Day 49 - Eagle ray migraine?

Another perfect day in paradise. Even the fact that I'm right now heavily medicated, yet still suffering from a terrible migraine, cannot spoil the beauty of today.

Our dive master today was Aristeo. What a name! What a character! They call him "Jack Sparrow" here for his piraty demeanor: a long golden earring dangling from his ear, an obligatory dive knife strapped to his right shin, a self-designed three-tooth metal sling for killing lion fish tucked under the belt, a fiery spark in his eyes. Underwater, he is never still, always moving, always pointing to something interesting (whether it's a pretty sizable black tip shark - today, for example - or a tiny nudibranch). On shore, he is almost a renaissance man: he can help you build a house, he can engineer various useful devices for mass production on the island, he can spear fish, he can this, he can that; as far as I can tell from the stories, he can pretty much do anything.

My super-conservative computer played an evil joke on me today. We went to the Eagle Ray City. And there were 18 eagle rays this time! However, I was able to see only 3 of those... The dive at this location is usually like this: you drop to 80-90 feet, fight against a pretty strong current for some time to get to a chasm where eagle rays may or may not hang out, hook your arm around a sponge at the bottom (around 85 feet) in order not to fly away, and stay put until eagle rays appear or you run out of air or your computer orders you to come up due to decompression limits, whichever comes first. All the three previous times I have been fortunate to first see the eagle rays, but this time no such luck: I was holding tight onto a sponge, thinking how funny it was to feel like a flag trembling in the powerful wind, ready to fall off its post, when I heard my computer beep angrily. Apparently, although I was diving nitrox, I had only 1 minute left before I was ready to hit the decompression limit. I signaled Aristeo, "What do you want me to do?" He signaled back, "The rest of the group has normal computers:). Come up a little. I will reel out the line for you to hold on to". I thought about it for a second: if the eagle rays were already there, it would make sense for me to screw the decompression limits and stay, but who knows if they will ever appear, I better come up and not mess up with my stupid Suunto (I heard stories that sometimes this computer never goes out of the decompression mode once it's in it, that was an additional motivation not to risk it). I came up to 70 feet. That was good enough for a minute or two before my computer got angry again and demanded that I go higher. So slowly but surely up, up, up I went, until the frustrating beeping stopped around 40 feet. As usual, the current in the top layer was even stronger than at the bottom, so in a matter of seconds I didn't see the group and could only notice their bubbles at the very surface. For the next 15-20 minutes I just hovered over there, careful not to hang onto the line but rather just OK around it in order not to lose it, so that Aristeo could keep his hand (it is VERY difficult to hold the line from such a depth, as the buoy really pushes it out onto the surface, but being a true macho he survived, of course, although I saw him vigorously massaging his wrist when we finally reconvened). I did see 3 eagle rays very close, right in front of my nose. I saw a giant, couch-size, grouper. I saw a nurse shark. But most of all I just enjoyed my "solo" dive on the reel line - it is a very cool feeling to be alone in the ocean. Of course, I would never feel as comfortable if I were truly alone, so I welcomed the opportunity to cheat a little feeling the safety of Aristeo's line between my fingers. When we surfaced, it turned out that a couple of minutes after I "left", 18 eagle rays came to the site, and the rest of the group (diving air) all went into decompression watching them, so it was a loooong safety stop. But, obviously, it was so worth it!


The weird consequence of the Eagle Ray City diving for me is a pressure headache that later in the day turns into a migraine. The first 3 times it happened, I was trying to convince myself it was a coincidence. But this is the 4th time on the site, and same thing. There must be something. Could it be that my beloved eagle rays exude some weird energy that my sensitive head picks up? Or maybe it's just a different dive profile that does it to me - usually, we do multi-level dives, and never stay so deep for so long? It could also potentially be the different breathing through the work-out against the current. I don't know... But it's ok, I can totally handle it. Now everybody went to dinner, and since I couldn't join due to my delicate head condition, I spent 5 hours under the villa's palapa. Alone. Not moving. My body and mind completely still. Watching the sunset, and then the night.

Day 48 - Psychedelia of San Juan

Today is just a perfect day. Sallye is here. David is the dive master and it is always fun. Including us, there were only 4 divers on the boat (vs regular 6-7), so it was very easy to make an immediate decision - we are going North! Yay! I love the South of the island, but after diving it 6 weeks in a row, at this point I'm ready to go North every day for the rest of my trip. The current is much stronger over there, and I love that. The breakfast buffet on the surface interval has fruit and yummy bacon. And it's much closer to the villa, so you're back home around noon (vs 1.30 - 2PM). Of course, I love the 45-minute boat ride to the South, but in this windy and cloudy weather it's actually more enjoyable to skip that...

Barracuda for the first dive. Awesome. And - FINALLY - hallelujah, praise the Lord - for the first time in my 6 weeks here, we go to my absolute favorite dive site on the island - reef San Juan. Last time I went here was in summer, and although I was much less "seasoned" as a diver and was constantly worried about my air consumption, buoyancy, and staying together with the group in the ripping current, I could still see the beauty of this place. So, I was not surprised that diving San Juan today turned out to be the most incredible experience EVER! The formation here is very flat, with fields of beige-colored stylophora pistillata - club finger coral and a lot of other corals and sponges of various very-very strange colors - they are not bitter bright, but kind of dimly bright - nice smudges of weird blue, weird yellow, weird bright green on this Persian carpet canvas. The reef is so psychodelic in terms of colors and shapes, and the current is so strong - it's like gliding through a painting. I actually did feel part of a painting that is being created, a moving dot ready to jump off the tip of an artist's brush onto its new perfect spot. Unbelievable sensation! No, it wasn't nitrogen narcosis. I'm pretty sure this is what pure happiness feels like.

Day 47 - Sallye is here!

Tonight the moon is gorgeous. I love how in the Caribbean you get this horizontal moon. And also how you can still see the entire moon's "silhouette". Why is it that you can look at the moon and the stars forever?

The excitement of the day is Sallye's arrival. Sallye is my diving friend. We met in Cozumel last February. She is a super experienced diver (has about 1,800 dives altogether), and a super lovely and relaxed person (and I'm not just saying this because I know she's reading my blog:)). She was on my very first resort dive last year, when we saw a beautiful eagle ray. Then, we hung out a lot in July and August, when both of us were in Cozumel for 6 weeks, 3 of them overlapping. One thing lead to another, and all of a sudden we found ourselves planning a dive trip to Turks and Caicos. And today she is flying over from Atlanta to spend 4 dive days in Cozumel and staying over with me. When I stop and think about how people become friends, the process really fascinates me. What is the recipe for friendship? What are the right ingredients and conditions for it to brew nicely? How come you hit it off with some people from day one, and can spend years side by side with others and go virtually nowhere with that? Pheromones?

Anyway, Sallye was on stand-by for a flight, so we were not sure if she was actually going to make it. But fortunately, she does. Unfortunately, her luggage doesn't (dive gear, clothes, et al). Luckily though, being a Villa Aldora's frequenter, she keeps a bag of random stuff at the villa, so she can actually get by for a couple of days. Hopefully, the bags will arrive tomorrow.

We are both excited to spend the next 4 days diving together!

Day 46 - It's a very shitty summer...

Weather in NYC today - 65 and sunny. Weather in Cozumel today - 65, windy, and raining. What is wrong with this picture???

Today, I started my hyperbaric chamber treatments. When I was here last summer with my terrible migraines, I did 20 sessions (33 feet, breathing pure oxygen for 1 hour), and it seems to have helped tremendously. So, although I almost never get excruciating headaches anymore (knock on wood), I decided to do 5 "head maintenance" sessions while I'm here now. Hyperbaric chamber is cool. Some people get claustrophobic in it, but I find it peaceful. Maybe I've just developed very warm feelings toward it, because it has helped my headaches so much. Or maybe because I spend only 1 hour there vs 5-6 hours that decompressed people have to go through. Whatever the reason, it doesn't bother me to be enclosed in it. So, here's how it works. There's always somebody in the chamber with you, in the rare case you start to have seizures or anything else goes wrong. First, during the pressure drop of 1 atmosphere ("going down" to 33 feet), you have to equalize your ears as if you were on an actual dive. Then, you put the S&M looking oxygen mask on, and enjoy the oxygen ride. No, you don't get high. It's actually pretty boring. You cannot take anything with you into the chamber, because it is a highly flammable environment, but they screen movies / TV shows on the chamber wall for your entertainment. Last summer, here's where I had my Spanish lessons - I watched Mexican soap-operas. This time, we watched some funny love advice program called "Cuenta MeLove". I'm so happy that this time I'm taking the real Spanish lessons, because now I can truly appreciate Mexican TV. And it is hysterical. Well, at least this program is. I hope I can find other episodes of it on the internet. Also, Mexican music is very entertaining in terms of unexpected lyrics. One of the songs from today's "musical pause" selection featured a pretty detailed story of several sessions from couple's therapy. Educational...

Day 45 - "Virgins take longer"

At my Spanish lesson today, we played a personality check game. In case you want to be silly and play with me as I go on with the story, I'll put the clues at the end of the post. So... I die, go to Heaven, and am greeted by the Angel at the gates. The Angel states, that this time around they only accept animals in Paradise, so I have to choose the animal I'd like to convert to and explain the reason behind my pick. I immediately answer, "A cat, because cats are independent, elegant, and have 9 lives". The Angel responds, "Excellent, but unfortunately, the cat position is already filled. Please pick another time." I say, "A fish, because fish must think a lot since they cannot talk, and they are very peaceful". The Angel replies, "Oh great pick, however, the fish position has already been filled as well. Please pick again". I go, "A bird, because they are independent, determined, and structured. But I warn you - if your bird position is filled as well, I'm turning straight to Hell." Luckily, the bird position was vacant, I was successfully converted into it, and the Angel-teacher explain to me what this whole nonsense is supposed to mean. The findings were actually pretty cool (see the bottom of the post).

Later, at the Wet Wendy's - a street bar where you can get an avocado margarita among other exotic margarita wonders - I order some yummy Argentinian empanadas and a virgin mango margarita (yes, I virtually stopped drinking - for the past 6 weeks I had a total of 1 glass of wine and 2 beers). The food comes and goes into my stomach, but there's still no drink. I don't particularly mind because of my new zen attitude to everything, but the bartender feels bad that she's been taking so long with it, and apologetically announces to the entire street, "So sorry, but you know, virgins take so much longer!" Well, I don't know if that's the case with every virgin, but my mango one was definitely worth the time.


Personality check game clues:

1st pick: the way you want to be
2nd pick: the way you are
3rd pick: the way people perceive you

Day 44 - Nostalgia in Paradise OR Thank God for Skype!

Yesterday, I dove in a cenote called Eden. This afternoon, I dove in a site named Paradise. My life here is perfect, yet I feel a little nostalgic today. I don't really miss NYC, but I do miss my friends. Especially on evenings like this, when they are hanging out together having super quality time without me. Thank God for Skype though, and for the fact that they seem to miss me too (although some may be in denial:))!

Day 43 - Cavern certified OR How to dive with a shovel

Playa at 7AM is beautiful. Nobody in the streets but occasional local early-riser at the obligatory Sunday morning cochinita pibil stand. Tourists are still asleep, and restaurants seem to be asleep with them. No buzz. No noise. A different place. I have breakfast, check out of my hotel, and back to the dive shop for Day Two of my cavern course.

Today, we are training in a beautiful cenote named Eden, the first cavern I have ever dove in, the so-called reason for this whole course. More drills in the open water. More drills in the cavern. Taking in the constructive critique of my instructor, I'm getting better and better at everything. The only little issue I still have is the light. You have to use the light to illuminate your way and communicate with your dive buddy at all times. The problem is that it is not easy to run the reel and hold the light in the same hand. My hand is just not big enough to handle it. So my light is kind of dangling from my chest illuminating the floor of the cavern. Roman - my German instructor with the same, very distict, "personality" accent, in both English and Spanish - tells me that I have to figure it out. Of course, I can always get a wrist-mount cave light like a big girl, but for now I have to make do with what I have. So I try to master this skill now. On the last dive I'm the leader of our buddy-team. I have to talk through the gear matching and dive plan prior to our descent. I have to run the reel and make sure my buddy-team is OK at all times. I have to be the donor during air sharing in "low visibility conditions". I have to assist my buddy during the emergency ascent, and go back underwater to retrieve the reel right after it. We start the dive. Everything is going perfectly. I'm super proud of myself. The cavern is gorgeous. I didn't forget to do one little thing, and my dive light is in my hand, horizontal, illuminating our way in. In my head, I'm already going over the air sharing process that is soon to come, in order not to forget any little detail (the procedure is a little different from the open water diving, so it's tough to get out of your habits). Finally, Roman signals me that he is "out of air". I get close to him, take out my regulator, and... drop the stupid light into the cavern silt! When I dive with this light in the open water, I have a little strap for it, so it always stays wrapped around my wrist. But this strap was removed as part of my equipment modification at the beginning of this course as a potential hazard of entanglement. And of course, my body didn't get a chance to get used to it yet. Anyway, the light slowly falls out of my clumsy hands, and quite literally in front of our eyes gets swallowed deeper and deeper into the silty cavern floor, now dimly shining onto the ceiling from under the mud and rock formations. After this useful lesson on the importance of redundancy in cavern diving, I retrieve my secondary light, and we proceed with our dive plan.

Upon surfacing, Roman tells me that we are going to change tanks and do a light recovery dive, because he has a feeling we might be able to get it back if we only have some mechanism to fish it out of the mud under that rocky wall. We do that. The "mechanism" he finds is... a shovel. And here comes a priceless scene: in front of a couple dozen incredulous cenote swimmers (who come here just to enjoy the lake water and turtle and little crocodiles that live in it) and at least ten other no less incredulous fellow divers, we proudly descend to the bottom of the cavern with a huge shovel. Roman tries this and that with the shovel, but nothing is working. So now he gives it to me to hold and tries to go into the tiny narrow passageways in between the rocks. I hover above him with a shovel, very nervous because what he's doing is really scary and I feel like any second now I will have to swim back with the stupid shovel for a rescue mission because he will certainly be trapped in between the rocks. But all turns out well. I mean, Roman stays untrapped, though the light recovery mission fails. It will now burn its batteries out for however long their life is, illuminating the ceiling of Eden. I take comfort in the fact that at least my light didn't go to hell.

Then, the final exam, and I'm officially cavern certified and home-free!

On my way back to Cozumel, while I have to wait for a ferry for an hour once again (this time because I miss the one I wanted to catch by literally one minute - oh well, who cares, I'm on Mexican time, I have it all), all of a sudden I get inspired to scetch (!!!) a sailboat that is anchored right in front of me. What is happning to me? Last time I drew something was in elementary school and I hated it, and now this is how I choose to kill an hour? What? Wow...