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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
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.
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.
Hello Sunshine…
Good Morning World! Aaahhh, I’m back to sitting on my balcony, sipping my coffee and enjoying the sheer joy of having a Saturday morning with nothing booked. In a bit we’ll be out and about showing off Guam to our friend Derek, who arrived Easter Sunday. But, for now, it’s peace and almost quiet (lol it seems like we always have trash or construction trucks beeping away the quiet).
This time last week I was enjoying the view from another island balcony at El Galleon dive resort in Puerto Galera, Philippines. I loved this resort (I don’t get paid for any of this, so when I include the name and link of a place it’s special). Service is top notch, and everyone at the resort made our stay easy and stress free (including transportation from and to Manila). It truly felt like we were visiting old friends — who just happened to have a gorgeous spot of island life.
It was my first visit to a dive resort, so imagine my surprise at not having to haul my gear to a boat or worry about anything other than checking my air and dive computer. I also had my own cubby where all of it remained until, sad sigh, check out day. The dive staff were also fantastic — as were my fellow divers. I made some great friends, and while I say this a lot (and rarely do) I am so going back (seriously!). Whose going with me next?!
the view from our front door 
pool side bliss 
this view never gets old 
fish being delivered to restaurant, which never disappointed. Oh my goodness both of their shrimp appetizers are yummy. 
whoops this is Sabang, which is an easy walk from hotel. 
lol aren’t we sexy in the water taxi on our way to resort (I was fighting tummy issues) 
This is what I looked at while getting a pedi/mani and then a massage — and soooo affordable. 
we had a full moon and a few days later a really low tide, which brought out adorable treasure hunters. 
Happy hour at the bar — new dive buddies! 
Awww hey Betty! I hope we dive and sip again. 
ahhh the balcony 
lol part of the 67 stairs that led to our room. Joe was not pleased about the climb, but the room was worth it. There are also plenty of ground-level rooms near the pool. 
happy hour includes two for one! yes please.
We also lucked out and got introduced to a fabulous Tuk Tuk driver/tour guide who brought us to see waterfalls and White Sand beach; the next day he took Joe all over the island while I had fun diving. Our first and last nights in the Philippines we spent at the Belmont, a Manila hotel within walking distance of Terminal 3 (which happened to be our terminal). If you have late night or early morning flights this is totally the way to go. There are also other hotels nearby to choose from. I enjoyed Belmont’s rooftop pool.
best way to fight traffic is in a tuk tuk 
Taz! We’ll see you next time. 
While Derek landed in Guam on Easter, we were in Manila enjoying our last day in the Phillipines. 
a mall near our hotel — World Resorts something or other. We had fun killing time there while waiting for our flight. 
LOVED the rooftop bar at airport hotel. 
yes I sipped bevies and took a dip here. 
best idea ever: Terminal three has a walkway to nearby hotels. Super easy for us ! 
There’s so much more to share, but I’ll have to save that for my next visit — including diving the Verde Island passage, which I didn’t get to do (long story short I got sick before the trip, and it bullied me a bit throughout, but I won in the end, and I still fit in a lot of wonderful dives). Derek is stirring, so it’s time to go back to having fun on my own island. People, I think it’s official: I will never get bored of island life.
Thank you to everyone I met on this trip who truly made it special! Hugs and cheers!
Brazil diary…
We’re back in Mons after a whirlwind trip. While we were in Brazil, I usually woke earlier than most of our crew, climbed to the upstairs balcony of ‘our’ beach house, and either read or wrote. I didn’t have time to post any of it until now.
July 21
This is my view right this second. As will be the case with the rest of my photos it can’t possibly do Brazil justice. The magic of travel isn’t in the party snaps or our landscape shots; it’s the inhaling/exhaling life in another corner of the world. You just can’t post the layers, the sounds, the scents, the soul —- no matter how good you are with filters and angles.
We’re staying at a friend’s family home in Angra de Reis (Port of Kings), a famous beach town nestled among the mountains about a two-hour drive from Rio. So, once again we are blessed to vacation with people who actually live here —- as well as with a group of friends whose mantra has become, “this soooo doesn’t suck.”
Snaps of the nearby beach life. OMG that dog broke my heart. She decided we needed to be her people, and we so would’ve kept her had we been able to.
Yesterday Wilber’s mom graced us with Feijoada, a traditional Brazilian bean and meat stew. She and her husband cooked all day while we napped, read, and watched Brazilian families sing, dance, swim at the beach.
On Thursday we rode a party boat to four of the 300-plus islands that bud off the coast. We ate amazing seafood, drank bevies with freshly-squeezed juice, partied with locals (and other tourists), swam in the Blue Lagoon, strolled the beach of what-felt-like a deserted island, relaxed at an open-air restaurant (more seafood please), and rocked and lulled our way through sunset. Then we put on our sarongs, ripped off our wet bathing suits and ended the night at a beachside bar watching a guy sing Brazilian country music.
What a day this was!
Someone is practicing the flute while I type this. Booty-shaking music blasts from another house closer to shore. Children squeal while playing soccer. Birds gossip about whose laying whom’s eggs. Stray dogs shade themselves under tropical bushes, waiting for suckers like me to coo over them. Tourist (or those of the wealthy) helicopters hover above, until it’s their turn to land on the numerous helipads scattered among the islands. And, the annoying chihuha mix across the street is barking at all of us: there’s always that one guy that’s gotta mess up the rhythm!
We also spent a day in Rio, and we’re spending a night there next week, so I’ll do a separate Rio blog.
July 22
It rained throughout the night, so this morning is blessedly cool. While it may be winter in Brazil, it certainly isn’t cold. Mist devours surrounding mountains; birds circling above the trees disappear into its density. The Atlantic pounds the coast. A grandmother scolds the young while she begins the long process of cooking today’s Sunday meal. The clanking of her pots and pans adds to the disco (seriously!) music reverberating from a neighbouring house. Rooftop satellite dishes taunt the few remaining anorexic rooftop antennas. My cohorts are still snuggled in their beds since we exhausted ourselves touristing yesterday.
The plan was to end the night Sambaing in the streets of Angra, but all but one of us was done. It’s all good because as curvy and wild as the roads are, we unintentionally sambaed our asses in the car.
We spent the day at a beach near Paroty, which was surreal. You can either wade through a frigid canal (the water comes from a nearby waterfall) or pay 1 real for a boat to take you across to the beach (no brainer on which option we chose!). Then you have the choice to either lounge on the beach or take another boat (lol the Shrek) to a nearby island to do the same. This beach’s water is calm because it’s surrounded by islands that tame the feral waves, but there’s plenty of fun going on inland.
Behind the sea are mountains on top of mountains, and surrounding the beach is a small farm with chickens so tall they could be poultry runway models. There’s also a restaurant, so we got to gorge on more fish, sausage, acai (it’s served with bananas and nuts), beer and a freshly-squeezed pineapple juice drink.
After that we walked the large-cobblestone streets of Paroty. I’ll never bitch about navigating the streets of Mons again. Brazilians used boulders to cobble their streets. It’s a lovely town of artists, musicians, shops and restaurants. Sadly, one of our crew had to leave to continue her summer journey. Another one of us leaves tonight, and the rest of us leave on Wednesday. In too short a time we’ll be back to the rhythm of our routines —-maybe being envied by tourists visiting our corners of the world?
July 25
We fly out early tonight. The boys are packing up their suitcases; Joe is reading on his phone. It’s been an amazing trip. Our last night in Angra was spent whooping it up with Wilber’s family. Oh my God did they ever cook up a storm. Brazilian barbecues are the best. Basically, you sit around drinking beer or calparihnas, laughing and waiting for platters of meat to be passed around. There’s also salad, a Yucca condiment (basically yummy crumblies you put on top of stuff), spicy oil, rice, and this amazing garlic bread concoction —- it’s grilled and stuffed with sausage, butter, mayonnaise and other goodness (I’ll try to replicate it with my sandwich grill!).
I’ve already bored you with too many words on a trip that can’t be done justice with pics and words, so I’ll end this with a thank you to Wilber’s family and Brazil for welcoming us to this layered, complex-yet simple haven. Yes I know there is an incredible amount of awfulness here too, and, yes, we totally avoided the poverty-crime stricken areas, so our view is biased. It always saddens and surprises me that the most beautiful places in the world (with the most amazing people) are always partnered with corruption and violence. So, I’m even more grateful for the good we get to experience.
bettina without borders 