Wednesday, October 27
For the day I had two objectives, get out of this hotel and start diving. The sound of heavy equipment before seven in the clock in the morning. What was that? Some sort of construction equipment, no horns, something big. I figured maybe I should conduct my search on the internet as I had failed so miserably the previous night. The end of the road was blocked off, six guys were leaning against various objects, checking things out. Four cops were standing around, doing pretty much the same thing. A big yellow Caterpillar road grader was working over the sandy road, churny up some of the rocks, knocking the high spots into the low spots, generally doing road grader stuff. I walked down a long dark trail that lead promisingly off the road, but entered Independence, Belize a minor junk yard of collapsed buildings, cars on blocks, a microwave unexplanably resting on a board nailed to a tree with no electrical outlet nearby, corrugated steel patched walls. No I am not going back to Indendence literally or figuratively. A few more were attractive, but to close to the road. I walked to the end of town and beyond, the sea at morn calm and blue on my right beyond the narrow beach of white sand, lush green vegetation and palms on my left and not a piece of trash in site. No creole interjecting the ultimate explecitive as every third word in a sentence. Nice place here, me thinks. I walked around the corner to the end of the road and turned around and headed back. I spotted a place that was now showing the beginnings of morning activity, private cabins for rent, internet, hmmm. About a hundred yards up the path was a reception office. Two European tourists sat at computers updating their Facebook postings, which seems to account for 80% of tourist computer usage. No, they didn’t know where the manager was. I inquired at the restaurant and realized that I was talking to everybody in English. This whole island spoke English that was easier to understand than most folks back in the U.S of A. Two young ladies blending the mornings fruits into juices pointed to a man accross the yard in a blue “SECURITY” shirt. He showed me a little cabin, no TV, no air, private bat, big bed next to no room, right past the chicken coop that also housed numerous parakeets. Using my worst negotiating skills I said, “I’ll take it, let me go getmybags.” Back on ??? I entered my air conditioned room easily two, maybe three times the size of the cabin into which I was moving, packed my bags, grabbbed my room key and headed out the door. I walked accross the street to the little store that serves as the offices. The narrow door could not accomodate my shoulds and with a 70 liter backpack and a 30 litre day pack, a fanny pack and a camera no way I would get in there sideways. I had quickly grown to be annoyed by the little place the night before. The way the front door opened into the counter where people were always standing, paying for something, blocking the door. Last night as I tried to enter the people just stood there; behind them was an ice cream freezer, there was no where to go but down a store aisle. I opened the door with my right hand and threw the keys on the counter around the door in a hook shot and left.
A thousand yards later a strap on my backpack gave way. I really should have had Mark bring me down a much better one, but the one I had my eyes on was 110 liters, roughly the size of a ballroom. A thousand yards later, with only a few hundred meters left to go I walked on with the bag on one strap, somewhere a chiropractor was rubbing his hands in glee, “here comes another one.” I was in a different world. A cat surveiled the chickens. The parakeets ignored it all. The sand had been recently raked clean. I dropped my bags onto the porch and entered the cabin which had been unlocked. I can pretty much take over a place in a hurry. I unpack my pack and spread out all my diddy bags making a quick appraisal of their contents and throwing the ones with things I wouldn’t need for a while, a rainjacket, a heavy explores vest, solar powered battery chargers, nature survival gear, etc, from the books, computers, cameras and clothes.
The wall fan made an incredible noise, I stopped by the office, got the key and asked the manager to have the fan fixed. He yelled to some guy across the street and I left to go check out the dive shops. By now it was nearing nine and shops were open. I soon discovered that all the dive shops offer the same trips for the same price. The manager of the “resort” at which I was staying had recommended Reef Runners. Half a kilometer later I walked through the front doors and sat down in a chair in front of a guy who obviously owned the place. “Hi, where do I get a cup of coffee that I can drink while you explain to me why I should use your dive company?” Business was slow, they had over half a dozen dive masters and would take me out anytime I want even if there were no other students or divers. That was quick. I went to the bank, withdrew U.S. Dollars, returned an paid half the $320 price of the Advanced Course and did what? I walked around of course, passing the same people six or eight times already that morning. “Hey you, quit stalking me.” I said to two girls that had been on the bus, the boat, the beach and on the road many times that morning. No wonder everybody is polite, you will see them again in twenty minutes. Camera, itouch, sunglasses, sunscreen, hat, utility knife, wallet, ditty bag, passport, waterproof passport holder, flashlight, light attenuator, four extra batteries my fanny pack was its usual felix the cat grab bag of goodies. A quick breakfast and I came back to surf on the itouch while looking at the ocean and talking with the staff of Reef Runners. Eight dive masters, one customer, one waitress, the couple that owned the place. I was soon a fixture, just one of the gang.
I read my Scuba Adventures book, which is really also the Advanced Scuba book, it just depends how many certified specialty dives one takes. Hmmm, drift diving, that was first dozen dives, down in Cozumel, deep water, I went through strong current, low visibity, through the head of a giant coral and emerged from Devil’s throat my first day of open water diving. Of course it wasn’t a certied dive and my log book had long since disappeard. Search and rescue? Advanced bouyancy? High Altitude (not likely at sea level), propelling devices (the were broken) boat diving, I have only dived off shore twice. Ahh time will tell.
At two thirty my charming dive master came over and asked if I minded if we brought some other people along. She was certifying another dive master who had to lead some dives. This was about as easy as it could be, clear water, less than 60 feet and one diver. Sure, no problem, then another dive instructor candidate and another dive instructor, with whom I had been chatting. Gear was gathered and assembled, how big a BCD did I need? “Look at me… do you have anything bigger than extra large?” Fin size, 45 / 12. Mask? Sure. Hey wears the snorkel? Three women and a guy took the one paying passenger to the drive. The captain was aboard. The pre dive talk took about 10 minutes. Considering everything she had to tell us, the terrain, the water conditions, the dive plan then the mundane: the symbols to be used how we were getting into the water and out of the water, etc she did pretty well. I paid a little bit more attention than when the stewardess tells you about the oxygen masks.
Then we covered the boat, the radio, the cell phone, the flares for emergency communication. I could yell to shore. Oxygen, we are only going to eighteen meters. Ok, they were training dive masters, but this was the most safety concious operation I had ever seen.
Total time from the dock to the dive site was probably eight minutes, with three of those minutes filled with the captain of the boat telling divers they shouldn’t be swimming in the boating channels. We moored off to a bouy, the water was azure, I put on my gear and rolled back into the water, we met at the bouy and the Dive master to be be led us down. Fifteen meters later I had to tell her I couldn’t clear. The pressure on my left ear could not be abated. She led led me back up and down, but I didn’t want to go. I have never had a problem clearing. If I am congested, I’ll just skip this dive thank you very much. She did a terrific job. We swam around the boat and they had a boarding ladder. I am used to grabbing the gunwhale, giving a hellacious kick and flopping less than gracefully at the hips and kick a foot over.
?? Where do I get a burger?
??? The instructor to the dive masters told me to get some ibuprofen, practice purging without swallowing and maybe I could go tomorrow. Throughout the day at least eight people expressed their condolences. It was just a missed dive trip, I’d have felt worse if I smacked my thumb with a hammer.
??? Told me where I could find a pharmacy, back down to the main road, make a right…. On a hunch I walked to the mini-super next door and inspecting the scant supply of personal hygiene supplies, next to the condoms, where would they be? “Yo necessito medicina ibuprofen.” “Sure”, she said and turned around pulled a big box off the shelf and put it on the counter, pulling out a vacuum pack of 10 600mg ibuprofen. “Quento questo?” “Fifty Limpares.” He I was again talking with someone in my version of Spanish, so obviously deficienat they were replying in English and I didn’t even notice. This is central america. I could have bought one pill.
A little more hanging about at the shop then time for…. yes! another walk. Two big black guys sitting on a log next to a pile of poles. The one asked me if I wanted to go fishing. We talked for 15 minutes, about wahoo and dolphin, black fin tuna, yellow tails, fish which are sought in these waters but nowhere near as prevalent as they are on the other side of this isthmus, in the Pacific. Strange, this time I noticed no Creole, no ???? Jamaican, just like to talking to some guy from middle America. For the Caribbean coast this struck me as unusual. But really, $250 USD for half a day of fishing 5 minutes off shore, no I’ll go to Pixvae in Panama or some place equally off the beaten path, where there is one satellite pay phone and the electricity only runs from six to ten at night. This was just to mainstreamm for me. Down to the other end of town, past the end of the road sign, past the place where the home made submarine is on display, where for a thousand dollars you can descend to 2000 feet and look at the marine life.
Back into town to the other end of town a few pictures of the sunset, a guy staying at ??? rushing out behind me with his camera, could I take a picture of him? Sure, here ya go, that looks better than the sunset, I changed your camera to program mode and your scene to sunset, and shut down the aperature to get you and the horizon in sharp focus, you might want to reset your camera to all it’s default setting. “You looked like you knew what you were doing.” It’s all an illusion. “Wow, thanks.” We chatted, he is on his way over to Copan, then down to Costa Rica and Panama. Had I ever been there? “Yeah I could tell you a thing or two, probably two hundred blog entries on those countries alone.” How long have you been traveling? For thirty years, this trip is in its fifteenth month. I am a little tired of that tale, besides, people would rather talk about themselves. He had a great dive today a dozen eight foot sharks in a feeding frenzy.
Ok, something else to add to my list of things to do while I am here. “You going to the poker game?” I asked, oh, yeah, right after I use the internet? How is the connection? “Ok, enough” “You can check your email and update Facebook but you can’t watch youtube?” “Exactly.” Later.
Back to Reef runners with my notebook I sat at the bar with my notebook, a club soda and half a lime please. People started filing in. “Mandy I’ll have the curry.” “Coming up.” “Mandy, fish please.” “ok.” “May I have some fish?” “We only have curried chicken tonight.” “I’ll have that.” “An order of fish?” “We don’t have any.” I don’t know when she decided whether or not they had fish but chicken was available for all. With my 100 limpare buy in for the poker game my bill came to 260 Limpare, about fourteen bucks.
The guy next to me asked when I would stop serving food if the poker game started at seven. I replied that I had long ago given up going to foreign countries and telling them how I would run the place. He laughed boisterously, “Marko.” He was decidedly American, the whole place was filled with expats, many of them owners and operators of competing shops. They had all come together for a night of low stakes Texas Hold ’em. We went upstairs, drew cards and split ourselves into two tables of eight each. I made it down to the final five I think, after being on the edge three times, going all in and winning substantial hands when I had not enough money to bet after the big blind.
One pretty woman sat high on a rail on the back taking it all in, maybe she was fetching drink orders, she was fetching but as much so as the blonde at the end of our table who kept our game in line, made sure everybody bet in turn, the correct amount. Every fifteen minutes the blinds doubled. What started as a 20 “dollar” big blind became 640. We were down to eight players the tables merged, introductions were made and the play resumed. At one point a player thought I had missed him in a deal, took a card from the player to his left, by the time I had gotten around the table the old man on the end said he had three cards I had blown the deal. WTF? that is the card that the guy who thought he was missed was supposed to get. The German next to me insisted that I be fined the amount of the big blind in accordance with the rules. Marco, said that it should be ignored, nobody needed to know. I really couldn’t have cared a whole lot less. This went on for ten minutes. Marco called out “What kind of a German are you? You can’t even make sour kraut.” A guy next to him said, “German’s don’t dance they march.” Oh, man, c’mon guys this is a five dollar game obviously this is over something else. From below at the bar somebody said, “My tongue is bigger than your dick.” If that’s the rule, I’ll put my money in, I don’t care.
Five minutes later, the German put his cards below the table. Marco insisted that he ante up a big blind? For what? Said the German putting his cards on this lap? Now it is two. Oh this is absurd, do you think I was cheating? Mark said, “Mr. Guatemala” wasn’t cheating when he misdealt. Everybody insisted that he put in two blinds. “If that’s the way you are going to be, I won’t come.” Nobody raised an objection. I am glad I lost my hand. Now I was out of the game. The German dealt. He dealt me in. I said “I am not in, I just went all in and you took all my money, it was just a misdeal that’s all.” Now the voices starting raising higher, I grabbed my stuff and said, I’m sure I’ll see all of you somewhere tomorrow, hope you each make it to morning and went downstairs to mingle with the other losers.
Jonathan Allen LaFleur