Life is now. There was never a time when your life was not now, nor will there ever be - Eckhart Tolle
“How was your week-end?”
“Piece of paradise. Yours?”
Didn’t really care about the answer, cause I knew it could be nowhere near as nice as mine. C’mon – Red Sea diving, live aboard, French company... How much better can it get? Of course, I may have been wrong about the French company. They are a strange bunch. Speak only French and stick to their own kind – big time. Out of the 25 people (excluding the Filipino crew) only four were not French. Forget about the accent – 48 hours of it almost did my head in. Trying to understand the instructor who looked and sounded like Insp Clouseau, was hilarious though.
I’m use to men wearing board-shorts on the beach. But the French, they like their tiny costumes, irrespective of their own shape or size. They put everything on display without shame. Even use the tight-fitting garments to store lighters, Gauloise and i-pods (apart from the obvious). Fricken bunch of characters.
We live in the highest part of Saudi - 3000m to be exact. Driving to the Red Sea means going down the escarpment. It also means hairpin-bends and traffic in opposite directions using the same lane to overtake! Problem is that if you don’t drive as they do, yóú actually become the hazard. I asked the French driver if he was religious and could see the question made him feel somewhat uncomfortable. He mumbled that he was born Catholic. Told him not to worry, as I was religious enough for the both of us and that I had every intention of praying all the way to the bottom. Just as well, cause we passed an accident scene with bodies lying around! Negotiating the mountain takes about an hour. Driving to Al Lith takes five hours. Once down the mountain, the highway along the coast to Jeddah is not too bad. But believe me, some drivers still manage to overturn their vehicles.
My job (self-imposed) was to keep the driver awake. I talked a lot (not a problem for me). When I got tired, I offered food (which only I ate). Then I resorted to intermittent “Are you still okay”-s. Eventually he asked: “Are yóú still okay?”, which is when I realised I was perhaps not doing a very good job.
Finding toilets along the route could be problematic. Here’s a hint – find a mosque! They always have washrooms. Think it’s compulsory. You may perhaps not find a female section, but when in need, I can’t see the problem. Scared the hell out of few men though! Won’t go into the graphics of squatting and hole in the ground stuff, but the thought did cross my mind – how on earth do the old ladies cope?
Arriving at the marina was heaven. Tried very hard not to look and seem too excited and unaccustomed to all of this – but WOW! Boat is called Dream Diver. That it was indeed. My compatriot, Blondie, had rocked up for a dive week-end without as much as a mask. Had to purchase a wetsuit at the harbour before taking off. Quite surprising then that she actually did the max dives – 7 in all. Or maybe not. Probably got youth on her side. And cute blonde looks. (She’s great company, by the way!)
French all had a great reunion. Some of them came from Jeddah. They celebrated with pastis.(an anise-flavoured liqueur and aperitif from France, typically containing 40–45% alcohol by volume) And then red wine. (home-brew) It was the only time they drank, because all are serious divers. We spent the first night on the boat, although we only took off the next morning, just before dawn. We slept below deck, but as the engines started up, everyone was up and on the top (open)deck – the safest place to avoid sea-sickness. Thus we saw the sun rise and set every day for the two days we were on board. For me, already a taste of paradise. Some more magical moments when dolphins showed up. (regular occurrence throughout) Then the first reef. The first dive. Calm sea. Warm water. Gentle entry. Gentle exit. Crew who does almost everything but dress you.
Diving happened morning, noon and night. At 8h00, 11h00, 15h00 and 19h00. It’s wall-diving at its best. People grouped together according to their experience. It kinda just happened, almost like some cosmic unspoken law. I dived with people whom I’d never met before, knew not their names, and yet felt comfortable with.
Diving is exhausting. Ask anyone who dives. It certainly takes it out of me. So we dived, ate and slept and dived again. I got very good at doing the sleeping thing. Diving and boat and (hate to admit it), but yes, inexperience got the better of me on day 1. None of that on day 2. Sooo.oo.oooo needed to have a day 3. (Next time!)
The guys who went deep (40m) saw sharks. At 20m, all I saw was fish – fairly small fish. Lots of them. Thus, on the last day, the last dive, I bailed and went to explore the little island of Mar Mar. It is a breeding ground for turtles. Didn’t see any turtles, but saw all their tracks. (The divers saw turtles) You know, anywhere else in the world, people would not be allowed anywhere near such an island. This seems to be in the middle of nowhere. Like the Life of Pi – in the middle of the ocean, you come upon a sandbank.
I can’t adequately describe what I saw, felt and experienced. Even the pictures do it no justice. All I can say, when asked about it:
“How was your week-end?”
“Piece of paradise. Yours?”
Didn’t really care about the answer, cause I knew it could be nowhere near as nice as mine. C’mon – Red Sea diving, live aboard, French company... How much better can it get? Of course, I may have been wrong about the French company. They are a strange bunch. Speak only French and stick to their own kind – big time. Out of the 25 people (excluding the Filipino crew) only four were not French. Forget about the accent – 48 hours of it almost did my head in. Trying to understand the instructor who looked and sounded like Insp Clouseau, was hilarious though.
I’m use to men wearing board-shorts on the beach. But the French, they like their tiny costumes, irrespective of their own shape or size. They put everything on display without shame. Even use the tight-fitting garments to store lighters, Gauloise and i-pods (apart from the obvious). Fricken bunch of characters.
We live in the highest part of Saudi - 3000m to be exact. Driving to the Red Sea means going down the escarpment. It also means hairpin-bends and traffic in opposite directions using the same lane to overtake! Problem is that if you don’t drive as they do, yóú actually become the hazard. I asked the French driver if he was religious and could see the question made him feel somewhat uncomfortable. He mumbled that he was born Catholic. Told him not to worry, as I was religious enough for the both of us and that I had every intention of praying all the way to the bottom. Just as well, cause we passed an accident scene with bodies lying around! Negotiating the mountain takes about an hour. Driving to Al Lith takes five hours. Once down the mountain, the highway along the coast to Jeddah is not too bad. But believe me, some drivers still manage to overturn their vehicles.
My job (self-imposed) was to keep the driver awake. I talked a lot (not a problem for me). When I got tired, I offered food (which only I ate). Then I resorted to intermittent “Are you still okay”-s. Eventually he asked: “Are yóú still okay?”, which is when I realised I was perhaps not doing a very good job.
Finding toilets along the route could be problematic. Here’s a hint – find a mosque! They always have washrooms. Think it’s compulsory. You may perhaps not find a female section, but when in need, I can’t see the problem. Scared the hell out of few men though! Won’t go into the graphics of squatting and hole in the ground stuff, but the thought did cross my mind – how on earth do the old ladies cope?
Arriving at the marina was heaven. Tried very hard not to look and seem too excited and unaccustomed to all of this – but WOW! Boat is called Dream Diver. That it was indeed. My compatriot, Blondie, had rocked up for a dive week-end without as much as a mask. Had to purchase a wetsuit at the harbour before taking off. Quite surprising then that she actually did the max dives – 7 in all. Or maybe not. Probably got youth on her side. And cute blonde looks. (She’s great company, by the way!)
French all had a great reunion. Some of them came from Jeddah. They celebrated with pastis.(an anise-flavoured liqueur and aperitif from France, typically containing 40–45% alcohol by volume) And then red wine. (home-brew) It was the only time they drank, because all are serious divers. We spent the first night on the boat, although we only took off the next morning, just before dawn. We slept below deck, but as the engines started up, everyone was up and on the top (open)deck – the safest place to avoid sea-sickness. Thus we saw the sun rise and set every day for the two days we were on board. For me, already a taste of paradise. Some more magical moments when dolphins showed up. (regular occurrence throughout) Then the first reef. The first dive. Calm sea. Warm water. Gentle entry. Gentle exit. Crew who does almost everything but dress you.
Diving happened morning, noon and night. At 8h00, 11h00, 15h00 and 19h00. It’s wall-diving at its best. People grouped together according to their experience. It kinda just happened, almost like some cosmic unspoken law. I dived with people whom I’d never met before, knew not their names, and yet felt comfortable with.
Diving is exhausting. Ask anyone who dives. It certainly takes it out of me. So we dived, ate and slept and dived again. I got very good at doing the sleeping thing. Diving and boat and (hate to admit it), but yes, inexperience got the better of me on day 1. None of that on day 2. Sooo.oo.oooo needed to have a day 3. (Next time!)
The guys who went deep (40m) saw sharks. At 20m, all I saw was fish – fairly small fish. Lots of them. Thus, on the last day, the last dive, I bailed and went to explore the little island of Mar Mar. It is a breeding ground for turtles. Didn’t see any turtles, but saw all their tracks. (The divers saw turtles) You know, anywhere else in the world, people would not be allowed anywhere near such an island. This seems to be in the middle of nowhere. Like the Life of Pi – in the middle of the ocean, you come upon a sandbank.
I can’t adequately describe what I saw, felt and experienced. Even the pictures do it no justice. All I can say, when asked about it:
I had a taste of heaven, a piece of paradise.
Unbelievable, no, believable. Every time you blog, I want to go there too.
ReplyDeleteMe too. Take me with.
ReplyDelete