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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.
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
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
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.
Worlds within worlds
Shame on me … it’s been months since I’ve posted. I’m still breathing, kicking and screaming (okay the last two I do in my head — more than you know).
The beauty of our chaotically imperfect lives is that regardless of where (literally and metaphorically) we are there is always layer upon layer to explore. Sometimes we get stuck until we remember to change direction, and then we get lost before we find our way to the next stuck or next oh wow.
Living in post-typhoon Guam is teaching me a lot about how I navigate my way through this process.
On the one hand, it’s amazing how quickly life bounced back, on the other woefully slow.
I left mid June to spend much-needed time with my family. Oh my goodness that in itself is always layers of joy, nostalgia, love and guilt for living so far away — always that damned guilt, especially when I am homesick for the place that is home but not really. Please do not confuse guilt with regret. I do not regret this life; it feeds my soul as much as my love for my children. It’s simply a mix of worlds within worlds.
Anyway, I loved my time home with the kids and their families. I also loved the too short time with close friends. That said when I boarded the first of my three flights back to Guam, I was ready. I missed my life there.
In just a few weeks the jungle returned. I’m still amazed at how quickly the vegetation grew over the wreckage. New vines and leaves have woven themselves around broken trees and somehow made them stand tall again. The chickens are back — not in the same amount they were before, but the babies are bobbing all over the place. I am blessed again with the scent of wet plumeria during my walks to the beach. Our beach, however, still has a long way to go before its shade returns. I guess it just took too harsh a beating.
Upon returning I decided it was time to discover the world that lives under the water I love so much. I better appreciate the phrase you can’t teach an old dog new tricks because holy hell I struggled learning to scuba dive. I dreaded every step of it, and I so badly wanted to quit. Other people take a 4-day course and they’re diving with friends by the following week. I started with that same course, but Joe and I ended up doing extra private lessons with our instructors because let’s face it fat folk float (who knew?). Older folk also don’t like letting go of their fears and realigning their instincts. The act of scuba diving is actually quite easy, but the learning to trust you won’t die is a whole other thing.
But this fat old dog finally figured it out, so screw you no-new-tricks cliche. I still struggle with my fears (trust me I have trust issues with myself), but when I’m under and find a sliver of zen, I pay attention and I see that fish and turtles have facial expressions. I’ve seen more than one give me the WTF are you doing look, some taunt me, some are amused by me, some, surprisingly a shark, fear me, and oh my goodness there’s so much more to see. I’m not yet sure I love it, but I am so ecstatic I’m getting to see this other world. I hope I keep doing it because there is soooooo much more for me to discover (lol and yet I’m terrified by that as well).
I wish I knew who took this pic because I didn’t take any underwater ones. 
Pic by Mike Borgert. 
I’m in that group! Pic by Greg @ The Dive Tribe 
Greg and Susie (oh noo just realized I didn’t upload the pic with Susie — she was my everything underwater) our instructors from the Dive Tribe. 
A moment of calm above the coral. Pic by Dive Tribe 
lol and there’s sexy me. This is what I look like AFTER a dive 
pic by The Dive Tribe 
I LOVE this pic. Thank you Carter Gingrich. That’s me clinging to my buddy Pam Borgert, who is a lifesaver in so many ways. 
Oh, I was so cocky when we bought our new gear. I thought I’d be diving just a few days later. lolololol
So, why am I here writing on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon? The man-made part of post typhoon recovery isn’t rebounding as quickly as nature’s work. We’re still having frequent power outages, which I’m sort of okay with (I’ve got a fantastic balcony to sip on), but our internet is definitely a test in patience. Long story short I’m waiting once again (lost count) for a visit from the Internet guy. Considering it’s after 3 p.m., and I told them I have plans at 5, I’m thinking another day will be wasted tomorrow — although I’ll do it at the pool with friends. I’ve discovered that like much of my species I am definitely addicted to the many different escapes the internet provides. And, it’s making me quite pissy having to fight for it. Although, I’m not really without since I can tether my phone — so call me hot spot princess — it’s just slower and an extra click or two of energy (and, well, not always stable).
I also have books, walks, friends and so many other gifts to get lost in.
How lucky am I to experience all these glorious worlds. Thank you to the powers that be.
bettina without borders 