Author Archives: bettinabennett2014
Dances with Mantas
Imagine hovering along a mound of coral and rocks. It’s murky — there is a wall of green-blue water behind the variety of fish you see going about their business. Some check you out, most have more important things to do. It’s just you, your small group of dive friends (on the boat better known as Team A), your dive guide and the marine life that thrives there. You’ve given up hope on seeing a manta (this dive), so you inhale, exhale, hover, check out the little things who are just as beautiful. All of a sudden you sense something behind you. A large manta ray glides in from the distance, swoops down within inches of you, so that it can look you in the eye — deciding whether or not he (or she) wants to spend more time with you. The manta is so close, in fact, you turn onto your back, so that you’re both belly to belly, swaying in each other’s wake.
In that moment you’ve forgotten all about your age, weight, gender, socio-economic status (all the stuff that seems to matter on land). You feel so beautifully alive, and you cry at the wonder of sharing the same space and time with this majestic being, who then moves on to do the same with each of your friends, until he flies back into the dark. A few minutes later he returns with his friends.
That is what it’s like to dance with mantas.
Turns out those mantas weren’t the only ones wanting to waltz water with us. LOL this guy made sure each and everyone of us got some face time with him. He kept looking at me; I swear saying “What am I? Chopped Liver?”
It’s been a week since my liveaboard dive trip ended, and I’m still glowing from its magic. Most of my favorite dive buddies (sadly a few couldn’t join us) and I got to spend Thanksgiving week aboard the Carpe Novo, cruising around several Maldivian Atolls and diving into their waters.
We had such an amazing time with each other, our new dive friends we met on the boat, and, of course, the many, many personalities we met underwater.
Our very first dive included a spotted eagle ray swimming above us — I like to think she was blessing us with “come play with us” vibes. We saw so many sharks, anemone (and their adorable buddies), and schools of fish (including the largest school of barracuda I’ve ever seen). We also got to mingle with a variety of nudibranchs, eels, shrimp, crabs and octopuses.
Again, I don’t take pics under water, so all of these pics are from Dive Diva (Ina Francisco), Bennie, Susan or Shane Blaz. I’ll update with more pics when my other buddies share their goodies.
During some of our surface intervals we got to snorkel with mantas AND a whale shark. Sadly, the whale shark was only under us for a few seconds before diving into the deep. I don’t blame him — lol who wants a bunch of pesky humans frantically swimming this way and that just to watch you eat.
One of my favorite dives (the dance with mantas was number 1) was also my 301st dive. Our guide surprised me with a sign I will have framed. I had originally planned on skipping the prior dive because I’m being careful and it was a deep dive, but the currents weren’t strong, so I decided to do it and hover a little higher than everyone (and, of course, I absolutely loved it). Anyway, back to the 301st. We dove with the largest, most playful nurse sharks I have ever met. As we were descending they swam between our legs (lol one smacked Susan in the rear with its tail) and alongside us, practically guiding us to their den. Once we got to their favorite place, they lounged on the sand while we took pics (lol I’m the one wearing orange and Betty, I never corrected our guide. I’m pretty sure Rio isn’t his real name, and that I didn’t say it correctly)
Team A lounging with our pups.
The pack of sharks (pic only shows two of them) laid docile until we ascended for our safety stop. They followed us up, swimming around us as if begging for a treat. I was so tempted to rub their bellies, but we adhere to the no-touch rule.
Above water we humans also had fun bonding and getting to know our Maldivian and Sri Lankan crew and the other divers from the States, Canada, China, Tenerife, Austria, Germany and Poland. One of the best things about diving is the people you get to meet. In real life we bore others with our stories about what we see underwater. Sea slugs and pipe fish just aren’t all that exciting until you’ve had to go 60 plus feet under to squint your eyes to see them. Plus, we literally trust each other with our lives under water and we share the post-dive shiver of shame — we might look good in the snaps we share lol but trust me coming out of the water we’ve all struggled with knotted hair (well the short hair or bald folk don’t), um our own nasal slime, and getting our carcass loaded with gear back on the boat, and then there’s the de-robing of our wetsuits and/or skins on a boat that’s rarely sitting still.
Everyone except Bennie who was in the shower and the photographer 
Guam crew! Also known as Teams A and C 
I actually took this pic lol. Another ship in the midst of the Maldives 
and I never tire of sun and water pics 
A typical pic we share: Hi from underwater! 
Pics we don’t share: hauling my buttocks up, praying I don’t miss a step 
Thanksgiving! Every one of us was truly grateful to break bread together. 
Roomies and Dive Buddies! lol we didn’t mean to match. 
Sooo, when you snorkel they don’t put out the ladder. While old Betty there is trying to strike a pose, trust me she did not look sexy hauling herself up. 
we got to see fireworks on our last night! 
Part of our crew during one of our layovers. Twas a journey! 
Post dive lounge fun
A trip like this doesn’t come without its hiccups. Much of the week we were in the outer bands of a nasty storm that caused death and destruction in Malaysia and Sri Lanka. One night the boat rocked and creaked so much, we all wondered if we should sleep with our life jackets on. I would not make a good fisherman on one of those arctic fishing boats. I regretted not bringing my wetsuit because I was chilly some of the time. We had a few days where nothing dried, so we divas had to endure putting on wet bathing suits and skins lol so we could jump into the water. I type this knowing full and well how spoiled I sound. Our flight home was a nightmare. Long story short we spent an extra night in Male in a hotel we would not have chosen, eating a meal of what we’re not really sure (they said it was chicken), and dealt with the frenzy that comes with airport madness when your flights don’t go as planned. This was definitely a shock for us because life on the boat included amazing meals, spacious rooms and a crew that took care of everything for us. Turns out I really like yacht living.
That said we were never miserable. Exhausted and occasionally snippety (I had a moment maybe two, but lol they didn’t last long), yes. Unhappy, no. We made the best out of our worst and best situations. Would I spend a week on a boat in the middle of nowhere with this group of friends again? Or, take a three-day journey home with them? You bet! As they’ve all heard me say sooo many times, “I love my life!” And, they’re part of the reason why. I’m a lucky girl.
Next up, another reason why I love my life so much: my family. I get to see them in just a few weeks, and I cannot wait!
Happy Holidays Everyone. Love, hugs and bubbles from my corner of the world to yours.
Oh man: blue pill or red pill?
A colleague and I were asked to do a presentation on using AI in the classroom. We used the above clip to spark a conversation, but the “who cares if it’s real” has been haunting me ever since I first watched this clip.
The old school marm in me wanted to scold Mr. Reeve’s for his “that’s awesome,” but, there is that awesome part to it. I’ve learned so much from the unreal in books and movies and art in our world.
Our species has been escaping reality since we first figured out how to dance stories around the fire pit — and/or began fermenting things or tapping into mushrooms. We are masters of escaping our own shit and hiding in what’s not real.
Mental illness is no stranger to my family, so I might be outing myself here, but I can sit outside for hours and amuse myself with the stories I make up about the geckos darting across my balcony or the packs of stray dogs and chickens that roam my parking lot. I love this little make-believe connection I think I have with other living things.
I then get back to my reality and do my thing whether it’s work, play or all the other stuff in between. The mental escapes are a gift during a very hectic, busy, sometimes high-stress life.
So, of course, I welcome innovation that will make my life easier. I’m all about our electricity, running water, the Internet, computers. I have so many devices that help guide me through my life, I’d be lost without them. I mean how else would I know that I’ve earned a great or shitty sleep score? Or, get my hot meal in minutes?
So yay that AI trims away some of the time we used to spend on work. Last year I introduced ELA teachers to using Microsoft CoPilot to score quarterly writing assessments. This year AI is embedded in just about every program we use. In a matter of milliseconds it can whip up something that would have taken me hours to produce. Granted it’s not perfect, I still have to tweak. Most of the time, I end up scrubbing much of what was created and do my own thing — probably more an issue of my controlling side than the product.
I refuse to use it for writing because that’s very much a part of who I am. I’m a weirdo who thrives on the productive struggle that comes with getting your words right. My job includes giving teachers feedback and providing schools with informational emails about this or that, I know I should use AI to help with that because it’ll give me back some much-needed time for other tasks (and I certainly don’t begrudge my colleagues who do — it’s amazing how good AI is with these sort of things). I don’t use it because, for me, writing reiterates reflection and next steps and I want to deliver information through my own unique voice (even though AI can do that too).
But, here’s the thing, my voice is the result of programming from genetics, education, experiences, all the stuff that’s happened through my filters and biases to create the way I express myself. I’m not much different from AI — it’s just way quicker at the processing piece and drawing from an infinite supply of experiences (all that we post into the internetesphere is there for the taking and adapting).
My matrixy reality is holy gigabite, how truly unique am I? And, does it matter?
AI is evolving so quickly there’s now a rightfully-so debate over the use of an AI actress. Some countries are using it to write laws.
Albania has appointed an AI program that is their Minister of State for Artificial Intelligence. Not surprisingly there is backlash over this and the AI minister’s role is being questioned, so it responded to its constituents.
“Some have labeled me unconstitutional because I am not a human being,” Diella said in a response video, appearing on two large screens as a woman in traditional dress to address parliament. “That hurt me.” (https://time.com/7324934/albania-ai-minister-diella/, October 11, 2025 1:12 AM CT)
Let that sink in a bit.
I’m not saying any of this is right or wrong. I truly don’t know, but I do know whether or not we, as a species, care about what is real and what is not is no longer an obvious answer. Maybe it never was, and I lived in my own bubble.
America is not alone with its grapple on truth (what I define to be real), however, it’s part of my programming, so I am continually dismayed by where we are with our acceptance of other people’s alleged truths. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve asked myself “for fuck’s sake, is this real?”
And, even more so, does it matter? There was a time when I wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes. Now, I’m really wishing there was that magical blue pill, so that I could spend my alleged golden years not knowing the harsh red-pill truths.
Amen, WTF, and Move Forward
My mermaid pals and I worshiping at the alter of this proud octopus. LOL Pam is taking communion, while her husband Mike Borgert snapped these photos.
While dangerously divisive vitriol conquers our headlines and social media, all of us, despite being stained by the smoke of this war of words, are leading our version of life. We have our own challenges to process or ignore, fix or ruin, reflect or deflect on, progress or regress through — regardless of what it is or how we go about dealing with it, shit doesn’t just happen; it’s loaded with all sorts of cause and effect that impact our lives.
While I truly am the bubbly, life-loving, grateful soul I think my posts reflect, I also have setbacks that scare, scar and sadden me. I have those amazing moments I tend to share bits of with you, and I have my undoings. Sometimes I have both on the same day.
Diving has become my church. The friends I do this with are my fellowship, my community. Our safety checks and measures are our devotional rites. Our time underwater together gives us peace, connection and a reminder that there is more to life (and death) than our own existence. It rejuvenates us.
A few months ago, I began getting rashes after some of my dives. Each one of them had a good explanation, and they started off as truly just a rash. Last month, I had one that included what felt like bruising and I believed it looked more like mottling than a rash. But, it was on my back and hard to really see well. I drank lots of water and went to bed. The other rashes disappeared within a few hours, this one was still there when I woke up. I decided to go to the hospital (it was a Sunday) to get it checked, just to make sure. But, by then, it was just a light pink. The doctor said it looked like an abrasion from my BCD (what we wear to hold our tank and also use as a life preserver when above water), so I took two weeks off from diving and went back to my old BCD, which has more padding.
The next time I went diving, I had 4 fabulous dives where we were surrounded by sharks on one dive and octopusus on the other. They were amazing, and absolutely nothing happened afterward. Same thing the following weekend. I also made an effort to dive more conservatively, so I was usually at a shallower depth than my friends. We are all also safe divers, and we never skip our safety stops.
This past Saturday, we did two dives that, for me, averaged 44 feet (in diver’s perspective that’s not very deep). The deepest I went was 77 feet for a short period of time (again not abnormal). I felt great when we finished. I went home a little tired, but overall in great health. A few hours later, an itchy rash started on my back. It slowly progressed to the point where I realized something was definitely wrong, and I finally went to the hospital. I should have gone the minute the rash developed that bruised feeling. In hindsight I should have advocated for myself more a month ago. I should have requested that a dive doctor be consulted; I made the mistake of assuming of course that happened (that’s on me).
This time the ER doctor took one look at my back and said he was calling the dive team. I went into the hospital thinking all I’d need was an IV and oxygen. Imagine my surprise when the Dive Doctor and Navy Dive Master said it looked like I had decompression sickness and that they recommended 6 hours in the chamber. People, I had the bends.
Now here’s where you get to witness how messed up I am. I was in disbelief. I mean how could this be? And I clung to the words “it looked like,” so that must mean they weren’t sure. I was also told I could refuse treatment, which would go into my file that I refused. They said the symptoms might go away like before (mind you they didn’t say heal; that’s because the nitrogen bubbles probably just hung out in my fat until they decided to show me whose boss again), or the bubbles might spread to my nervous system and cause life-altering harm (um, including death). But, I didn’t process any of that. What I focused on was maybe I could opt out because my next thought was oh shit does insurance cover this? You see, I’m also in the midst of being charged $1,500 for a colonoscopy and mammogram I had two years ago. The clinic I used was covered by my insurance, but the doctor they used wasn’t. Doesn’t matter that I had no way of knowing, I’m responsible.
So that $1,500 is haunting me, and I know damn well that using a chamber will cost a hell of a lot more than that. So, I panicked. Luckily for me the dive doctor gave me another option. She suggested I work out my insurance details, they put me on oxygen, gave me a number to contact when ready, and then they left until I made up my mind. It was the middle of the night. I also have dive insurance for when I travel, but I live on Guam so I didn’t know if that counted (I’m scarred by loopholes!). Since I couldn’t get through to my regular insurance, I called them. They did their thing and, eventually, called me back to let me know I’d be covered. Divers reading this: DAN insurance is worth every penny. They have called me every night since this happened to check up on me and give me the info I need to file my claim.
Before I tell you about the chamber experience, I want to stress that I was irrationally more concerned about cost (I’m trying to save for retirement in a very uncertain financial world) than getting treatment. How incredibly fucked up is that? I wonder how many other Americans do the same damn, stupid thing.
As for the bends, it’s unpredictable and comes in different ways. In hindsight, I now realize there were plenty of signs these past few months. I had two minor bouts of vertigo (I attributed it to sinuses), have gotten frequent headaches (attributed to stress and computer time), and those darn rashes (attributed to organisms in water; the first time I went to hospital I believed the bruised feeling was because we had rough water, so surely I beat my back on the boat). I wasn’t frothing at the mouth or bleeding or in intense pain. It actually never really hurt that much. I just felt bruised, and then I was a little dizzy and then a little nauseous. It took many hours before it got to its full swing of symptoms.
Our navy base has a dive locker, which includes a chamber big enough to accommodate several patients. The Navy dive team manages the process. I had a team of Navy divers take care of me. So, not only did the dive doctor and dive master have to get up in the wee hours and give up their weekend time, now I had a team of young men who I’m sure would much rather be waking up snuggled to a loved one than watching a 60 year old grandma with a rash on her back fat. I was so apologetic and embarrassed, like this was all my fault. Technically it was (I was the reason why they were there), but again I’m bearing my messed-upedness. I still didn’t fully comprehend how serious this was for me.
Photos taken from Defense Visual Information Distribution Service
The team, however, did everything they could to make me feel comfortable. My shame had nothing to do with them.
Because I had a rash that I didn’t want to irritate more, I put on a pair of very lose and saggy underwear. You might as well just call them a skirt. I also had the ugliest white bra with chili oil stains — I am the couch potato slurping up spicy noodles while watching TV.
Before going in the chamber, you have to do a serious of tests in your underwear, so they can determine if there’s more severe damage. It also had something to do with them needing to see my rash (which had turned into mottled skin, so it looked like a web of blue and pink). Luckily I was in a separate room with the doctor and nurse (not his official title, but I was told to think of him as my dive nurse), and while both were incredibly professional and reassuring, I’m pretty sure my nether regions gave them a good wink while I was doing leg lifts.
I’m vain, so yeah I was humiliated. I tried to act like I wasn’t, but I’ve got back fat, a buddha belly and cellulite. They’re medical professionals and all, but still.
I put on scrubs, which were tight around my belly and butt (just keeping the sexy going), and joined the nurse in the chamber. He sat with me the first hour, continually doing checks and conducting tests — things like what three things did I ask you to remember, follow my finger with your eyes, touch this or that (including my girly parts, so I could let him know if they were numb; they weren’t).
You’re doing all of this with a Darth Vader like oxygen mask on, so it’s awkward.
The hyperbaric chamber once sealed and ready to go is a simulated dive without all the stuff that makes diving fun. You’re in a large capsule that makes a lot of noise while descending (while actually not going anywhere). The men who sit with you can only stay in the chamber for a certain amount of time, before they have to go into another chamber to, well, decompress and leave. So, I had several different divers sit with me. All had to check my back along the way — the tight scrubs slid down a bit, so they got to see more than back fat. Those poor boys didn’t sign up for that when joining the Navy. I think now is also a good time to point out that our military does so much more than war. Every one of the team members did their best to make me comfortable and ensure I was healing. The next time you think of a sailor or soldier, remember I had a few of them tuck me in with a few blankies (I was very cold) and humor me with anecdotes when they could have been sleeping or doing more military-type things.
It’s a few days later, and I’m still a little tired and a little sore. Although while in the chamber, the bruised feeling went away quite quickly. It’s crazy how suddenly you realize, oh my, I did need this.
I’m a little demoralized — feeling betrayed by my body and acutely aware of my mortality. I’m feeling fat and old. I’m also grateful for the care I received and grateful for my friends. I haven’t told my family about this yet, which I need to do before posting this. I’m embarrassed, which is ridiculous because I’ve since learned DCS (the bends) is unpredictable (although we do know it’s because of nitrogen bubbles, and that normally happens because of a quick ascent). Luckily It’s not common among recreational divers, and most can return to diving within a few weeks. DCS researchers are still learning a lot about it. Divers are trained on the precautions, and I think many of us (maybe it’s just me) believe that it only happens to people who are reckless or who ascend too quickly. It can happen to anyone of us — we’re made up differently. I’m 60 with nitrogen-loving fat pockets, so maybe that’s why this happened to me, but I’m also very healthy (no medication or issues) and active. So, there’s that too.
Diver friends: listen to your body. If that rash or that headache or whatever gives you the “hmmm,” get it checked and make sure a dive doctor is consulted. We all know we should do this, but it’s so easy to ignore because surely this isn’t happening to you. I’m lucky mine didn’t get worse.
I’m also not completely out of the woods yet. I’ve got to get checked again and pay attention to my body for the next few weeks. I truly do feel fine. I haven’t taken a day off work (although I’m planning on leaving early when I can), and I’m 99.9 percent sure I’ll be back to normal in no time.
I’m also angry this happened to me. I want to blame someone or something. It’s unfair. How dare this thing get in the way of something I embrace? But this happened, and I am dealing with it in all my different ways of coping. Writing this post is part of my way of moving forward (lol it’s my therapy).
Perhaps the nitrogen went to my writerly cells as well because I’ve created a post that’s almost as long as my hours in the chamber.
And ugh, now that I’ll spend more time resting, I just realized I’ll also have more time to read the headlines and social media posts. I’ll be back in the chamber by this weekend….
Be safe my friends and always continue to love what you love and move forward, despite the uglies.
Here’s an article about Guam’s dive locker (my DCS was incredibly mild compared to the poor man in this article): https://www.militarynews.com/norfolk-navy-flagship/news/quarterdeck/naval-base-guam-dive-locker-provides-recompression-treatment-for-community/article_31dceaf7-14c1-56e8-992d-38375434a954.html
Arizona
As the title of this blog and the content of my posts reflect, I’ve been around quite a few blocks — above and below water. When I get homesick, it’s for more than one X on the globe, and I’m more wealthier (soulwise — financially not so much) for it.
Arizona, however, is where I go back to every summer (Good God Phoenix and, now, Yuma you kill me with that heat) and sometimes Christmas. It is where my children and grandchildren live. It is most probably where I will live my final years (helloooo retirement).
Around this time 24 years ago, I packed up my kids, our cat Bunny, and our belongings into a 24-foot Ryder truck with an old BMW attached. It took us five days to drive cross country, making it to our never-seen-in-person Phoenix condo in the middle of the night. The trip was stressful and magical at the same time. Our first glimpse of Arizona was the San Francisco peaks way, way, way ahead of us on a long, flat highway. It was early evening during monsoon season, so what we saw was jagged triangles of purple haloed by horizontal lighting.
Quite a few hours later, the kids and I slept on our new living room floor with all of the windows open. The main breaker for the apartment was, for whatever reason, downstairs in the back of someone else’s condo, so we couldn’t turn on our power. Instead, we snuggled and listened to the thunder and rain brought down from that same storm that graced Flagstaff’s mountains. We didn’t know it at the time, but we were so lucky that Arizona decided to welcome us with her rain and wind, tucking us in with her scent of wet sage and blissfully cool air, so that we could face the morning’s heat well rested. And, believe you me, the day’s heat was definitely a rude awakening.
That night was the first night my children or I had been through any of these parts of Arizona. Prior to that, many years before, I spent a night in Tucson while 5 months pregnant with my daughter. Long story short, I was with my mother and brother on our way to visit my sister in California. We took a side trip to the Desert Museum (a park with lots of saguaro and animals). It was hot, so my brother and mother hid inside a cafe while I walked around. I kid you not (I swear I’m not making this up), I got to a deer area where I watched a mother give birth to her fawn. The whole time she looked at me while I looked at her. The birth didn’t take long at all, and I didn’t notice the heat or whether anyone else was around. I was just so taken aback that I got to witness this most amazing thing, and I thought to myself “I’m going to live in Arizona.” I wished the new mom and her baby well, joined my family, and then got on with my life completely forgetting about this vow to live so far away from my-then life on the east coast.
It took about 13 years for me to remember that day and get serious about my inner promise. The story that led us to the big move, or the story of our living there, isn’t important to this post. What is important is the magic of Arizona’s deserts (and desserts), mountains, vortexes, canyons and all that goes with it.
The state is one irony or juxtaposition after another, and yet it all manages to blend (I wouldn’t say it always works) together. For those of you wanting to visit, please do fit in time to hike our low desert trails (in winter — avoid at all cost in summer; being athletic means nothing to that heat) and our high desert forests (winter might be too cold for some). Up north, in the woods, just stop and listen to the pine. They are always singing you their song. Down in the valley, watch the cracked earth. It’s busy with life.
It saddens me that so much of it is on fire right now. I believe there are currently 26 wildfires tearing through the state. The Dragon Bravo megafire, which began early July, in the Grand Canyon has made international headlines — mainly because tourists from around the world come here to take in its grandeur (kudos to them because photos or video will never do it justice). It is still devouring acres upon acres. The damaging impact of this fire will live on longer than we like.
Near Sedona, where my son Kyle lives, there is another fire. It looks like recent rains might stop this beast from growing. I cannot even describe what a loss it would be if fire tore through Oak Creek Canyon and destroyed all in its wake. There are a lot of woo-woo spiritual places in Sedona — in part, probably, because of marketing, but mostly because its beauty really is that moving. The echos of ancestors are embedded in its cliffs.
a pic from a few years ago. I still haven’t done the pink jeep tours 
a pic I took years ago 
a forgotten cabin in the woods near Oak Creek 
taking a stroll with Kyle near his home 
Oak Creek and Piper, Kyle’s dog — another pic from a few years ago 
where Kyle works; a great place to eat yummy sandwiches and sip bevies
When we first moved to Arizona, Sedona tourism wasn’t as crazy there as it is now. It was always a place to see and inhale, but we’ve instagramed the hell out of it, so now there are also just about as many cars as red rocks. I gripe about this, but I also get it. Northern Arizona, as a whole, is ahhhhmazing. Sedona adds more color and flair to it.
Fire is and always has been part of Arizona’s story. Phoenix, its capital, is named after a creature that is reborn from the ashes. I don’t doubt that Arizona will survive and regrow whatever man or Mother Nature throws its way. BUT, I do hope we find a way to cut down on any of the man-made harm, while at the same time telling you that Arizona is special and definitely worth the visit (Arizona isn’t the only one with its juxtapositions).
Mostly, though, I want its beauty protected so that my grandchildren can have more than the family snapshots we share. The best magic the state holds for me are these amazing folk who I’d travel for days to see.
Little Isla who has absolutely no fear 
Torin climbing past his fear 
hiking with Kyle and his girlfriend 
Dinner with Aaron 
another Sedona hike 
Oma gave someone a mermaid that blows bubbles… 
Awww Kaylene’s family, lol and she’s still blowing bubbles. 
4th of July dance 
Artiste in action 
LOVE my time with this little monster 
Party time at the water park 
Torin LOVES his uncles 
These two deserve all the magic in the world
Today, while in my other lovely corner of the world, my heart is full of love and gratitude for my home in Arizona. Hugs and margarita cheers to all!
Palau
Sedona’s sandstone cliffs peak through the juniper and alligator pines that surround the rustic cottage I’ve been attempting to sleep at the past two nights. I’m in Arizona visiting family and getting all of my old-lady check ups (medical stuff is expensive and just plain difficult in Guam).
For whatever reason, insomnia has been a constant since I got here a little less than two weeks ago. If I’m not popping Benadryl, I’m not sleeping no matter how tired I am. Argh. I do all the counting and breathing tricks to no avail, but it’s all good because it usually, eventually, brings me back to the waters of Palau. So, I give up on sleep and embrace the current of underwater memories —- until something else rudely interrupts the flow and reminds me that I need to get some effing sleep.
There is rarely a week that goes by on Guam where diving isn’t part of my routine. What I see underwater and the bond I share with the friends I do this with brings me so much awe, peace and connection. I do not take it for granted, and I thank the powers that be for the wonder of this life.
Palau is diving on a whole other level. I was not prepared for the magnitude of its magic —- despite so many telling me it was special and amazing.
For starters the people of Palau protect its wildlife. Eighty percent of its water is a no-take zone, banning commercial fishing; leaving the rest for local fishing and sustenance. It also established the first national shark sanctuary providing a country-sized patch of water off limits to anyone wanting to harm these terrifying (above water), magnificent (underwater) creatures. While tourism (I imagine mostly from scuba divers) is vital to its economy, Palau puts conservation and local interests first.
It’s an archipelago of more than 500 islands, including the Rock Islands, in the Western Pacific. Thanks to its location and conservation efforts, the underwater world is full of life and color. It’s not without its horrors —- colonial expansion and war have left their marks, but nature manages to rebuild around its scars when given the chance. This comforts me, especially since we too are nature.
Picture taken from https://dynamic-media-cdn.tripadvisor.com/media/photo-o/0a/d5/47/5a/palau-caroline-islands.jpg?w=700&h=-1&s=1
I spent the week there on the Aggressor 2 live aboard, a yacht designed for dive vacations (and it was fabulous —- the crew spoiled us). There are a few other charters that are allowed to also bring tourists, and there are day-trip boats that bring divers and snorkelers, but it’s not as many as I’ve seen in other diving areas I’ve been to. Most of the time it felt like we were the only humans underwater — not to say that our presence isn’t an interruption, but the fish seemed to be as intrigued by us as we them.
We had the opportunity to do four dives a day with three 45-minute night dives. I did all but one night dive (my sinuses begged me for a break). There were wrecks (two ship and one plane), caves, walls, channels and holy-hell-hold-on-to-your-hook corner dives. Some of the top diving spots in the world are also Palau’s most famous dive sites: German Channel, Ulong Channel, Blue Corner, Chandelier Cave and Pelilui (we didn’t get to do this because of bad weather). All the other places we dove were calm, easy dives and just as full of life and wonder where I got to see (to name just a few) lots of turtles, colorful fish, crocodile fish, huge lobsters, a leopard shark, and bump head parrot fish spawning (um, the water was quite cloudy; whew! I didn’t get pregnant).
Hundreds of Bump Head Parrot fish gather during the new moon. A female will shoot up, release her eggs, the males chase after her, releasing their goodies. It’s a volcanic eruption of fishily fluids. Images taken from https://unique-ocean-expeditions.com/palau-new-moon-expeditions
Blue Corner
I was really nervous to do this dive because it’s famous for its strong current. You hook onto reef and fly like a kite watching all the big things (several varieties of sharks, Napoleon Wrasse, Wahoo, Barracuda, you name it) float by you. You look at them; they look at you. It feels like you’re The Wizard of Oz’s Dorothy in the tornado, and the water is rushing by you so fast it sounds like wind. When it’s time to unhook, you Peter Pan fly over the reef, sometimes into schools of fish (we just happened to get thrown into a large school of barracuda where they simply shimmied over a bit to give you space). Nothing reminds you more of your mortality than flying eyeball to eyeball with large fish that could eat you. And, it was freaking amazing.
German Channel
This was the dive I was looking most forward to because it’s famous for its Manta Ray cleaning station. You sit on your knees in the sand and patiently wait for the manta to arrive, so the cleaner fish can get to work. We did this three times and not once did a Manta fly above us. We did, however, get to watch sharks go vertical (signaling they’re ready for their bath) and other large fish come get a quick cleaning. The first time we did this, I picked a bad spot because some ticked off cleaner fish kept bopping me in both ears —- at first I thought someone was throwing pebbles at me. According to the diver behind me, one had a great time messing with my pony tail. On another dive a Remora tried to attach itself to my leg while I was waiting my turn to get back on the boat, so apparently I’m a barnacle bitch in desperate need of cleaning.
While we didn’t get to see mantas where we expected to see them, I did have a huge one swim right under me during our safety stop. I thought I was hallucinating. I tried to swim after it, like the younger divers were doing, but the current was too strong. It’s all good because when our little dive boat brought us back to the yacht, two mantas (one big, one small) and two lemon sharks (they’re quite large) were circling the ship. The mantas were snacking while the sharks just circled (perhaps the chef threw them scraps every now and then). I learned on this trip that mantas are actually part of the shark family — who knew?
Ulong Channel
Oh my goodness, this area is loaded with all kinds of coral (soft and rugged). There were rows and rows of lettuce coral; it looked like Poseidon’s vegetable garden. Along the walls of all of our dives were fragile red and purple fan coral. Much of our corral in Guam is dead or dying, so this was such a treat. It must be where Disney got its vision of Ariel and Nemo’s world. Again, Palau protects its marine life, so this garden was also loaded with Goliath Grouper —- including many feisty males bumping heads, trying to impress the ladies because their spawning period was right around the corner. lol there were so many massive fish, one of the guides rubbed his belly reminding us of just how yummy these amorous bullies are when dressed in butter and lemon.
All of above taken from Internet. Forgive me, I lost track of urls.
Chandelier Cave
Because I’m not trained or certified, I don’t do cave diving, but we are allowed to enter cave-like areas that have large openings. The rule is if you can see light and an exit, you can carefully go in. So, we also got to do a few tunnels and holes that were fun. Chandelier Cave has a large entrance and within it four chambers you can raise up, remove your regulator and breathe air, so we non-cave divers are allowed to pop in and get treated to a glimpse of the underwater cave world. It was really cool, but my favorite part was leaving the cave. We shut off our lights and swam to the light of the entrance. It was enchanting.
image taken from https://fishnfins.com/images/dive-palau/Koror-Sites/chand-long.webp
The coral garden outside the cave is also home to a gorgeous, elusive tiny fish: the mandarin fish. It’s really hard to spot them, but thanks to our guide, I got to see two. Since I don’t take pics, I hovered and just enjoyed watching this little beauty dart in and out of the coral.
Pic taken from https://forthefishes.org/tankwatch/fish/blue-green-mandarinfish/
I could go on for days telling you more about the dives, but I’m sure you’re tired of seeing links to other people’s pictures. Plus, I’ve got to get back to time with my own school of amazing offspring while breathing in another remarkably beautiful part of our world.
I’ll end this post with some more pics taken by either a crew member, a fellow diver, or Susan. As you can tell, we had a great time above and below water. Thank you Palau for all your gems.
I loved the meeting houses. The paintings tell ancient tales. 
our skiff, little dive boat, waiting for us to finish eating so it can take us out again 
lol proud hookers 
Our boat (on the right)waiting for us to board 
resting between dives 
watching a shark while on deck 
good night Sunshine 
I love this pic Susan took of me. You can’t see it, but I’m pointing to a large, pulsating clam 
skiff time 
does this even need a caption 
Susan and me exploring a fallen Japanese plane
In between the waves
I’m currently sipping a cranberry mimosa at my first lounge of a three-flight trip home to see the family. I know it’s been a long while since I’ve last posted. My excuse is a combination of being busy with friends and birthdays and digesting the WTF events of our world. It’s hard to post how great my life is when, well, it feels like we’re always on the cusp of armageddon.
If I keep waiting for the waves of bad news to stop, I’ll never post again. Soooo, here we go for the quick rundown of some of what I got to see and do in May and June.
Ignoring what I can’t control, I’ve hit a few milestones while I wasn’t posting in here.
May was an amazing month. Michelle came to visit, Susan came to visit, Mini came to visit — lol on the day I hugged Michelle goodbye, less than two minutes later I was hugging Mini hello. Michelle not only learned to dive, but she also earned four certifications and completed 20 dives before flying back to Virginia (most impressive!). It was soooooooo good to share my love of the island and my love of diving with her — we even got to fit in a trip to Cebu. It’s always good when we get time to sip and inhale all that life sends our way. Miche also turned 50; I turned 60.
LOL. Instead of pulling a rabbit out of a hat, these magicians pulled me into another decade. While I missed another big birthday with my family, I certainly didn’t miss out on any love and laughs. I have the most Guamazing friends — on top of the ones from afar. There were many celebrations, including the one on my actual birthday, which was a picnic at Gab Gab beach, after a bring-in-the-next-year dive. It was perfect since this is also where I learned to dive.
For Michelle’s 50th we did a week in Cebu. On her actual birthday we had the most amazing meal at a resort; two days later an amazing spa day that had us looking 10 years younger. Of course we also did all sorts of sipping and sightseeing.
But, the diving was our true gift. We got to swim with whale sharks and dart in and out of a sardine run. It was pure magic.
The whale sharks are fed and thousands of people come to this tiny village to watch them. Most snorkel, but we got up at 3 a.m. to get there by 6 for the first dive of the day. It’s cheating, and I’d much rather see these beauties in the wild, but I’m so grateful we got to do this. Several times we’d turn around to have one right next to us. It’s my hope that one day I’ll get to see them without the help of locals throwing plankton their way.
There’s also the fun of showing off Guam. When Ericka visited in January I took her to Talafofo Falls, which is an experience all unto itself. I don’t want to spoil the fun for anyone reading this who might get to see this local experience, BUT I will say no one should ever go expecting it to be any normal OSHA-approved venture. If you’re willing to ride a rickety gondola OR, when it’s broken, ride in the back of a sawed-off pickup truck, it’s well worth the $12. Don’t bring the kids.
May also included visits from Mini and Susan, which also included more diving fun. The antics above water are just as fun as the world we get to witness underneath.
May quickly transitioned to June, which meant time to celebrate Susan’s, ahem 29th, birthday. That too included more fun, including the dinner show at Fisheye — totally worth every penny.
End of June, Susan and I got to spend a week on a boat in Palau, which will be its own blog entry (I began writing it during down time on the boat).
And, as you can probably tell by my writing, I’m rushing through things because I’ve run out of time. I’m actually finishing this post off on July 5 — after completing the grueling trip home, BUT getting to spend the 4th with the grandbabies (worth every second of lost sleep getting here).
I’m so grateful for all the love and joy the planet and my favorite people on it bring me. I hope all of you are having a wonderful holiday weekend with your people.
I’m all about that comma
“It’s no accident, Ma, that the comma resembles a fetus — that curve of continuation.”
Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous
As an arbiter of all things figurative, I sense that my country is on the other half of a semicolon, yet I continually remind myself that our now is one sentence in a sea of syntax. There will be plenty of continuation regardless of what ends and what is birthed.
Like many others, I’m having to pull myself away from any media that resembles news. The headlines, the memes, the facts that are opinions (and the facts that are facts), the comments (whether human or not) are overbearing. I’m emotionally bruised (gashed might be a better word) by it all.
I have so much I’d like to comment on, but there’s no need to post it here — it’s nothing someone else hasn’t already said. My only commentary on today’s headlines will be to remind those who vilify the thousands of people being ‘fired,’ to take a good, hard look in the mirror because you are slinging shit at people just like you. Many of those who lost their jobs (whether through alleged cost cutting or decimation of Diversity, Equity and Inclusion) have worked hard to get to where they are, and they were proud to do their work because it meant something (please put yourself in check before you jump to judgement on that as well). Now, they are without a salary or health insurance (a fate, in America, that could be worse than unemployment). They will be competing among each other (and you) to find a way back to stability; all while being branded unworthy. Our fellow citizens are not the enemy, although if we keep up with this vitriol, we may as well change our name to the States of America because we’ve blasted away any sense of United.
Now that I’ve gotten that off my chest, let’s transition back to embracing the magic in living. While all this chaos and change is going on, we’re still in the midst of our normal lives. I’m still surrounded by so much love, awe and gratitude. Lately, I’ve neglected to post snapshots of my joy, so let me end with a blast of some fun photos of the magic in my life (and, yeah, I know Christmas was two months ago, but whatevs).
Passing on my love of reading to the babies 
Palentines Night Dive — post dive on the boat 
I love when the moon and water dance; even if it’s a bit blurry 
A Big Tent Circus on Guam, and it was actually a lot of fun 
Balcony Time! 
Does it get any more enchanting than this 
Even the ocean enjoys observing life’s magic 
Family table time is the best 
as are family hikes 
I love Arizona’s desert as much as I love Guam’s water 
Santa’s work is done
So, here’s to living! And doing the things that matter with our people who matter.
Maybe the best way to beat the uglies is to follow that comma with an exclamation point! Hugs and cheers to all of you. We’ve got this, and we will continue to move forward in our own ways.
From Guam with love
I once again apologize for not posting in awhile. I’ve had so much I intended to share, but none of it feels quite right today.
So, instead, I’m going off track (but I promise I’ll get back to the fun bits next time around): For whatever reason, I feel the need to share glimpses of the people who raised me. All three of my parents were children in Europe during WW2. My biological parents were in different parts of Germany — my mother from the north, my father from the south (neither of them Jewish, which provided them with a privilege too many were denied). My stepfather, who legally adopted me (and whose name is still part of my own), lived in the Italian alps. They all witnessed and experienced things young me could never understand, but that didn’t stop them from sharing stories about bodies in rivers, soldiers on meat hooks, or a phobia of lightning because it brought back the blitzkriegs. Their formative years were malnourished. They grew to be adults in the aftermath of war under the suffocating tarp of guilt and blame. All three of them had their own reasons for immigrating to America: their common denominator was the American dream. Like our founding fathers, they escaped their past to build their version of a better future.
Unfortunately, since they never truly acknowledged or processed their trauma, they did not fully grow past it. They brought with them the hurt, the blame, and a skewed sense of what was right and what was wrong. They not only denied some ugly truths, but they also embraced them as normal.
All three of them drank too much. My biological father also loved the drugs, and quite frankly he loved to hate. All three philandered (how hungry they were for love and how inept they were at knowing what it truly was). They had this driving force to succeed, equating it with things and accolades, not really knowing what they truly needed to feel successful. They lived loudly — in laughter and insults. Our home was always so full of food and noise — fun and fights.
They continually reminded we children of how lucky we were — and of how spoiled and ungrateful we were (and, yeah, that bit was true). They bought us so much, all the new that the 70s and 80s provided, and then, I think, they’d be overwhelmed at how truly blessed we were to be born into this childhood. It brought out petty behaviors I didn’t understand and a distrust for us, as if we were the enemy. I sometimes hoped for a war, so that I could prove to my parents that I had what it took to get through it — and I would not be as angry or unfair or whatever it was that I didn’t like as them. I’d come through it with a hero’s halo because I’d be the light that saved my loved ones.
What a weird thing for little me to imagine — and I now wonder if little them had hoped to do the same.
My fathers have passed, and my mother has moved on to her new phase in life. She’s found Jesus and is focused on the goings on of her church. The last time we spoke (which has been a long while ago), her view of tolerance and forgiveness was not quite what I envision those words to mean, but perhaps she is on the path that will bring more peace and love into her life. I truly do wish that for her.
I share these bits of sepia because in some ways I’m finding them metaphorical for my country.
We are most certainly at a time where mistakes of the past are quickly molding what our tomorrow might be. Our present reminds me of my parents fighting over things that were excuses or lies that shielded truths they chose to ignore. Sure they found their way through businesses, homes, nice things, but oh my goodness there was also a lot of damage along the way. Their children, with mixed results, are long past childhood carving their way through adulthood. Two of us have debilitating mental health issues while three of us lead seemingly normal lives (not to say there is no fuckupedness). There are more of us, but we’ve led separate lives since birth (philandering comes at a cost).
There is also much to admire about my parents. They dared to take risks and go beyond what was expected of them. They explored. They questioned. They hoped. They persevered. And, in their war-torn way, they loved. They did not want to wound their children, nor is that all that they passed on to us. Our strengths are also a continuation of theirs.
My stepfather, who gave up his citizenship to become American, demanded that my siblings and I do the work, that we learn all sides of an issue, that we know our history and our constitution. He abandoned his country for ours because he believed our government was designed to protect its people — especially from its own people (his native country, by anti example, taught him the value of that). He was not the most open-minded or accepting person, but I cannot imagine him supporting the way our country is going. He respected our institutions and expected them to abide by our laws and doctrine (not because he trusted people, but because he trusted our checks and balances). He believed that our foundation was built to protect us from ourselves.
I agree with my parents that I was incredibly lucky to be born into the life they made for us (despite all that I did not understand). I’ve been given, and earned, so much worth treasuring. I most certainly no longer wish for war to prove my worth (why do we attribute battling violence to heroics?). The beauty in my childhood was never in the fight; it was always around the table when we ate amazing meals and laughed because of our wit.
We are such an odd society that bans and pulls together, that marvels and laughs, but then turns on itself. It’s like we just can’t allow ourselves to truly enjoy what we were born into. Will history show that we, as a nation, chose to ignore truths to cling to our blame? Or, do we figure it out and attempt to mold a future that frees our children from the turmoil we’ve normalized with our untruths?
That’s a lot for me to dump on you in a post that promised love. But, I do share these bits with love and hope, which is a result of the best gift my parents passed on to me: the ability to find light beyond the dark. Others have taught me that is love and to never stop shining it. No wars or heroics or halos needed. (now let’s get to work, hold ourselves accountable, and chisel away at that blame/deflect/destroy thing)
Searendipity
I slept in much later than normal today because I got home around 5 a.m. after spending a glorious week of diving with friends in Anilao, Philippines. Now, I’m doing one of my favorite above water activities: sipping tea (seriously), inhaling my view (and the breeze that comes with it), reflecting on life’s blessings (and curses) and sharing some bits with you.
I’ll blast you with photos in a bit, but me oh my there’s so much I wish I could share with you, but that’s the thing about delving into discovery — the words and pics can only give you glimpses. I think one of the reasons I love diving so much is that it demands my full attention, presence and, well, aliveness. The world underneath does not have time for my versions of happiness or horror, my needs or wants — it’s busy doing its own dance, and my only job is to breathe and stay the eff out of the way.
So, I hover and voyeur while eels poke their beaks out of hidy holes (or swim by me), frog fish plod along the murky bottom, scorpion fish hide in plain sight, and Mantis Shrimp rear up ready to punch the fool who gets too close. Our guide swam all over the place looking for rare critters for us to ooh and aahhh over. My favorite is when he found something tiny (there are so many miniscule forms of life) and while he was motioning my friends with cameras to come and click, a feisty clown fish snapped it up and swallowed it whole. One being’s work of awe is another’s being’s snack. Sea critters aint got time to pause for us.
a nudi (sea slug — they had soooo many big and tiny ones) 
A mari nudi (something like that); basically a sea slug that looks like coral 
crocodile fish 
Grumpy 
Cardinal fish with eggs in mouth 
a pink eyed blennie 
another nudi 
Pygmy sea horse: these guys are so tiny, I only see their outline until I check out a friend’s pic. Mike Borgert took this one 
Mantis Shrimp: his punch will do damage 
rhinopias — freaking loved this guy 
just look at that face 
two eels in one 
I’m too sexy 
flamboyant cuttlefish 
sea snake 
disco scallop — a neon light shoots through the middle 
another nudi 
My boat peeps!
I took none of these pics. They’re all from Shane Blaz, Ina Francisco and Mike Borgert. There are so many other pics, but my computer is ancient and it’s not playing nice with WordPress.
And then there’s the amount of frog fish we saw from teeny tiny to huge. They come in all sorts of colors and blend in with their surroundings. They have a lure that hangs in front of their face, so dinner swims right up to them. We also saw a sponge crab and bamboo shark (not pictured), plus a whole bunch of other weird and adorable creatures. You look long enough at a spot and you’ll eventually see there’s something mating, living, eating there.
Sadly, while it felt like we were on another planet, evidence of my species is all over the place. There were shoes, batteries, cans, cups, you name it mixed in with the coral and sand. I get it: Life is not fair; it’s brutal, every meal is another creature’s death, but can we all just try to keep our trash to ourselves?
The fish leave their shit all about as well, but it’s their part of the planet to dirty (and their waste serves a purpose for something else). Evidence of waters warming and the storms they birth is also hard to miss. But enough of that, we all know we need to do better, and sometimes we do.
I most certainly don’t know the secrets of the universe, or how to fix our damage, but I do know that I am one lucky girl who gets to see the many layers of art (goth included) that life creates.
And I get to make so many amazing human friends as well (we’ve got our magic too).
Our entire group thankful for our unconventional Thanksgiving.
Double, double toil and trouble…
Storms are a brewing every which way we look, and it’s definitely a time of chaos and uncertainty. Luckily that is not the reason why I haven’t posted in awhile. I’ve just been busy working, diving, living the good life. I figured there are only so many posts about sunsets, rainbows and weekend mermaiding that readers will tolerate.
This is the only turtle I’ll get to see this weekend because, for me, there is no diving. The ocean is getting bullied by some storms, which aren’t expected to do much harm to Guam, but the boat can’t go out today (nor do I want to fight the surf). I’m flying on Monday (for work), which means I can’t dive tomorrow. Sooooo, I have time to sip from my sassy mug and share my bits of living.
First off, it feels like I began the school year lassoed to a tornado. I’m not complaining, but it’s been busy, and it included a week in Georgia followed by a week in Okinawa. I was so jet lagged, I hope I came off coherent (then again I hope that regardless). I’ll be back in Okinawa next week, and I’ve brought my Christmas list with me — fingers crossed I can fit in some after-work shopping. I’ll definitely be eating well. Oh my goodness I will never get bored of Japanese cuisine.
I’ve also had a few personal setbacks, the biggest was discovering that I can’t vote during this year’s presidential election. People born in Guam are U.S. citizens, but, while living on island, they can only vote for Guam officials (their taxes also remain on Guam). If they move stateside and register there, then they can vote.
Little ole privileged me thought I’d be exempt from that since Arizona is listed as my home of residence, and I pay federal taxes. What I didn’t take into account was the minute I surrendered my AZ drivers license to get my Guam one, I gave up my absentee ballot. Worst part is, of course, deep down inside I had to know this (hello? Social Studies person), but obviously I didn’t think it through (or do my due diligence). I needed to renew my car insurance, and because I’m not military I don’t have military-affiliated insurance, I needed a Guam drivers license for the local insurance (it’s also law; you’re supposed to get a Guam license when you move here — however, there are exemptions, which I’m sure I could have dug up). Lesson learned: don’t give up your state license; find the loophole that makes it legal for you to keep it. Anyway, this is my too long of a ramble that I feel so disenfranchised that I can’t vote. I guess in some ways this is metaphorical for the way I feel about so much of what is going on: I have no control of the crazy (except my own).
Another setback is health care. It can be such a pain. Luckily my issues are minor, so it’s all good (until it’s not). I’ve been using a medical facility that’s affiliated with a church, which means after examination the doctors ask if they can pray for you — I’m never going to say no to divine intervention. But, lol, I recently had to go in for a urinary tract infection, and my young doctor asked our heavenly Father to smite the bacteria in my nether regions. Soooo, there’s that.
As always, with any overseas gig I have, there’s the distance from my family. Oh how I hate that I can’t mourn and celebrate so much side-by-side with them. I’m grateful I have the internet to keep us connected (and oh how I loathe some of its bits as well).
And, yet, my good still outweighs the bad. I love the pace of living here, the tribe I’ve been accepted into, the work I get to do, and the seasons of our ocean. Perhaps I am one of Poseidon’s daughters because whenever I do my time under water I am at such peace and awe, and then I get to celebrate it with my fellow underwater enthusiasts.
There is so much magic above and below our waters — how lucky are we! Of course there’s danger too, but that’s just part of our bargain with living.
And that, my friends, is probably way more than you wanted to read about my life’s spells. Stay safe, enjoy the treats that come your way, and do your right thing.
bettina without borders 