously, so when they went to inspect the equipment they found whole families of spiders living in the BCDs (jackets). Their solution was to throw all the gear into the sea and then run away! She said within moments the water was full of black, hairy refugees all frantically learning to swim.

With this in mind, whilst I want the blanket gone, actually picking it up and moving it, is the last thing I want to do! I have thought of picking up one end and dropping it into the kitchen below, where I will not be able to witness the resulting exodus (especially if I am cowering strategically on the floor). But inevitably not all of the inhabitants will go down with their blanket. Some will hang onto the wall, next to which I will be strategically cowering. Not good.

Furthermore the blanket is not far from the door. So if things start running, they might block my exit. I have a balcony that I could potentially throw myself off – but so far I haven’t been able to find the key to unlock the door. Which might actually be a good thing.

What to do?

Oh and I saw my first scorpion last night – four inches away from the light switch which I had just used. So that was a valuable lesson about the dangers of turning on lights. On the bright side: in the garden we have hummingbirds! Hummingbirds! Which, as someone once said, "would be impossible, if they didn’t exist!" I will try to get a picture for you. And so many butterflies! It’s funny, you don’t see many butterflies these days – but here they are plentiful.

Addendum

I forgot to mention the cats! I am not sure how many we have because they are all identical. So, needless to say, they are all equally adorable. I am encouraging them to hang-out up here and be fierce with anything smaller than they are.

Last night a very grown-up spider emerged from the rafters – easily as big as my hand and particularly ugly – but he was crouched just beyond my designated loft space, so I made the decision he could stay! Ha!

I managed to convince myself that he was in his space and I am in mine and he has no reason to invade my loft. Of course this is a ridiculous argument as it presupposes the spider recognises the distinction between my loft and his rafters. It also assumes that he gives a damn. I decided not to look at him. That helped. In my favour, yesterday I did sweep my loft with a verve and ferocity that only those of you who knew me as a small child will be able to imagine. However at bedtime I was forced to fully embrace the fact that, should he choose to do so, he could in my bed in less than 30 seconds. He was almost the size of a small cat!

So it’s not surprising that, when one of the small cats jumped onto my bed just as I was dozing off, I should jump, momentarily leaving my skin, and catapult (or kick? I am not sure) the small cat off the bed and across the room. He/she retreated to the bookcase and sat and glared at me with equal parts bewilderment and hatred.

I said sorry, but you know what cats are like – it could be weeks until I’m forgiven.

And no MG4D, I am not travelling with a mosquito net, but it’s something I think I may need to acquire. Because mosquito nets are impenetrable (I believe they are made of the same fabric as Batman’s cape) to any and all monsters. That’s what I choose to believe anyway, and I don’t want any of you to tell me otherwise.

Please.

It’s behind you!

"So how about that stingray? He was cool, wasn’t he?" I asked.
"Yes great! But there was a much bigger one at the beginning, while we were coming down the line. This one was different though," replied my customer, with a puzzled frown.
"Really? How so?"

There are a number of different kinds of rays: your ‘common & garden’ Southern Stingray (above) is the one we see most often. They’re very slick, light grey, very fast – but nervous, so sadly you don’t usually see them for long.

Marble Ray : Photo from Dive Sites Directory

There are other rays though: occasionally around here I’ve seen a Marble Ray, they are bigger and very UFO-ish. Last year, in the Philippines, I was in the pathway of a very startled Marble Ray, it came racing up a wall straight at me – I remember hovering, wide-eyed, completely unable to identify what I was looking at – for a moment I thought I might of been in a real-life Abyss scenario!

Further south they sometimes see Eagle Rays, I used to see them fairly often in Honduras, but since then (6 years ago) I think I’ve only seen two. I’ve never seen one here in Mexico. They’re pretty spectacular. Of course the King of the Rays is the mighty Manta. I’ve only ever seen four of those – unforgettable, gentle giants of the ocean. Related to Mantas are the smaller Devil Rays – they sound scary, but they’re just smaller Mantas, very mellow.

"So what did it look like? What shape was it?"
"Fatter than the other one we saw and it was dark red, with spots I think, and... well... you’re going to think I’m crazy, but it’s head kind of looked like a bird! I think it had a sort of beak!"
"A Spotted Eagle Ray. You saw a Spotted Eagle Ray..." I struggled to keep the resentment and jelousy out of my voice, "where was it?"
"It was very close! It swam right behind you!"
"A Spotted Eagle Ray swam right behind me?" Too brisk, be polite!
"Yes, it was big! Bigger than you! About 6 feet! Are they usually that big?"
"No." I swallowed, "so, a two-metre Spotted Eagle Ray swam right behind me? That’s very big. I haven’t seen an Eagle Ray for well over a year."
"Really? It was quite amazing looking!" he gushed with a broad grin.
"Yes, they are, fantastic. I wish I’d seen it." There was an awkward pause.
"Oh!" The penny dropped. "Oh... I probably should have pointed it out, shouldn’t I?"
"That would have been nice, but never mind." I said, insincerely.
"Oh well. I guess I was lucky!"

Spotted Eagle Ray : Photo by Timothy M GcGovern

Two bloody metres! He saw a two-metre Spotted Eagle Ray and he didn’t think to point it out! The reason it swam right behind me, without me noticing, is because I’ve got to keep looking at him! Bloody customers! I mean, what was he thinking? Even if you know nothing about aquatic life, surely if you saw a red, bird-like creature, with the head of an eagle and a two-bloody-metre wingspan, you’d think that it would be worth a casual nod in the general direction, wouldn’t you? You can’t seriously be expecting to see that when you sign up for your Discover Scuba experience. Surely, you would point and give the appropriate hand signal for ‘what the be-jesus is that?!' Or indeed any hand signal, or a wave, or flap your arms, or at the very least you would stare with big eyes and an open mouth! Wouldn’t you?

I remember coming down the line with him very clearly; he was perfectly calm the whole way. He showed no signs of surprise or alarm. At which point do you think he saw the red, spotted ray, with a head of an eagle and a two-metre wingspan?

Could he have been lying?

I enjoyed my first ever dive, but I have to say, if I had seen a two-metre Spotted Eagle Ray I would have been a bit alarmed. I definitely would have pointed it out to my Instructor. Could he have been lying? But he described it so well... and why would he make up something like that? To wind me up perhaps? He tipped though.

Two-metre Spotted Eagle Ray! Seriously. Right bloody behind me.

Bugger.

Sunday Morning Coming Down

I woke up Sunday morning with a filthy hangover. Drinks the previous afternoon had ended well into the early hours of the morning and during the course of the night I had rediscovered my love of Caribbean Rum. I had a moment’s peace, thinking I might just stay here all day without moving... then I remembered! I had to be somewhere in... oh no! Forty minutes! Because we were going out looking for Bull Sharks!

I hadn’t given much thought to where we were meeting, but was surprised when I realised it was Downtown. Still, I found a place to sit and patiently waited for my friends to arrive and wake me up again. J had his truck, which was fantastic, so our tanks were carried down to the beach whilst we staggered. All but two of us had been out the night before, so we made an odd, reservoir dogsish, kind of crew: swaggering down the street in dark wetsuits, dark glasses and self-pitying grimaces.

Arriving at the beach we geared up and started walking to our entry point. I can’t tell you how hot it is inside a 5mm rubber wetsuit, walking on soft sand, carrying a 20 kilo tank and full gear at 10.30am in the tropics, with a hangover. I have rarely been so happy to finally get in the water. And it was only once I got into the water that I really paid attention to where we were. Basically right out the front of the main beach in town. We swam along to Pier to get to our dive site. For the first part of our surface swim we were accompanied by excited children, but not for long. It was a good half-kilometre to our dive site. Which is a long way.

But finally we got there, and after a quick wave and head count someone shouted “are we going then?” and we quickly slipped beneath the surface. It was clear and cool down there, and as always, all became right with the world. If you don’t dive, then I cannot explain to you the feeling of absolute tranquility that comes over you as you drop gently beneath the waves. It’s still my favourite thing to do, ever, anytime, even (and in fact, especially) on a Sunday morning with a filthy hangover.

Photo from Cancun Aquasports

It didn’t take long, to find what we were looking for. Within five minutes we came across our first Bull Shark. They’re fat, monstrous, medieval looking sharks! With large mouths and a fabulous sinuous swimming motion. They were very relaxed that morning; just cruising the area and we were able to watch them for some time. The nearest coming within three metres of me, and at one point we were watching three at once. I don’t think any of us wanted to come up, even on our safety stop we could see the sharks circling below us! Once we reached the surface, after many excited squeals, and ‘oh my god”s and ‘how cool”s and ‘how many”s’, it was W who finally said, “We should probably get moving, it seems there are sharks in these waters!”

And so began the long swim back to the beach, needless to say, the hangover kicked back-in fairly quickly. When we finally reached the shore, I was reminded of Amityville Island and felt a bit reluctant to answer when a young father, with bucket in hand, asked me what we’d seen. But R was too excited and strolled cheerfully back along the sand shouting, “Sharks! Sharks! Lots of really big sharks!” to anyone who so much as looked his way. I couldn’t help thinking the holiday spirit was slightly dampened by our presence.

After carrying back, breaking the gear down and rinsing, I felt my last ounce of energy slowly drain away. I waved my goodbyes and was back in bed by lunchtime.

Tubbataha Tale #3

Day 4 | Dive 2 | Location: Washing Machine

Turtles are very photogenic. Whenever anyone saw a turtle, the photographers would descend in a swarm, taking picture after picture. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy having the pictures afterwards, but at the time sometimes I would like to have a few moments just to enjoy the moment.

Which is why when I found this little turtle, nestled against the reef, I decided to not to tell anyone. Instead I approached very carefully and lay down on the sand next to him. The turtle and I looked at one another. The turtle didn’t look at all impressed – he watched me for a few moments then carried on staring aimlessly at the reef ahead of him. He appeared to be very relaxed and I found that chilling-out next to a turtle is very relaxing. I am usually dubious about 'humanising' marine animals – but the turtle characterisation in ‘Finding Nemo’ was just too perfect! I’m sure all divers loved that. One feels that a turtle is someone who could use the word ‘dude’ and get away with it!

I’m not sure how long I was there before the first photographer arrived... but thank-you, I was a little resentful but now I have the memory to keep so it’s all good (although I must confess, this wasn’t the only turtle sighting that I kept to myself!)

Tubbataha Tale #2

Day 3 | Dive 1 | Location: Delsan Wreck

I was at -42m, once again the rest of the group were between 7-15 metres above me. Once again, I was in the blue – too far out to see the wall this time. I was checking my direction by watching the other divers above me, to my right. I was looking, once again, for Hammerheads and, once again, I was without success. But there were sharks around, many sharks actually: some beautiful White-tip Reef sharks, some Black-tips also, at least one Bamboo shark and quite a few Grey Reef, even a couple of fairly big ones. I was having a lovely morning!

Most of the sharks were below me, and so that was where I was looking… until I saw something move out of the corner of my eye… I look to up and to my right and there he was – a big shark, directly ahead. It was hard to tell exactly how big – because he was facing me, swimming towards me. I could clearly see the wide mouth and the teeth, which told me he was pretty big. I could see his tail swishing from side to side behind him and suddenly this triggers a memory of something I read recently about Grey Reef sharks: “when disturbed they show typically antagonistic behaviour, such as swimming with exaggerated movements.”

“Big teeth” I mused to myself. Then suddenly it hit me! There was a large shark swimming straight at me! I’m 42m underwater, being approached, at speed, by a large animal with big teeth! Oh!

But I was calm, I stayed motionless, I watched. He swam straight towards me until, at the last possible moment, he made a graceful swerve to the left. As he passed I could see he was, indeed, quite big – nearly 3m. He gave me a dismissive look: If the shark had a voice, it would have sounded like Robert de Niro and it would have said,
“Are you looking at me?”
Either that, or it would have sounded like Stephen Fry and said:
“How disappointing! You looked fatter from a distance.”

Too late, I realised I should have pointed it out to the other divers. It had taken another left swerve and was almost underneath them, I looked up to see my dive buddy already pointing.

Afterwards the Divemaster told me it was an Oceanic White-tip. This is what the Ocean Guide has to say about them:

OCEANIC WHITE-TIP SHARK

Up to 350cm. Pelagic species, only sometimes venturing close to coral reef areas. One of the largest species of the family, it is easily distinguished by it's large rounded dorsal and pectoral fins with broad white tips. This elegant and fast swimmer lacks the hectic movements typical of many requiem sharks. Often accompanied by pilot fish or other sharks. Said to be one of the four sharks most dangerous to humans, but there are no confirmed reports of attacks.

Two sleeps until...

I go on holiday! Hurray! Once again I hear you ask:
"And what does a dive instructor who lives on a remote island do for her holidays?"
Once again I reply, "I’m going to an even more remote spot (note the absence of the word 'island') to do some diving!" Hurrah and hurray!

I am going to Tubbataha Reef for five whole days. Tubbataha: National Marine Park since 1988, UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1993 and unanimously agreed to be, not just the best diving in the Philippines, but some of the best in South East Asia. Hurrah, huzzah and hurray!



As you can see from the map (thanks Google) Tubbataha is an awful long way from anywhere else. Not just in distance… take another look at the map, note how many cities are marked, how many cities that are big enough to make the map. Not many. Palawan (the big island to the west) is remote. Tubbataha is the edge of the world.

And what do I hope to see? Well I am keeping everything crossed for hammerhead sharks. I have seen one, once before, and have never forgotten it... but that's another story!



Some manta rays would also be fine. I expect to see lots and lots and lots of fish: the area has never been over-fished, because no one has ever lived there, and since 1988 there’s been no fishing at all. This is going to be the nearest thing to pristine that I have ever seen. Because there are no islands (just a few sandbanks at low tide) Tubbataha is home to many pelagic (big ocean-going) animals and as you can see from the map, there is a dramatic drop off very close by – the deeper the water, the bigger the fish. There are sometimes whale sharks and even (can I dare to hope?) whales seen at Tubbataha.

I plan to do four dives a day. I am told some will do five – but I am not sure if I can take that pace! I was anticipating doing at least one night dive... but when talking to a friend recently he cheerfully told me of his own experience:

"Of course the fish are drawn to your light and the sharks follow the fish," he said. "So don’t be surprised to turn your light and find yourself surrounded by very big sharks!" He grinned, "and they look so much bigger up-close and in the dark!"

Hmmmmm. Back on the 12th – watch this space!

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?

Inner Space

There are two places in Asia that are very famous for wreck diving: Truk Lagoon in Micronesia and Coron Bay in Palawan. The first wreck we dived in Coron (the 120m warship, Akitsushima) was bombed twice during the attack on Truk, but managed to escape, only to be repaired and then finally sunk in Coron Bay. How unlucky is that?

The Akitsushima was nearly ripped in half by the explosion, but the two halves remain surprisingly intact – as do all of the wrecks. It’s an eerie feeling to swim through cargo holds and engine rooms and see all the machinery and hardware still complete, albeit coral encrusted. Inside the Kogya Maru (a Japanese freighter carrying construction supplies, intended for building a runway) it appeared they had tried to plug a hole with cement sacks – we could see this clearly in the light coming through the much larger hole above us. However the human evidence of the attacks has presumably been recovered (or stolen? I hope recovered), as the only human remains we saw was a single arm bone lying next to the Akitsushima.


And this leads to my one reservation about the wrecks: I couldn’t help feeling somewhat voyeuristic, diving in a war grave. Perhaps this is also what makes it so exciting - that idea of a precise moment of time and history, captured and preserved by the ocean.

In my head I have so many perfect images: dropping down to 36 metres and looking up at the towering hulk of the Irako; peering through a hatch and seeing a very surprised looking grouper looking back at me; watching a blue-spotted stingray gently burying itself in the sand at the base of a massive propeller; the speckled light coming through jagged holes; a lone ladder dropping down into a deep, black shaft; schools of jacks gathering around the crows nest… such beauty in destruction.

I would go back tomorrow and dive them all again.

I should also mention Barracuda Lake, which was without doubt, the trippiest dive I have ever done! It is a fresh water lake, in the crater of an old volcano. The scenery is dramatic: the approach to the island reminded me of King Kong’s Island! It’s a forbidding, but sunny, place. To get to the lake you must climb up and over some jagged rocks in full gear (I will never complain about shore diving again). And the dive! Blimey. On the surface the temperature is was 28ºC, we dropped and admired the same sheer cliff walls now underwater, at 12m we passed the first thermocline – a shimmering line across our vision and quickly I watched the temp gauge on my computer shoot up: 29…30…31….32….33…34……35…36ºC! Really! It was uncomfortably hot, I touched the wall of the lake and the sand was hot. Our guide was rubbing the sand, then suddenly a jet of hot water shot out… all very strange!

We kept descending: at about 25m the water turned into tea. Literally. There is a layer of tannin at the bottom of the lake. At 30 metres it was so stewed we lost our guide – he was no more than 50cm in front… and then gone. I was with two others – I held on to Claire! The other girl was a Divemaster, so I didn’t hold on to her – but she stayed very close. At 33m I could not longer see my hand in front of my face! It was absolutely black. And that was as far as I was prepared to go!

We found our guide at 20m and all was well!

On holiday

I am on holiday! Hurrah! And what does a Dive Instructor, who lives on a tropical island, do for her holidays, I hear you ask? Well, obviously I’ve come to another tropical island to do some… guess what? Yep, diving!

I am actually very much looking forward to diving WITHOUT STUDENTS! I am looking forward to having a guide and not having to navigate and I am very, very much looking forward to looking at fish and not at the other divers.

We, (my friend Claire and I) have come to Coron, Palawan, one of the more remote spots in the Philippines to dive the wrecks here. In 1944 the Japanese ‘hid’ their fleet in Coron Bay, unfortunately for them, the Americans spotted them and launched an attack. The air-strike was sent from aircraft carriers 350 miles away – setting a new record for long distance raids.

There are 18 wrecks here – I am not sure how many we will get to do, but we start tomorrow! Hurrah!

50 minutes underwater

My brother often makes jokes about having an incomprehensible job – I have a job that everyone has heard of! You’ve all, no doubt, watched Nat Geo documentaries with divers, but do you actually know what I do on an ordinary day? Yesterday I was guiding, and it was a good day! This blog is about one dive.

I suppose I should start with all the paperwork, getting all the gear ready, the careful chat with my customer to establish how confident/competent/experienced he is as a diver and most important, how likely he is to panic! Then there’s the dive briefing, loading up the boat, setting up the gear… and finally, getting in the water!

We back-rolled off the boat and I swam round to Dave, my customer. Quick ‘ok’ and then I gave the signal to drop. As we sunk into 5 metres of water, I watched his body language, descent speed and positioning – from this, I could see that he was going to be an easy customer – great!

I looked around to get my bearings – nearby was Kate, another Instructor, with two customers - an older couple. Staying out of their way, I signalled to Dave and we headed out to the wall.



When I have a new customer, I particularly like this Dive Site, for two reasons: firstly, in the first few minutes I can take a route that is over sand, so if my customer is a bit ‘wobbly’ they won’t hit (and damage) the coral. Also, I can swim backwards without worrying about hitting anything. I like to swim backwards at the beginning to keep an eye on my customer – you can’t speak when diving, so you learn to read a lot by the way people move and react. In diving it’s important to spot problems before they occur. Secondly, on the slope down to the wall is an Eel Garden – lots of big Garden Eels. They look like grass from a distance but when you get close you can see they’re alive! It’s always good to show a customer something cool at the beginning of a dive – it distracts them from any nerves they might have.


At the bottom of the slope we turned left and started cruising along the wall, dropping slowly to about 20m depth. I got lucky! Looking down, I saw the shape of a fish tail in the rock! A Scorpion Fish! They are very well camouflaged and usually, I find them hard to spot – this one was big too. I signalled Dave to come and look – I watched him blinking uncertainly at the rock – he couldn’t see it. Carefully, I pointed out its’ shape again – they’re poisonous. I saw his eyes go wide when he spotted it. He grinned through his reg and I moved on.



There was lot to see – a small school above us was being hunted by some snappers, which were darting back and forward and the corals are exceptional at this site – so I was able to point out lots to Dave and he was happy! As we reached the ‘corner’ I started to feel the current (pushing us round and out to sea), indicating it was about time to turn around, but first there was a nice big overhang to investigate – and what do I see there but a free-swimming moray!

Excellent! I pointed but I didn’t turn round – I didn’t want to take my eyes off it in case I lost it! Usually morays hide away in the rocks and all we see is a nose peeping out – so to see one free-swimming is always good.

I turned to see Kate and her divers behind me. I pointed out the moray to them and one of her divers planted herself right in front of me – which was a little rude – but then she’s paying I guess! Kate signalled to me that she needed to go up and asked me if I could take care of her two customers. I agreed and she signalled to them what she was doing. I looked back at the moray, it was now moving along the wall, in and out of the rocks. It disappeared into a hole and moments later a banded shrimp came charging out brandishing it’s tiny claws, looking very fierce! The moray had obviously frightened it!



I signalled my (now) three divers that we were turning around and coming up the wall. I had already briefed Dave on our Dive Plan and I know that Kate takes the same route as me, so I assumed the other two would also know where we were going. We turned and started to make our way up the wall. Dave followed me, but the couple followed for a few minutes and then dropped down again. I wasn’t impressed: regardless of what I had just signalled, once you start ascending you shouldn’t go back down – this is a basic rule that all divers should know. I signalled to them to come back and level-off at my depth, they saw my signal but ignored me. I continued watching them but did nothing: they are certified divers, they know the rules – so it’s their decision. After a few minutes they decided to come up and join me. When you start ascending you need to release air from your BCD (Buoyancy Control Device) in order to stay neutrally buoyant (i.e. neither floating nor sinking), again, this is basic stuff. Dave had already done this without being prompted. These two idiots had not. I signalled to them to release some air. The woman did, the man ignored me. I signalled to him again: pointing out that he was rising and needed to release some air now. The man gave me the signal for ‘relax’ or ‘chill out’. I was not impressed and he was still rising. I started to swim towards him – if he didn’t release some air he would start rising too fast and I would need to catch him and hold him down (this is exactly how I hurt my ears a few months ago). At the last possible moment he released.

Kate told me afterwards that, before the dive, he had got cross with her for doing a ‘Buddy Check’ (a last minute check that we all do to make sure our equipment is working and nothing has been forgotten). He told her he didn’t need a check because he was an "expert" diver, he knew "everything" and didn’t make mistakes. In other words he was a fool and he was going to be a headache for me! We continued along the top of the wall – lots of fish, lots to see, but I’m now watching this guy in case he gets himself into trouble!

When we reached the sandy slope back to the mooring line I caught sight of a large cuttlefish! It was the biggest I’ve seen around here so I was very excited! I really like cuttlefish – cephalopods are actually my favourite things to see in the water (Octopus are the best! With Squid and Cuttlefish as a close second. I have yet to see a Nautilus, but they do live around here so hopefully I will soon). One of the things I love about them is that they can change colour – this one was turning white as it swam over the sand and then mottled orange-pink when it moved over coral. Excellent! I turned to check on my divers – when I turned back I couldn’t see it. Arrrggghhh! Their camouflage is too good! This is why you should keep one eye on them all the time! I knew he was around somewhere though, so I decided to stay put.



First I checked everyone’s air: Dave signalled he had half a tank – great. The man signalled that he was ok. I asked again how much air he had and he (crossly) signalled ‘half-tank’, as did his wife. I told them all to stay around here and turned again to try and find the cuttlefish. There it was! I waved at Dave and he swam over, I then turned to signal to the couple – they were swimming back down the slope again. I was getting really fed up of them now! I caught the woman’s attention and told them to come back, pointing in the direction of the boat. I didn’t bother to point out the cuttlefish. Sod them! After a few minutes we started back through the shallows to the boat.

When we reached the mooring line, the woman signalled that she was low-on-air. She had obviously lied to me 10 minutes earlier when she said she had a half-tank. Why do people do that?! I put her on the line and told her and her husband to go up the line to the surface. She signalled ok and started up. Her husband went up to about 1 metre below the surface… and then started coming down again. I signalled to him to stay with his Buddy (for safety, we always dive in pairs, known as ‘buddy teams’. Buddy teams should always stay together) he ignored me. I got right in front of him, behind him I can see his wife also coming back down – obviously she had remembered they are a buddy team, but she is low on air! I told her to stop and signalled again to him to stay with his buddy and surface. Once again he gave me the signal to ‘chill out’ I was definitely not impressed and shoo’ed the pair of them up the line.

After a few more minutes in the shallows Dave and I came up. The couple were back on the boat – she was apologetic, he was pointedly ignoring me. I sat next to him and explained why I had sent him up. “I wasn’t looking at my depth gauge,” he said, as if that explained everything. I resisted the temptation to say “why not, you muppet” and smiled sweetly instead.

Chatted to Dave on the way back. Sold him three more dives and encouraged him to bring his girlfriend along to do a “Discover Scuba” session. Great dive, but fingers crossed I don’t see the other two again!

10 things / 5 things

Ten things I love about the Philippines:

[1] I love the way shop assistants tell you what you're looking at while you shop:

"shoes ma'am... white dress ma'am...
tee-shirt ma'am"

I never know what to reply?

"errr, yes! Indeed it is!
Thank-you!"

[2] I love that the advertising is still honest: a brand of Filipino hot-dog sausages were having a special promotion last week. Their slogan was:

"New & improved! Now you can eat more
than two without feeling sick!"

Brilliant!

[3] I love the way Filipinos always offer to share their food... [especially hot-dogs!] and that it is rude to say No! It can be awkward, a few days ago I had to sit down to sticky rice pudding with condensed milk straight after a big lunch. It was a struggle!

[4] I love that the ocean is so changeable and incomprehensibly unpredictable. Currents can change direction in moments, conditions are impossible to predict and you never know what you might see. On any given dive you might see sharks, turtles, tuna, marlin... or absolutely nothing.

[5] The sexual & platonic liberation: Transvestites are no big deal over here - no-one bats an eye-lid. Gay couples are never stared at or harassed - it wouldn't even cross people's minds. I have even come to appreciate the blatant prostitution - it's in your face, but at least it's honest. Saw a hooker recently wearing a tee-shirt that read: "cheap, safe and friendly" [grin] I also love the platonic liberation - male friends think nothing of having an arm around one-another or holding hands. Filipinos are tactile and it's just friendly. I like that.

[6] I love that when it rains it comes down in sheets and floods the streets in minutes. Then it stops abruptly and paradise resumes.

[7] Being called Jane! Obviously I like being called Jane everywhere I go - but over here they know the name! Having a name that is mostly a vowel sound and starts with a J can be problematic. In other places I have been variously known as: Shin, Yayne, Hanay, Gin, Zeen, Jiyne... the list is endless! But Jane is also a Filipino name! So far I have met two: little Jane from the shop [she's 8] thinks it's great that I have a 'Filipino name' and as a consequence we have a daily ritual of:

"Hi Jane"
"Hi Jane!"
"How are you Jane?"
"I'm fine Jane" etc

Which she finds endlessly amusing and I have become resigned to! [I'm joking, she's a lovely child, I like her.]

[8] I love the way when Filipinos drink alcohol, they drink from the same cup! They poor a shot, the first person drinks, then passes the bottle & cup on to the next person. [They also drink all their spirits neat, with a water chaser.]

[9] I love Taglish! Officially the language here is Tagalog, the second language is English. Unofficially everyone speaks Taglish. In Taglish all numbers plus certain phrases are English. For example: I caught the local TV news last night. A man was giving a statement, it went something like this:

"Ang ba pusoy kamitin 50-50 chance nangarak ka abutin mo 75% chance mangbay ang kay angdang faulty electrical
wiring upang bitiin makamit extreme
fashion kayo ba ito'y buhay make a full
recovery"

Brilliant!

[10] Black-outs: The power goes out here a lot. Usually every day, usually a few times a day. I don't love that [grin]. What I love is the way Filipinos react - it's like hitting a pause button. Remember musical statues? It's like that! The moment the power goes, everyone stops - street sellers sit down and waitresses stand still - I was in the Deli the other evening when the power went, the Deli has a back-up generator so they still had light, but none-the-less the Assistant stopped making my cheese sandwich until the power came back on! When the power comes back everyone cheers!

Five things I hate about the Philippines

[1] Cockroaches. They are big, they are many and they are everywhere! Ugh. When they run around on my raffia-covered walls they make a rustling sound and sometimes I dream that things are crawling on me... "paranoia" you say? Yeah, that's what I keep telling myself too.

Until last night, I would have said the biggest were about 2" long. Big enough. Last night, I opened the door to get some air and something fell off the door onto my foot. From the weight of it, I thought it must be a lizard, but then it scuttled and I knew. Bravely, I ran away making a funny yelping sound, which I had no idea I could make. I glared from a distance - it was nearly 3" long. Eeurrgh. Fortunately, having recently certified as a Dive Instructor [hurrah!] I am in possession of a huge tome-ish Instructor Manual. I threw it. Nothing moved - victory was mine. Half an later curiosity got the better of me and I went back to check - the Manual had landed on it's body, pinning it to the ground [and crushing it surely?] but it's head was sticking out and it's whiskers were still moving! Arrrrgggghhhh! Bravely, I ran away. Fortunately, yesterday I had purchased a new bottle of water [I buy the giant ones that go onto office Water Dispensers] I put the water on top of the Manual and went to bed.

This morning the head was gone. I can think of two possibilities: [a] The monstrous cockroach, bench-pressed the Manual and the water and got himself out of there. [b] There were sufficient numbers of roaches in my room last night to eat the monsters head, leaving no trace.

I actually prefer to think he escaped.

I should have lifted the Manual and looked. But I didn't. I asked them to clean my room instead! Poor Lisa won't like it - but neither do I! "Cowardly!" you say? Yeah well... I saw 3 big sharks in the deep blue yesterday morning and felt nothing but exhilaration. We all have our limits.

[2] Electricity: The wiring here is awful. I electrocuted myself last week turning on a lamp. It threw me across the room and my arm was tingly until the next morning [sigh].

[3] Sleeping with a fan on: It's too windy! Obviously you can't sleep without it because you wake-up in a pool of sweat... but with it, I have anxious dreams about low-flying helicopters and wake up with a stiff neck. Boo.

[4] Can I say cockroaches again? They are by far the worst thing! And they fly! Do they usually fly? I don't think so. They don't fly very well, however, and sometimes crash into your head... ugh.

[5] OK, cockroaches three times is a bit much... there must be something else I hate? Nope, it's going to have to be cockroaches - I hate their whiskers/antennae or whatever they are. They twitch in a gross and sinister manner... did I mention they were everywhere? [sigh]