We got no troubles, life is the bubbles! Under the sea!

I met our Dive Master a week earlier at a party; he is a friend of my friend Richard. He's Belgium (and has a very noticeable accent, despite the fact that he loooooves to make fun of mine!) and he was so confident about not having shark problems that I felt safe with him. 

We arrived, and since I was the only once certified, he threw me the equipment to put together while he explained the gear to the others. Embarrassingly enough, I forgot a lot...and that's something you kinda don't want to mess up. Anyway, after I turned bright red and looked like a sad puppy for a while, he came to help me.

Then we walked for about five minutes down to the water with all our gear. I have never done a dive off the land before, it's always been out of a boat, so it was cool to do something new. The water was perfectly clear and bright blue. There had recently been a lot of rain because of some hurricanes close to the island, but everything seemed just right that morning for us. 

We discuss our dive route

Dive master first

Then me!! I was really nervous until I got in the water...then everything kicked in :-)

As soon as we decended into the water, I relaxed and remembered how much I love diving. There were fish everywhere; giant, tiny, colorful, striped, spotted, amazing. After we got everyone down safely, we started to explore the reef.

me, Frank, and Manu

me and my fish friends

chasing a turtle

Frank chasing the turtle! 

So I have to confess...we were hugging the coral reef pretty tight, and if you just went out a tiny bit further, there was this big, open space. I may or may not have wondered away from the group and into that space for a little while to flip my fins like the little mermaid while humming "Part of your world" in my mask...

By this time, people were running low on air, so everyone went up together. Then the Dive Master took me and Richard  back down and under a big cave into a grotto!! It was so beautiful...giant schools of fish, clear water, and that's when we met the octopus...

And then, sadly, it was time to go......

Diving was followed by a very large pool side BBQ. It was a pretty amazing day...

Honey baked camembert cheese, and carmel ice cream with fresh mangos and drizzled honey....

Shark Defense

Tomorrow is my first dive here.

Due to the current shark-panic on the island, (I believe I heard we have the world record now for the most shark attacks in the least amount of time?) I have delayed this day out of fear for the last three months. But now I figure...people are in the water all the time here, and most of them are fine...why shouldn't that include me!

To prepare for a possible shark encounter, I turned to the internet, and found this film which immediately put me at ease:

Who knew? All you have to do is punch and scream into the water, and tear up some dry paper! Why on Earth was I so worried? 

It will all be okay, as long as I remember that as a human being, I am smarter than a shark. 

Wish me luck. 

Love, and other funny stories.

I thought that by not speaking fluent French, I would have a hard time trying to find someone to date. This is not the case. As it turns out, one can meet a partial-English speaking bachelor every day. Sometimes in very strange ways. For example, last week I was innocently walking down the street. I stopped under an awning because the rain came pounding out of nowhere, as it usually does. An old man approached me and started asking for change. My normal protocol for when I am approached by strange men alone in the street is to pretend I can't speak French. Honestly I don't know why I keep doing this, as it has never worked for me. Usually, the guy says something like «Oh, do you speak English? I can speak English!» (Seriously, where are all the people who can't speak English here? I thought it was the majority....) This time, though, the old man just kept talking to me in French. After three or four times of me saying «I'm sorry, I don't understand.» I just gave in and answered his questions. No, I'm not a tourist. Yes, I work here. No, I'm not British. Or Italian. Then he rattled on about how he wants to learn English. Do I give private lessons? His son speaks English very well. In fact... he is single. He is about your age. Will you meet him here tommorrow at 3? I didn't end up meeting the son, but I did end up taking the man's number...with a two week trip to South Africa coming up in March, I can use the extra money!

First dates here are pretty much the same as in the US. Drinks and normal interview questions. Second dates are a little bit different. On one second date, we swam beneath a beautiful waterfall and had a picnic on the beach. On another, we took a friend's boat out into the ocean and watched the clouds zoom by overhead. On another, we drank homemade rum and danced on the terrace underneath the stars. It's all very lovely and exciting. Third dates are where it starts to get awkward. Because by then, I already know that I don't want anything to move forward, but they don't know that. And during the whole date, I make a point to steer it towards a «just friends hanging out» stance, but I know, at the end of the night, when you are obliged to kiss cheeks before saying goodnight, that I don't know how to manuver well enough around that to not get real-kissed in the process.

I don't know why I am not interested in being someone's girlfriend. The boys I date are perfectly nice, attractive, interesting, and intelligent. And French, which always is worth extra points!!! And who wouldn't want to fall in love in paradise? But I've been in the dating scene long enough to know what I'm looking for...that spark of something a little bit magical. And I don't intend to settle for anything less :-) 

In other news, there is this place called Crocodile park, where a crazy Frenchman feeds 30 crocdiles by dangling raw pieces of chicken from his mouth and into theirs. That's all I can say with words on that. Here are some pictures.

Final story of the week: one thing I've learned while studying a foreign language is that I am much better at speaking when I am slightly drunk. Recently I've learned that this goes both ways. I was at a party last Saturday night, and by 4am (when parties start winding down here...) everyone was suddenly speaking English! Not even just to me, but to each other, and it was pretty hilarious. For example, one of our friends was trying to sing «Don't worry, be Happy» which came out «Don't worry, be Quiet!» (shhhhhhhhhh)! Then two guys were wrestling in the pool, and when one had had enough, he yelled «Go away your Grandmother!!»  I'm not sure if that is a normal insult one says in French or not, but I laughed so hard at the idea, I couldn't breathe. 

On that note, I'm going to go away, my Grandmother. Have a wonderful rest of the week, mes amis <3

2012

I haven't written for a while because something in me broke on New Year's Eve, and I'm just now fixing it...

Last Sunset of 2011

I've never in my life seen anything like the New Year's Eve party here.People from every part of the island head to the west coast around sunset and set up camp. Food, wine, homemade rum, candles...even giant dining tables chairs in some cases. At certain places along the beach, some radio stations set up stages, and a DJ plays a really weird mix of techno and Motown oldies. (...?) We are all dancing. We are all lighting lanterns and casting them into the dark sky, loaded with big wishes for the new year. My first attempt at a lantern ended up in flames, but I got better the second and third time. They drift up into the sky and there are hundreds of them...after a while you could only distinguish them from the billions of strongly lit stars by the slight orangish color. Meanwhile, families are setting off fireworks over our heads, some go amiss and smack right into the calm ocean water.

The people arrive...

Fireworks!

At midnight, the fireworks pick up and we strip down to our bathing suits and leap into the ocean. Drunk people all around us are splashing salty ocean water at each other and screaming "bonne année!! bonne annéeeee!!" under the light of the fireworks. We hug. I step on something squishy in the ocean and I knew it was one of those giant slug things i see all over the place when I snorkel. I didn't touch the bottom anymore after that. But it was beautiful, and the moon was smiling down at us, and the stars and  lanterns were gleaming and flying and my heart was pounding from the excitement of it all.

Then things started to become really fast and blurry...too much wine and too much dancing and suddenly I got sick of everything. I mean everything. I didn't want to be here, on this stupid beach, stranded on a tiny island, far, far away. I missed my friends and family, all of whom were carrying on with their own lives and celebrations and didn't have much time to talk with me during Christmas or before the year ended. I missed my dog,who was off being dumb and ignorantly happy somewhere in Texas. And then I got angry. Angry because I still don't have a clue what I'm going to do with my life, or where to go from here. Angry because I have to fight all the time to be understood, because my roommate never leaves me alone, because this island is so damn suffocating. Angry because I'm sick of having to be so dependent...not being able to drive anywhere or go out when I want to, or even just be on my own for five damn seconds. Angry because I thought I would feel completely free here and instead, in some ways, I feel even more caged.

The sun was rising on the new year when I got to my room in really bitter tears. I starting throwing everything I owned into my suitcases and I was hell-bent on going to the airport and catching the first plane off this island. After an hour or so of my tantrum, I realized that I was just tired and probably still a little drunk, and instead of going to the airport I fell asleep on the wood floor.

When I woke up the next day, the anger melted away and then I was just sad. I ruined my own New Year's, I discovered that I had some major issues in my head, but I did not feel like doing anything about any of it. Instead, I wanted to lay in bed and feel sorry for myself. And that's exactly what I did for the next five days. To prove that I did nothing but stay in bed, I can tell you that I finished the last three books of the Harry Potter series in a week and watched the movies after each book to see the differences. Oh and I stopped speaking French. I refused. If my roommates spoke to me in French, I would answer in English, or not even listen. I gave up. French had won.

Finally, my friend Sylvie invited me to stay with her and Manu in Tampon for a few days and things slowly started to change. I got some fresh air and sun. I was forced to speak in French. I had someone who was willing to listen to me vent. She took me to a pig roast beach party where I met lots of new people, and the next day we all went for a picnic beneath a waterfall. The day after that, she took me to St. Pierre for some retail therapy. I could breathe again.

I feel a little guilty. I know I'm lucky and I know there are people who would die to be where I am. But I'm only human and I also know that while beautiful weather and breathtaking scenery makes for a nice atmosphere...happiness and hope are things that are on the inside and sometimes, they just aren't. 

Luckily for me, however, I find that eventually, they always come back.