It was “island hopping” day, and we were pumped up and ready to go. We all woke up around 6:00am and had three hours to go until the excursion was scheduled to begin. The only task we absolutely needed to do in that three hour period was to pick out our fins and masks, and get some water ready for the trip.
The excursion was going to be all day, 9:00am to 5:00pm. It was a snorkel/swim/lunch tour around the islands in a “banka boat”. It was called the “snake island” tour…and I will admit, the name was a bit daunting.
I did some laundry (hand washing, as always), Scott did some reading, and Joao did some swimming. When we had finished these vital tasks, we ventured down to the outdoor rester aunt area to pick out our fins and masks. There were many different fins, unmarked, and virtually unmatchable. They were ALL too small for my American eleven and-a-half feet. The employee had to go back into the “extra storage” area to get some larger fins for me. The mask was a cinch, and was theoretically sanitized in seconds. I did have my doubts about the scientific aspect of their method of sanitation.
We filled up our water bottles, and were ready.
The group rendezvoused down in the front area of the grounds (this is the area with a hammock and some wooden chairs and tables). It was a very diverse group of people. It was us, from Hawaii, a man with long wavy hair and glasses (who I later would learn was named Stephen) from London (and originally, Canada), a mother and daughter from Norway (I learned this after trying to speak the little German I knew to them for half the day, with no success), and a Philippino couple who had immigrated in their twenties to Canada, then to America.
Suffice it to say, there were many conversations to be had. We all introduced ourselves and, generally, I think, liked each other.
I have noticed, since traveling to more remote and unknown areas of the world, that you meet a different kind of person. You meet travelers. The difference between tourists and travelers become startlingly apparent and distinct. You might see a tourist at a bar, sitting alone or with many other tourists with him/her, drinking a beer and talking about how cheap everything is. A traveler, you will find in a dark, back alley rester aunt, trying a bite of the local cuisine, and speaking in five different languages at once.
Generally, we on this tour, tended to be more traveler than tourist.
We boarded the boat (wading through waist-high water) and took our seats. As we started to pull away, one of the crewmembers (there were three) apparently forgot something because we turned back almost immediately.
When all the necessaries had been checked, we were off once again.
We were plunged, headfirst, into beauty. It was unbelievably sunny, clear, and beautiful. It was all the things that Hawaii is supposed to be, but just plain isn’t.
The first place we stopped, was fairly anti-climactic. We pulled into a cove of sorts, and were told we were not allowed on the beach, because we did not pay to use the area, but as long as we stayed in the water, we were fine. We awkwardly put on our snorkels and masks, and jumped in the water.
There were very few fish, and a lot of mini-jellyfish stinging the living heck out of us. This was our first encounter with jellyfish for the trip, and we thought it would be our last. As we rode away from the area, though, we began to see shimmering white objects in the water. They were sparse at first, but soon turned into a grid, one huge jellyfish every four feet in every direction.
“Its jellyfish season, apparently.” said Stephen, from London. This was the month when all the jellyfish came out. We were scared out of our minds. Well, all except Helena from Norway, who was just eager to go snorkeling again.
The next place we were taken to was the place called “snake island”. None of us knew what to expect. When we got there, we were all blown away by what we saw. It was two islands, connected by a sand bar. This was paradise. Accept no imitations.
The water was warm, shallow, and clear. It was amazingly beautiful all around.
Some of us (myself, Joao, Scott, Stephen, and the Norwegians) decided to take a walk from the island we were anchored at, to the other island, through the water, on the underwater sandbar. As we walked, we began to see big clumps of seaweed crossing our path. When we got closer, however, we realized they were in fact, huge, red jellyfish.
They did not seem to chase us in any way, and as long as we stayed a decent distance, did not seem to be any danger. This did cause me, Stephen, and Scott to hang back, however, while Joao and the Norwegians kept on walking.
They made it there, and back, and lived to tell the tale, unstung.
The next attraction was something called “the caves”. This was the island where they would be preparing lunch and resting for a period. While much of the group went inside a small gap in the wall of a cliff to explore a cavern, my fear of small spaces, and hunger, made me decide to wait hungrily by the food instead.
Soon, the group emerged, and we all started up a game of beach volleyball. We were sort of good, in our own special way. I ended up serving the ball WAY to far the first couple of times, and Joao did not do too much better. By the end of the game, however, we had gotten pretty good, and were passing it between the teams three or four times before its inevitable straying to the sand below us.
We took a swim, at this point, and (despite the consistent fear of jellyfish) it was perfect. Someone from the group noticed a stirring amongst the crew’s group and shouted “LUNCH!”. We all launched towards the beach-side table where lunch was being served”.
It looked pretty good. There were whole fishes stuffed with vegetables, which unfortunately just aren’t my thing. There was barbecue chicken (which definitely IS my thing), there was cucumber/tomatoe salad, there was mango (cut with five slices, two vertical and three horizontal. This allows the mango to be essentially turned inside out and eaten very cleanly), and there was rice. I ate rice…and I hate rice.
A half-an-hour of surprising silence later, we were somewhat satisfied. We talked about various things (our lives, shirts, pronunciation of words in Tagalog, and more) and when we were done, some went to swim, some went to sleep, and some (like me) were ready to go home.
A half an hour later, we were herded back on the boat. We were going home!
Not so fast…however. I thought we were going home, but instead, we were taken to another snorkeling spot. This was better snorkeling, for sure, but by that time we had all (well…except Helena) had enough of the water. We clambered up onto the boat to wait for Helena, and the crewmember she was with, to come back to the boat.
It took a good fifteen minutes for this to happen, and as they approached, the crew member was waving something in his hand. He was gripping it tightly. Someone said he had caught a fish by hand. I was thinking…an edible fish.
It was a puffer-fish. He held it in his hand proudly, but Helena looked quite upset. She was not fond of abusing fish, or any animal.
We all stroked its enlarged belly. It was soft and slimy. All in all, a very interesting little fish. As he laid it back into the water, we feared it was dead, as it appeared not to be moving. Soon its flippers began to flip, and it began releasing air, through its mouth, out of its belly.
This process took a couple of minutes, and, finally, it assumed its normal size and swam off in a lightning-quick motion.
We returned home, after a short detour at another “cave” area. This cave was not near a beach though, so , thankfully, we did not stop.
When we returned, we were sunburnt (oh yes…I am toastie red) and exhausted. After a bite to eat at the “Art Cafe” and a few walks around the streets, I came back to my room, and collapsed.
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No pictures? Awww.