On Redang now…
Redang…beautiful white sand between my toes & clearest blue waters too. Mmm….
AND relaxing after finishing my first dive of the year, after I got certified last July. Saw a hawksbill turtle, a dead hawksbill turtle, and a huge blue-spotted ray :) Had to surface as I was cramping and my fins dropped off two times, though, and my sinuses are not feeling all that great. We’ll see if I can continue diving tomorrow…
I’m with a fun bunch of people, who’re much more experienced divers. I’ve only logged six dives, while the rest of them have at least 30 under their belt.
Am pretty rusty when it comes to buoyancy, and I’d even forgotten how to put the gear together…but as with driving and other hands-on skills, it’s by doing that we learn. I adore the feeling of weightlessness under water. It’s so good to just float along, with zero gravity.
Would love to get S and DS and JC and the rest of the divers out, but everybody seems to be busy with work or are injured. LT is interested in learning, though, and I’m very enthused about having another potential buddy.
And gearing up…a pair of fins, booties and a mesh bag is the next step, with a BCD eventually…will want to try out other people’s gear when I go on course. A regulator, I’m not so sure. A dive computer can wait as well, though it may well be my next watch. C has a Swatch watch that goes up to 200m and doesn’t cost that much. I think there’s a huge market for pretty girls’ dive logs, dive computers, gear bags (come on, why are they all in uniform IBM black), und so weiter. I chose my Beuchat wetsuit because it’s edged in pink, and the Tusa snorkel and mask strap cos they come in pink as well. Maybe we can have little dolphins and Nemos with flowers all over our stuff… :)
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From Writer’s Almanac.
This is why I like KFC actually, it lets me share meals with my Muslim friends. I get a bit sick of fried food all the time…I actually (secretly) like YTF despite bitching about it all the time. Hey, I am Hakka.
Perhaps the World Ends Here
by Joy Harjo
The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what,
we must eat to live.
The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set on the
table so it has been since creation, and it will go on.
We chase chickens or dogs away from it. Babies teethe
at the corners. They scrape their knees under it.
It is here that children are given instructions on what
it means to be human. We make men at it,
we make women.
At this table we gossip, recall enemies and the ghosts
of lovers.
Our dreams drink coffee with us as they put their arms
around our children. They laugh with us at our poor
falling-down selves and as we put ourselves back
together once again at the table.
This table has been a house in the rain, an umbrella
in the sun.
Wars have begun and ended at this table. It is a place
to hide in the shadow of terror. A place to celebrate
the terrible victory.
We have given birth on this table, and have prepared
our parents for burial here.
At this table we sing with joy, with sorrow.
We pray of suffering and remorse.
We give thanks.
Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table,
while we are laughing and crying,
eating of the last sweet bite.
“Perhaps the World Ends Here” by Joy Harjo, from Reinventing the Enemy’s Language. © W.W. Norton and Co., 1998. Reprinted with permission.
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A (at the buffet): She’s going Western style, course by course.
B: I’m going Ethiopian style as I don’t want to vomit underwater.
C: I’m going garbage style: Everything also goes in.A: So we were in the army and this guy I knew was quite pampered at home. So he put stones in his pocket or something to march for three hours and ended up going to see the medic with huge bruises and abrasions on his thighs. He got out of heavy marching for days after that…
D: Wow, that’s smart.
A: This guy is quiet but he’s good. There he is. (points to E)
E smiles.
A: To this day we’re not sure what exactly he did. We’re just guessing it’s stones.