We've had a couple of bouts of it recently. After my last post, we both got extremely nervous about the bends, and it took a lot of breathing calming and telling off from our divemaster to get us back into a normal place. Now, I have an achy back, my stomach's felt weird all day, and it's super super hot, so I am, of course, convinced I have a fever that I have one of any number of horrible diseases (described to us in detail by our new friends, a pair of nurses (German and Swiss). Honestly, medical people sometimes are the least reassuring. Everyone goes on about informed consent but I would so often just not be treated as an intelligent adult but given the bare minimum. I don't want to know about other complications. Really. Because then it leads to this sort of stuff.
This bout is also clearly brought on by the prospect of a night dive tonight. I am manufacturing all sorts of symptoms so that I don't have to do it, even though I keep telling both myself and everyone else that I'm desperately excited to be doing it.
It's also the first day where the sheer shimmering of the heat has really, really, really got to me. It was scorching this morning, and hasn't calmed down at all, not once, all day. The shade here is genuinely wonderful - you are automatically so much cooler, it's a wondrous thing. But being indoors is not fun, nor are mosquito nets, despite their glorious efficacy (which is why my malaria paranoia is, if not ridiculous, on the paranoid side - I'd have to be pretty fricking unlucky to get it from a mere four bites in the time we've been away).
Still, time waits for no man, nor woman, and it turns out we have to be at the dive shop in ten minutes. Oops. So I guess the hour is upon us and there's no going back.
Ulp.
Showing posts with label scubatastic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label scubatastic. Show all posts
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
The words are coming out all weird
Day eight in Wimbi, much like those proceeding it and undoubtedly subsequent ones. Except today we thought we spotted dolphins as we headed out for our dive; we took some fabulous photos, and some dreadful ones, too. We've convinced ourselves we may have the bends; my calf is all weird, slightly dizzy, but I think that's low blood sugar after one too many last night. NEVER dive hungover - you use up far too much air, and get utterly paranoid about decompression sickness.
The sky is clear, the sun is shining, and for the second time in a few days we are losing friends to other parts of the continent. We've had a wonderful experience getting to know people in the past week, which we shunned, to be honest, the first couple of weeks. In contrast we've barely met any locals; the language barrier makes a massive difference here, as we just can't converse. We're trying a bit more Portuguese, but the sounds are so unfamiliar, it's difficult to make them come out, particularly when Spanish sounds are what I reach for first.
It's a strange place, this one. It's utterly, utterly beautiful - you would not believe how clear the water is - much more so than that stuff coming out of NYC's taps. The sand is white, not too fine or silty. You can swim in the morning and evening, right by our lodgings. People here are incredibly enthusiastic about it, but still can't quite believe you've heard or it, or why you're here. Ex-pats all stick together, certainly. It's nice to overcome some stereotypes they hold - they insist you shouldn't hitch a ride with black Africans "because they'll charge you" - not so the very kind gentleman from Maputo who gave us a lift into Pemba this afternoon. They also all insist on the incredible danger of the roads, and drive home drunk, without seatbelts. It's... astonishing. I've not seen a single white person wear a seatbelt.
It's been so interesting to be here, surrounded by them, while reading a most remarkable book - The Grass Is Singing by Doris Lessing. Absolutely astonishing, particularly as it was her first book. I was planning to read it while on the train between Joburg and Cape Town, but suddenly felt the impulse to read it, and am so glad I did - it is horrible, but captures something really powerful about race and power relations, while being incredibly directly written - not at all flowery or ornate, but clear prose. It particularly stands in contrast to my first reading of To The Lighthouse, which I was a tad disappointed in, I must confess; there was simply no space to breathe, no respite from the sentences piling on top of each other, or so it felt to me. Where she was describing things, rather than thoughts, I loved it; otherwise, I was not so keen. I also read Call Me By Your Name, by Aciman - one of Adela's favourites, and it was also wonderful. So this holiday really has been full of great reads. Anyway, my point was - lots of the language and attitudes of people really are on the same continuum as the horrors written in this book. It accurately captures something about white Africans, from my observations, even if they are not at the extremes of the attitudes in the book. But it also has wider implications, commonality, about gender and society and marriage. Fantastic. Ms Scutts got it for me, so a big fat public thanks for that!
Time to dash. Not that anyone dashes anywhere here. It's gloriously slow-paced - sometimes it's infuriating, but most of the time, refreshing, particularly as we really have nothing to do. Cape Town will definitely be more active, so we should enjoy it while it lasts...
The sky is clear, the sun is shining, and for the second time in a few days we are losing friends to other parts of the continent. We've had a wonderful experience getting to know people in the past week, which we shunned, to be honest, the first couple of weeks. In contrast we've barely met any locals; the language barrier makes a massive difference here, as we just can't converse. We're trying a bit more Portuguese, but the sounds are so unfamiliar, it's difficult to make them come out, particularly when Spanish sounds are what I reach for first.
It's a strange place, this one. It's utterly, utterly beautiful - you would not believe how clear the water is - much more so than that stuff coming out of NYC's taps. The sand is white, not too fine or silty. You can swim in the morning and evening, right by our lodgings. People here are incredibly enthusiastic about it, but still can't quite believe you've heard or it, or why you're here. Ex-pats all stick together, certainly. It's nice to overcome some stereotypes they hold - they insist you shouldn't hitch a ride with black Africans "because they'll charge you" - not so the very kind gentleman from Maputo who gave us a lift into Pemba this afternoon. They also all insist on the incredible danger of the roads, and drive home drunk, without seatbelts. It's... astonishing. I've not seen a single white person wear a seatbelt.
It's been so interesting to be here, surrounded by them, while reading a most remarkable book - The Grass Is Singing by Doris Lessing. Absolutely astonishing, particularly as it was her first book. I was planning to read it while on the train between Joburg and Cape Town, but suddenly felt the impulse to read it, and am so glad I did - it is horrible, but captures something really powerful about race and power relations, while being incredibly directly written - not at all flowery or ornate, but clear prose. It particularly stands in contrast to my first reading of To The Lighthouse, which I was a tad disappointed in, I must confess; there was simply no space to breathe, no respite from the sentences piling on top of each other, or so it felt to me. Where she was describing things, rather than thoughts, I loved it; otherwise, I was not so keen. I also read Call Me By Your Name, by Aciman - one of Adela's favourites, and it was also wonderful. So this holiday really has been full of great reads. Anyway, my point was - lots of the language and attitudes of people really are on the same continuum as the horrors written in this book. It accurately captures something about white Africans, from my observations, even if they are not at the extremes of the attitudes in the book. But it also has wider implications, commonality, about gender and society and marriage. Fantastic. Ms Scutts got it for me, so a big fat public thanks for that!
Time to dash. Not that anyone dashes anywhere here. It's gloriously slow-paced - sometimes it's infuriating, but most of the time, refreshing, particularly as we really have nothing to do. Cape Town will definitely be more active, so we should enjoy it while it lasts...
Monday, August 18, 2008
Catching Up
It's just going to be impossible to do all the days, so I'm not going to bother, alas.
I've been writing things down in the travel book, so observations will come as I get back and recount, along with photos. But really, unfortunately, it's just not possible. I'm sure you're devastated.
To sum up: Until Thursday, we were doing our diving course. We did open water dives - ulp! Absolutely amazing. Even though we had skills to do, and horrible tasks to perform (I'm terrible at mask replacement and clearing - always forget to blow out through my nose) it was wonderful. We saw so many fish, including glorious purple & yellow things, and gorgeous orange & white anemonefish, and even the tendrils of a lionfish. Wonderful.
It was a bit of a contrast to go diving yesterday - we knew it'd be weird not diving with the wonderful Inka and Sufi at Bahari, but it was. The guy didn't really seem to care that my BCD didn't work, and then acted surprised when I ran out of air quickly. We were also repeatedly kicked and barged by a large (in height and numbers) Dutch family. Still... we saw stingrays. Tons of blue-spotted stingrays. They were incredible - just shot out of the sand like rockets. Absolutely amazing. Plus lots of gorgeous, glorious fish. So even a bad dive is good - and it made me feel confident about the safety procedures, because I was using someone else's air for a long time, and ascended with someone else, so all good.
That was all in Jambiani - on the east coast of the island where the water is truly turquoise, the sand is extremely fine and white, and it's glorious. We had some privacy issues - my observations on which I'll mull over and save for later, but again, people couldn't quite get their heads around us and what we were doing there. We ate amazing food, met an awesome Ugandan guy who was really interesting, talking about Uganda and his family, and walked along the beach in the full moon which produced spectacular amounts of light.
So a pretty good weekend - plus much reading - finished Choke by Chuck Palahniuk, and will have finished Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut, too, as well as The World According to Garp, since I've been here. We didn't get much done last week - so much reading for our PADI certification, but hopefully again, that'll change.
I've been writing things down in the travel book, so observations will come as I get back and recount, along with photos. But really, unfortunately, it's just not possible. I'm sure you're devastated.
To sum up: Until Thursday, we were doing our diving course. We did open water dives - ulp! Absolutely amazing. Even though we had skills to do, and horrible tasks to perform (I'm terrible at mask replacement and clearing - always forget to blow out through my nose) it was wonderful. We saw so many fish, including glorious purple & yellow things, and gorgeous orange & white anemonefish, and even the tendrils of a lionfish. Wonderful.
It was a bit of a contrast to go diving yesterday - we knew it'd be weird not diving with the wonderful Inka and Sufi at Bahari, but it was. The guy didn't really seem to care that my BCD didn't work, and then acted surprised when I ran out of air quickly. We were also repeatedly kicked and barged by a large (in height and numbers) Dutch family. Still... we saw stingrays. Tons of blue-spotted stingrays. They were incredible - just shot out of the sand like rockets. Absolutely amazing. Plus lots of gorgeous, glorious fish. So even a bad dive is good - and it made me feel confident about the safety procedures, because I was using someone else's air for a long time, and ascended with someone else, so all good.
That was all in Jambiani - on the east coast of the island where the water is truly turquoise, the sand is extremely fine and white, and it's glorious. We had some privacy issues - my observations on which I'll mull over and save for later, but again, people couldn't quite get their heads around us and what we were doing there. We ate amazing food, met an awesome Ugandan guy who was really interesting, talking about Uganda and his family, and walked along the beach in the full moon which produced spectacular amounts of light.
So a pretty good weekend - plus much reading - finished Choke by Chuck Palahniuk, and will have finished Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut, too, as well as The World According to Garp, since I've been here. We didn't get much done last week - so much reading for our PADI certification, but hopefully again, that'll change.
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