One, if you’re reading this because HorseNation led you here, you will find little about horses in the recent postings. However, please feel free to scroll down to the bottom of the page and scroll through the “horse” categories. I’ll be back to the equine world early next week.
Two, there is a swan sculpted out of bath towels sitting on the sofa next to me, watching over my shoulder…of sorts. None of us have the heart to unfold it. The cleaning lady for this time share is pretty great.
We drove to George Town this evening to go on night dive in a submarine…an interesting trip, to say the least; there were certainly some cool things to see and it was worth the time to go over and give it a try. Before the tender boat was ready to let us board, we sat on the pier to kill some time, watching the colors of the sunset fade from the sky as little crabs sidestepped back and forth from the stone to the pier and down the other side again. Just across the harbor was a loading dock to prepare the big cargo ships–the cranes were working constantly, lowering enormous boxcars onto a barge that we presumed was destined to ferry goods to the large hauler sitting further out in the bay, all illuminated, lights dancing on the water as the sky faded from pink to dark blue to black. There was a certain gritty romance to whole scene–perhaps I mix “romance” here with “novelty.” The streets of George Town were busy at sunset, having a weird feel of old and new blended together; shops and restaurants were crowded close together but offered the best of everything in the world. The tall bank buildings overshadowed everything but chickens still pecked their way across the parking lots. Overall, I much prefer the quiet East End on the opposite side of the island, facing into the winds and lacking the traffic and tourists of George Town…but it was nice for a visit.
On the boat ride back from the submarine to the pier, I sat in the front of the boat and let the warm evening breeze play across my limbs, reflecting on the day in images and ideas. Kicking in slow laps around a pool all loaded up with dive gear, getting the OK symbol, a handshake and silent applause from Shaggy my dive instructor, taking a giant-step-entry into the warm Caribbean waters to slowly descend the guide rope to the sea floor, slowly traversing up and down over enormous coral heads, a pair of Christmas tree worms that vanished in a second when Shaggy pointed them out, looking up to the sun-dappled surface two dozen feet above and waving at a snorkeler over my head, watching lazy columns of tiny fish suspended in the water over coral heads circling slowly in the sun-warmed water, sitting on top of the boat and letting the Caribbean breeze dry my hair after my first successful dive, our new friend Andy zipping out on a waverunner like a demented honor guard crashing (literally) over the waves and finally peeling off back to the beach with a salute, one hand on the throttle, ending the day on the beach balanced on a hull of a tiny catamaran, my toes in the sand looking over the blue water that’s embraced me day after day.
I think I’m starting to like it here.