After another black starless night of running to the throne (read previous post), this time under tempered winds and thick drops of rain, we woke up late. We were supposed to be at Dolphin’s Dive Shop at 830 for the first dive. The sun and the chickens were already out, Derek’s two kids were playing and somewhere nearby someone was chopping coconuts with a machete. The waves were breaking and the ocean was breathing a mellow breeze. Ahhh, the soundtrack of paradise made you feel lazy and getting out of bed became tough. I was feeling much better. It was 815 in the morning and we weren’t going to make it to the dive shop on time; crossing that jungle was going to take at least a half hour, walking at regular speed but I was in no shape to walk at regular speed. Since we knew we were not going to make it to the first dive trip, we sat down and ate toast, pineapples, passion fruit juice and scrambled eggs. After hanging out and making small talk with Derek and Anna, we got ready to our trek across the jungle. We applied bug repellent lotion like it was moisturizing or sun tan lotion because we didn’t want to be shredded to pieces again.

We started on the trail yet again, and yet again we walked by the shacks and saw kids working the land. The poverty of the island took from this paradise that feeling that life is easy going here. It set in the harsh realities of the indigenous of the land, those that have inherited a paradise for tourists, those with the dollar, the euro, but not for their own children. They live in rusty tin shacks that are the size of two cubicles put together. Others live in rotten-wood homes. Most of the local, however, live in decent and very modest homes. I still cannot understand why there are more foreign business owners than native born. It’s as if the natives are being robbed out of their own land. Acre by acre, the land and businesses are going to more and more blue-eyed blondes paying 30 silver dollars at a time. But that’s capitalism and it’s fine, I just wish that I had seen more local business owners.

Anyways, when we reached the dive shop, the first divers had just returned from the first trip. “We saw dolphins!” they exclaimed. Ouch! The heartache! “They were playing, coming back and forth, about 10 feet from us!” they said in jubilance. They kept on talking about how fantastic it was and with each sentence, with each laughter, they were adding weight to my already sinking optimism that I would have the same chance. I knew that we weren’t going to go diving at the same spot. Talk about disappointment. Talk about regret! “I shouldn’t have eaten that fruit,” is all I kept thinking.

We got suited and climbed the boat. The bumping of the sea was making sick again. This was going to be our first dive in the open ocean so we were filled with excitement and anticipation. When we got to our destination spot, we sat on the edge of the boat and leaped backwards. And there, we went under listening to the Darth Vader breathing, wide eyed, watching hands signals and looking out for whatever may be lurking, camouflaged in the sand. The dive master that certified us always told us to be careful when going to the bottom of the sea, as there are creatures that use sand for cover, so stepping in the sand could be dangerous. Sure enough, as soon as we got to the bottom, some 35 feet below, the dive master was giving us the hand signal to watch out below, as there was a sting ray hidden in the sand. All you could see were two eyes and a menacing barb. Monica was paranoid of getting too close because she remembered Steve Irwin, the crocodile hunter who got killed when a stingray’s barb pierced his heart.

As soon as we dropped in the water, we were about to step on this stingray.

I got very close to this stingray and then reality shivered down my spine as I realize that this animal could kill me. We established buoyancy at another spot in the sand once we made sure there was no other danger of getting killed. Well, let me rephrase that, I established buoyancy. Monica, well, let’s just say that Michael, the dive master who certified us, wouldn’t have been proud. Actually, he would have cringe at how Monica was all over the place. She was floating up and down, swimming like a mermaid in distress, swinging her arms like a drowning man. I don’t know what happened, but there was no grace in her diving abilities. She was like an octopus fleeing from a vicious prey. Most of the time she was doing the “Running man” underwater rather than swimming horizontally.

One of the few moments when Monica was diving as she should, horizontally.

About five minutes into the dive, the dive master took us into a coral reef that was populated with an assortment of fish. And then I saw a shark. Then another. The dive master pointed it out to us and it swam by us and away from us. I scrambled for my camera, but couldn’t get it to work properly so I was only able to take the picture below. I tried to follow it, but it was too fast.

Our first Shark sighting. It swam away from us quickly.

A puffing fish, not puffed.

One of the really cool underwater plants.

A beautiful, majestic green eel. It had a beautiful green color. I got really close to take this pic.

The Green Moray Eel kept hiding and coming out. It had a menacing look, but it was beautiful.

A school of colorful fish

And now, for the main show: Scuba Diving in Little Corn Island Part I
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After both of our dives, we were naturally tired. We were dreading the long walk back to Derek’s Place. Yet again we had to cross the jungle, and yet again we got lost. We started fine, tracing back our steps until we realized that we had been walking for over a half hour and we still hadn’t reached Derek’s Place. We couldn’t even hear any beach nearby, so I knew that we were still somewhere in the middle of the jungle. Then I realized that we weren’t the only ones lost. There was a cow that was walking by that was also lost. After another half hour of walking in what may have been circles and zig zags we made it to Peace Love Farm. I am pretty sure that, based on the name, this farm was owned by pot smoking hippies. I had heard that it was a very nice place, but we must have gone there on the wrong day. It was muddy, dirty and stinky. And it seemed desolate. There was no one around except a maid who didn’t know anything we asked regarding the place. We asked if they rented horses, “I don’t know,” she would answer. How much are the rooms? “I don’t know.” How do we get to Derek’s Place? “I don’t know.” We did know however, that Derek’s Place was somewhere near, so we did what we had done before and had helped out: we walked by the beach and had another impromptu stroll by the beach as the sun was setting somewhere on the other side of the island. When we got there, we passed out again. We were awakened when Anna was asking us if we wanted to have dinner. We told her that we did want to (because we really had no choice). We got up and by this time it was dark. We grabbed a flashlight and went to take a bath in the open air shower enclosure. Dinner was served, but again, it wasn’t anything memorable. Soon, we were back in our love shack and were fast asleep as we could hear the winds picking up and rain coming in.