Charlotte is Born Part One

Sami woke me up early Sunday morning, before sunrise, with what I thought was bad news. She sat in the dark on the edge of her bed and explained to me that she had lost her mucous plug. Having no idea what this meant, I took her quiet confusion as a sign that something was wrong with our baby. The due date was still a month and two days away. She researched a few things online, told me everything was fine and then I went back to sleep.

We took it pretty easy that day, chatting with my parents and one of Sami's friends on Skype. The day before we took the subway deep into Seoul for Sami's acupuncture appointment and later we ate dinner at her favorite Korean restaurant to celebrate her birthday from earlier in the week. At 10 o'clock at night, I was surprised when Sami came into the room I was reading and got on the computer. She said that she couldn't sleep for whatever reason, which was completely abnormal as she is usually out without a problem by 8:30 or 9. She went back to bed, and at some point, I tried to download a movie- a documentary about Joan Rivers. Like most people, I have a difficult time falling asleep Sunday nights with the impending work week looming ahead, and I knew that the documentary was well received.

Before I could start the movie, however, Sami rushed in and exclaimed that her water broke (or, to be more PC- "her membranes released"). The shorts she had been wearing were soaked and she left a trail of amniotic fluid oh her way to the bed. She calmly but assertively explained to me that this was a sign that the baby would be born in 24 to 48 hours. I got her the phone so that she could call our doula who was on vacation in Canada, and started to back our bags for the hospital.

All along Sami had a feeling the baby would be early. We were both surprised by the original due date given after the baby's first ultrasound, thinking that it should have been earlier. Sami was also concerned about how tight her belly had become even with five weeks to go, and she experienced contractions (or "surges" to again use the PC term) every night. We both openly wished for her to come early and alleviate any possible complications in trying to get her out of the country and remain on the national insurance plan before our contracts wore out at the end of August. Of course, we still weren't prepared for this early.

Not long ago, we had made the decision to have the baby in a birthing center with a midwife we liked and trusted. However, we knew that the midwife seldom took mothers that were less than 37 weeks along, and when Sami talked to her, she said that she would like for us to go to a hospital first, and if they said it was ok, then we could go to the birthing center.

As Sami calmly talked things out alternately with our doula in Canada, the back-up doula in Korea, and the midwife, I frantically scrambled to find items listed in the "what to pack" section of the baby book. Luckily, Sami had already packed a bag for the baby (like I said, she had a feeling she was going to be early) so all I had to do was pack a bag for us. I got all of the clothes and I knew that we had to have snacks on hand. We hadn't gone grocery shopping like we had planned to that weekend, but we did make it to Costco a few days prior so all that was on hand were American comfort food stand-bys such as plain and blueberry bagels which I toasted, schmeared, and wrapped in aluminum foil, some cheddar cheese, barbecue pop chips (which by this point I was growing sick of because the salty yet delicious seasoning was rubbing my tongue raw) and a bag of granola.

I thought I was doing pretty well until I came across a curious item on the list. It called for a hot water bottle, or raw rice wrapped in a sock as an alternative. Strangely enough, I did have a sock full of rice around from when I was going through a bout of knee soreness earlier in the summer. The book said to microwave it for 3 to five minutes. In hindsight, I should have realized that it was way to early to microwave the rice, and that it wouldn't keep the heat by the time we got to the hospital. Sami was in no visible pain now and wouldn't be needing it. Still, I popped it in for five and of course, after about three and a half minutes, it started to smoke up the apartment. I took it out with a pair of tongs, dropped it in the sink and ran cold water over it which unleashed a heavy plume of acrid steam.

Here is the sock I burned

At 11:40 I sent an e-mail to my co-worker explaining what had happened and that I would not be in school tomorrow, and probably not Tuesday either. Soon after we were out the door with a backpack full of overnight stuff, a bag of snacks and the baby bag. I wanted to grab an umbrella, but Sami said no let's go. It was dark and quiet outside and usually there is a row of taxis that line the street outside our apartment. It is kind of like their hang out place where they smoke cigs and drink heavily sugared cups of coffee out of the 400 wan (40 cent) machine. At this moment, however, they were nowhere to be found and we had to walk an extra 10 minutes up the the busier area of town near the train station. We eventually found a taxi, and to show you what prudes we are, I have to explain that our biggest apprehension was that he wouldn't take a credit card. Here we are in the year 2011, and Sami and I are paying for everything in cash. The driver did take plastic, but he wasn't too friendly, even for a Korean taxi cab driver. Also, it started to rain a little bit on the drive and I was thinking I knew that we should have grabbed those umbrellas.

We got to the hospital at 12:30 am. First we went to the emergency room and they re-directed us to the Maternal and Child Health Center across the parking lot. We met Stacy, the back-up doula on the walk to the parking lot and then went in the the examination room where a young intern told us that Sami was 4cm dilated. I guess we wouldn't be transferring anywhere tonight. In our minds, we were half way to being parents already.

Chungcheongbuk-do Part One

On Tuesday I celebrated the start of summer break by joining my fellow Guji Elementary school faculty and staff members on an overnight trip to Chungcheongbuk-do Province. Chungcheongbuk-do is south of Gyeonggi-do, and is the only landlocked province in South Korea. I have tried my best to remember the names of the places and towns we visited on the trip, but it hasn't been easy, and I may mess up here or there. One thing I won't forget is what a great send off it was for me, as I prepare to reassimilate to the states in a few weeks' time. The weather was perfect (after weeks of hot, endless rain), the food was incredible and the people, of course, are unforgettable.

The first restaurant we stopped at for lunch was the only place I didn't take pictures of. I regretted leaving my camera on the bus when I saw the spread of food the ajumas brought out. Korean cuisine is famous for its banchan (side dishes), but this was overkill. They actually brought out table tops loaded with dozens of communal plates that they slid onto the empty tables we occupied. It was crazy watching them skillfully maneuver the carts used to wheel the tops. The meal was great- whole fish prepared two ways, pork belly, tofu soups and kimchi galore, but I can't help but pity the person responsible for washing all those tiny dishes.

It wasn't too long after we got back on the bus that our vice principal queued up the karaoke machine. Actually, it started when one of the teachers in charge of the logistics of the trip (the youngest or rookie teachers) came up to me and asked me to pick a song to sing. I thought that I could get out of it by saying that I was shy, but it didn't work. Eventually, I had to step up and belt out some Peter Frampton. Karaoke is funny here, everyone just steps up to the plate and does it. The best singers usually make a show like: "no, no, not me, I am no good." and then they step up and just kill like an Asian Tom Jones or Tina Turner.

Here is my VP up at the front of the bus getting the karaoke started. The best part is the images they show on the screen that have absolutely nothing to do with the words the scroll below. Sometimes during a soft love song you will get images of a car chase scene or something. No one seems to mind.

Our first destination was a ferry boat tour of what I believe was Chungjuho Lake. On the loading dock, I teased my friend Kwan Yang about his lack of a girlfriend, and when I saw one particularly attractive young female with a fat boyfriend, I told him that there is still hope for someone as pudgy as himself. It is nice to be able to joke around with someone, even if they don't completely get what you are saying. Anyway, here are some pics from the ride:

The weather was so nice that most people went out on the narrow deck to observe and take pictures. This was taken when the captain was making his announcement which of course, I understood none of.

Our next stop was to Gosudonggul Cave. This incredible cave is located near the film site of one Korea's most popular historical dramas. There is a huge set that looks just like one of the palaces in Seoul or Gyeonngju, but we walked right passed it to the entrance of the cave where we put on our hard hats. In the last year, I have visited some incredible caves, and they never cease to fascinate me. This one didn't have any bats, but I will always remember how cramped some of the tunnels were.

Walking down to the rack of hard hats which saved my dome more than once inside the cave that featured clearings less than three feet high. You can see the entrance of the cave off to the left in this picture.

More than any cave I have explored in the past year, this one had a solidly built walkway and hand rails. It even had this glass roof over a portion of the cave that receives continuous drippage from above.

After the cave, our next stop was to be the Guinsa Temple at Sobaeksan Mountains. We ate lunch earlier than normal and it became clear that with our pace and agenda, dinner would be late, so someone passed out ears of corn that they purchased from a streetside vendor. I had only tried Korean corn once, and it was gummy and I hated it, but the second time wasn't so bad. I think it is gummy because they steam the hell out of it.

At the temple I walked for a ways with my vice principal who saw a sign offering help to English speakers. I went inside and got set up with a personal tour guide- a young man from Ulsan. He told me of his plans to open a private English academy in Ulsan and said that the reason he visited the temple all the way up here was to pray for the future success of his new business. He is a Buddist of the Cheontae Order. The only thing I learned about that particular branch Of Buddhism is that female monks do not have to shave their heads. My tour was cut short when my vice principal said that we only had five minutes to get back to the bus, so my new friend kindly game me an English book with all sorts of info about the temple.

My tour guide was nice, but he insisted on having me pose for a picture on this spot. I tried to convey my thoughts on the unattractiveness of the construction site, but relented anyway.

At sunset we stopped off for dinner and a karaoke contest. The beers and soju started flowing at dinner, and I was asked to be a judge. Tipsy and clueless as to what constitutes a good Korean singer, I gave arbitrary scores- 99.876 and 99.875 for example. I did give out a 100 and a 101 to a couple of my favorite teachers, but it had nothing to do with their singing ability. Later, awards were given for the highest scores and for the worst singers as well.

Instead of sitting on the floor, we used these bad boys.

A spicy fish soup which was quite tasty.

My scorecard

Some panties were given out as awards. I have no idea why, but it was funny.

After the awards had been handed out half of the teachers took a bus home while the rest drove to the spot we would be staying for the night. We got to the "pension" which is what they call the outdoor sort of hotels or cabins in the countryside here after 10 or so. We six men had our own cabin and got started taking showers and watching baseball highlights. I didn't really feel the need to shower, but didn't want them thinking that all Americans are dirty slops, so I obliged. Then we met up with some other teachers and drank into the night. I used an excuse to sneak out early when my bedtime was near. I knew that the rest of the crew would be up until 3:30, but that just isn't in this old man's arsenal anymore. I was told I stayed up until after 2 in the morning, but I think they were just being nice.

The cabin the boys stayed in

Upstairs loft

Teacher party

I was proud to see that someone brought a bottle of wine from my neck of the woods. However, when I explained that I live near this vineyard, no one was that impressed. Also, the picture quality is terrible because I was good and drunk by this point.

Click Here for Part Two 

A Less Cynical Reflection of Teaching in Korea

I woke up this morning at 5:30. For the last couple of months the baby seems to sleep when I go to bed, but she usually starts moving at around 5 am making sleep impossible. I always start my morning the same way: breakfast, e-mail, stretching, and then a shower. This morning I decided to see if Joe had written a blog last night. He said he wasn’t going to, but sometimes he changes his mind. As I read through his extremely cynical, borderline angry blog entry, it was evident that this semester hasn’t been the most enjoyable for him. I believe over time he will forget the negative experiences he had solely teaching 6^th grade this semester, mostly without a co-teacher, but for now they are still fresh in his mind.

Though Joe is finished teaching, I still have 2 days to go. Unlike Joe, I teach 1^st-6^th grade. This means a lot more lesson planning, but I only see each class 1 time per week. I realized at the start of this semester that I have now taught every age of student except for kindergarten. Pretty crazy considering I have only been teaching for 6 years! Technically I have been a part of three school years in Korea despite only being here two years (school years starts in March and we came here in August). I have watched my little 3^rd graders become 5^th graders, and my 4^th graders become 6^th graders.

Something happens to 6^th grade students in Korea. They go from being completely wonderful as 5^th graders to almost impossible to like (hence the tone of Joe’s blog…) I finished teaching my 6^th grade students this morning. The experience was completely underwhelming. A few students said goodbye, but for the most part there was no acknowledgement that I was leaving the school after teaching them for 2 years.

I also finished teaching my 5^th grade students today. I have a special bond with the 5^th grade students because I taught them this semester without a co-teacher. Their homeroom teachers usually stayed in the classroom to help me with classroom management and the language barrier, ensuring that their behavior was impeccable. I said goodbye to my first 3 classes of 5^th graders last Friday. They were shocked to find out that I was going home, and many students gave me letters or cards to say goodbye. The goodbyes commenced today as I said goodbye to my least favorite and favorite 5^th grade classes. I arrived today ready to teach the 5-6 class, without a doubt the worst class I have ever taught, to find that they had all written me goodbye letters or cards. After they presented them to me, their homeroom teacher told me to, “Go take a rest.” I dreaded teaching them every week, so I am glad I have a positive final memory of that class.

However, without a doubt I had one of the most special moments of my teaching career when I taught the 5-5 class today. We started with a quick warm-up reviewing the songs, chants, and vocabulary we learned this semester. My plan after that was to watch excerpts from Mr. Bean. Korean children absolutely LOVE Mr. Bean. They laugh hysterically (to be honest, I do too), so I figured it would be a great way to end the school year. About 10 minutes before the end of class, one of my students approached me and said, “Sorry teacher. We stop the movie now.” I quickly made my way to the computer and stopped the DVD. All of the students were tittering excitedly, so I knew they had something planned. As 1 student navigated the Korean version of youtube, the rest of the class started passing forward letters and cards. One even included a gift from a boy consisting of a used glue stick and 100 won coin (the equivalent of about 10 cents). Once they found the right website, the classroom erupted into 30+ Korean children singing along with a music video in Korean. In addition to serenading me, they had also choreographed a dance consisting of mainly arm movements that the entire class participated in performing. As I looked around the classroom many students busted out signs that said, “We love you,” “Good bye,” and “We’ll miss you!” Those who know me well know that I rarely cry for sentimental reasons, but I fully admit that I had tears in my eyes. As the song came to an end, I was at a loss for words (not necessarily a bad thing when no one can understand much of what you say anyway). I thanked them, told them I would miss them, and then waved goodbye as I left their classroom for the last time. I feel so blessed to have had such a special moment.

As I reflect on the experience of teaching in Korea for the last two years, there is no doubt in my mind that it has been completely transformational. Despite the daily challenges of living in a foreign country, I know that this experience has helped our marriage get off to a solid start, and I am a better (and much more relaxed) person as a result of my experiences. While I am excited for the next chapter of our life to begin, I am so happy that Joe and I got to have this experience together.

Now, for your entertainment, I typed up my favorite quotes from the different letters I received.

- Congratulations! I heard you are having a baby!

- I heard the news, I am so surprise. Teacher, I think you will have a pretty baby. Good bye teacher!

- I’m sorry to hear that you have to go back to your country. After giving birth, please come back to Mi-geum school.

- I love you and your baby cute.

- One student gave me a card that simply said “Goob” (goodbye)

- Congratulations! Because you has baby. Baby will be very cute. I’m so happy you teach we. Teacher! You lay after! You have to come in Korea. Okay?

- Chear up I will miss you

- Teacher baby very good!

- Goodbye. Where are you going?

- I wish teacher and baby will healthy and baby grow kind and handsome or pretty.

- I like you. You like me? You are very beautiful. Me too.

- How are you today? I’m fine thank you and you? Do you like banana? I’m yes I do. Good bye!

Teaching

Today was my last day being a fake elementary school teacher. Actually, I have to teach three weeks of half-day English camps starting Thursday, but for all intents and purposes, I am done-zo. All things considered, I shouldn't really complain, but that doesn't mean I won't. Let's just start off by saying I am going to miss my school lunches ten times more than any of the students.

When my wife talked me into teaching English in Korea, the actual work was an afterthought. Getting away from the stresses of life at home and the opportunity to travel were what sold me on the experience. Yeah, I knew I was going to be spending the majority of my time in a classroom, but I'd have a co-teacher to translate, and the subject matter is so simple I figured I wouldn't have to worry about prep-time.

In hindsight, the first year moved along rather smoothly. I taught 3rd and 5th graders that were eager to learn and I had a co-teacher that was a true disciplinarian. My contract started at the end of the first semester, which meant I only had half a year with these particular students before they moved on. The next year's 5th graders sucked. Individually, they are all nice kids, but together they are satan's bastards. They were even worse as 6th graders and, as luck would have it, I was informed by my Vice Principal at the end of the year that I would be teaching 6th grade exclusively. Also, they will have English three days a week instead of two. Also, I was assigned a new co-teacher who left me alone 95 percent of the time.

As I said, individually the kids are great and there are a few really good ones- maybe two or three in each class. But teaching sucks and here are five reasons why: (note: I am only talking about teaching ESL in Korea- and my opinion is probably skewed because I don't like kids as much as some others might and like I said, I taught only 6th graders who were the highest grade in the school and thought they were badasses- 3rd, 4th and even 5th are great)

1. They never stop hitting each other. And not just the boys either. Boys hit girls, girls hit girls, girls hit boys and boys hit boys. Mostly hard, open handed slaps to the back and punches to the arm. It takes all I have not to throw my weight around in the mix. In the states, if you hit a girl you would be in big trouble. KEEP YOUR GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING HANDS TO YOURSELVES!!!

2. The students never shut up. They can't even shut up during silent ball. They just don't get it. The only time I have ever had complete silence is after I have lost it and screamed at the top of my lungs. I felt a little ashamed after and went outside to cool off, but when I came back in the room you could have heard a mosquito fart. IT WAS BLISS.

3. Korea has a messed up private academy system where parents who can afford it send their kids to hours and hours of extra schooling. That along with students who have parent that speak English or have spent time abroad created a huge learning gap. I have students that can read Shakespeare (ok not really, but maybe J.K. Rowling), and students unfamiliar with the alphabet.

4. God, I hate it when they look over my shoulder at my computer screen before class starts. YES, SO MANY WORDS IN ENGRISH-EY OOOOH FASCINATING!!!

5. Even after two years, students still shit their pants when they see me walking to school or in the hallway. YES, I AM WHITE AND NO I AM NOT GOING TO EAT YOU. Unless you peer over my shoulder at the computer screen that is.

So yeah, I guess it is a good thing that today was my last day. For the sake of my health and the students' safety.

Bali Part One

The Korean school schedule is a little wacky. They have winter break the last week of December and all of January, then a week long holiday the first week of February, back for two weeks and then another week off for the end of the year before starting right back up again March 1st. We took advantage of the random week off by sneaking away to Bali. We bought the tickets before we asked for permission from our schools and way before we found out we were pregnant. It was a gamble that paid off (tickets were only $325 roundtrip), but because of Sami's state which alternated between exhaustion and nauseousness, we opted to stay low-key and relaxed most of the week away.

While Sami napped in our king sized bed, A/C full blast, I watched college basketball re-runs on tv and even found the NBA all-star game streaming online. We spent a lot of time at the hotel pool, trying to make myself believe that I am capable of tanning while wearing 50 spf sunscreen. At night I sat out on the balcony, calmed by the heavy rain and distant thunderstorms that occurred almost nightly. We had a weak wireless connection on the balcony, so I caught up on some of the movies that were nominated for Oscars. "Winter's Bone" was one that I really enjoyed.

Here is where I spent most of my evenings while Sami went to bed at 7:30. Notice the mosquito repellant. An absolute must.

 Most days we walked down to the beach and ate at one of the seemingly identical restaurants that line the strip. The food wasn't super cheap, but reasonable. Neither of us could find the one thing we were looking for- I for something authentic (I still don't think I know what sambal is even though I know I had it), and Sami for something that wouldn't make her puke. At least the scenery was incredible. There was a big wedding chapel along the strip we walked each day and it featured a giant glass house in the shape of an engagement diamond. It was incredibly tacky and out of place, but then again, the giant lobster stone carving didn't seem completely natural either.

Last Moments in Palawan

We planned to take a night firefly watching excursion on the Iwahig River the day we lounged and picnicked at Estrella Falls, but for whatever reason, there was a delay with the family who runs the tours so we were content to sit on one of the picnic benches overlooking the dock and mix 30 cent pints of Tanduay Rhum with Coca-Cola or pineapple juice. When it got to be too late, we all decided to head back into Puerto Princessa for the night and try again after we got back from El Nido.

It was well into dark when we arrived and divided into two canoes. The boys- Tor, Ben and myself occupied one canoe and the girls- Becky, Alicia and Sami followed in another. We were surprised to find that our young Filipino guide was a volunteer, and received no pay. His knowledge of fireflies and the surrounding area was impressive. Among the tidbits that I did not forget was the fact male fireflies flash while flying and females flash while perched. I had expected the fireflies to cover the area in a green glow, but actually, all of the fireflies hung out on a certain type of tree along the bank, and lit them up like they were covered in tiny white Christmas lights. We could also see glowing green plants in the water below. The plankton became a scurrying green fuzz when we slapped the water with out paddles. Our guide was not all business however. When we told him that we lived in Korea he eagerly offered up his opinion of Korean women. "They're hot," he said.

On a more serious note, he did inform us that the river we floated on so peacefully gazing at translucent bugs was the escape route of the few American World War II POWs who escaped their Japanese captors in what became known as "The Palawan Massacre."

Original gate of the Japanese POW camp that was the site of "The Palawan Massacre"

In December 1944, Japanese guards, believing that enemy aircraft was heading for Palawan, ordered the POWs into air shelters, which they soon doused with gasoline and lit on fire. Only 11 POWs escaped and made for the river, while the rest were shot, clubbed, gunned, bayoneted or decapitated as they ran engulfed in flames.

Monument to the fallen POWs

On our last day in The Philippines, Sami and I visited the location for the former POW camp and the site of the massacre. The memorial itself was a harsh statue of a malnourished POW in horrific agony. There was a church nearby the park where the memorial to the POWs stood. The church was big and quiet and we took shelter inside as it started to rain harder. We tried to wait out the storm, but it never subsided so I hailed a covered motor scooter back to the Hibiscus Garden Inn.

We had some time to use up after check-out and the staff there was kind enough to let us sit under the cover of the thatched roof restaurant as it poured. The rain was violent and unforgiving. The timing of the monsoon had me believing that God wishes to extinguish any memory of the horrors that took place at the POW camp up the road. The rain also signified the end of our Southeast Asia vacation. A vacation that brought us to WWII POW camps in The Philippines and Thailand, to torture prisons and mass graves of genocide in Cambodia, to Vietnam War battlefields, to Muay Thai kickboxing arenas, to the embalmed body of Ho Chi Minh, and to a foggy pirate boat tour of Ha Long Bay, where a dozen tourists would drown just weeks later. Yes, the rain felt quite an appropriate end to our journey, and I snapped final pictures of the weather beaten, mysterious and yet not out-of-place wood carvings that made their home at the Hibiscus Garden Inn. And then we loaded our bags and drove to the airport.

Hibiscus Garden Inn, Puerto Princessa, Palawan

In this picture of the courtyard, you may be able to see how heavy the rain fell.

July 11th

They tell you to try your best to remember all you can of your wedding day. The day goes by so fast that it is impossible to recall every minor detail. Funny, but it is the minor details that stick out the most, especially those leading up to the ceremony and reception, before scotch and sleepiness stole recollections of the rest.

The ceremony and reception was held on Sami's mom and stepfather's property. Their neighbor friends let me shower beforehand at their house and it was one of those nice showers with natural light from the surrounding forest engulfing the room in calm whiteness. It had stone floors and a glass encasement, and for the first time in days, I felt peaceful. My groomsman got ready across town in a friend's piss-stained tub/shower combo.

One of my groomsmen and I played ping pong while waiting for the photographer. I lost even though I am pretty sure he was trying to let me win. Since I have started playing more here in Korea, I realize that I needed to crouch down more and finish my follow through with the side of the paddle up between my eyes. When everyone was tuxed and ready, we took shots of jaeger bombs. My dad had one and he thought it was pretty tasty. When we got to the site we were all shocked to see that the bridesmaids had polished off their own half gallon of jaeger (compared to our fifth) and more than a few bottles of wine.

Sami and I opted to have pictures taken before the ceremony, so we posed for what seemed like hours as guests arrived. I admit to being a little cranky through the process as well as dehydrated. When we all gathered to prepare for the walk, I felt hungover, and needed to pound a bottle of water.


I was the first to arrive at the designated spot and Sami was the last. I had chided her for choosing a Celine Dion song, but when I saw her and her dad walking down, I got a little choked up. Apparently, my emotions started a chain reaction and in later pictures you can see my sister and other bridesmaids misting up as well. Months of wedding planning cannot prepare a man for that moment.


Tomorrow is our two year anniversary, and as we sat together this evening and felt the baby stretch and turn inside her belly, we reflected on married life to date. It hasn't always been easy. Six weeks after our wedding we moved to Korea, away from family, friends and distractions. We were all we had and it was not easy at first. It was a frustrating feeling of powerlessness to be an outsider, with so many accepted freedoms gone. I admit that I was not the easiest to live with that first week. However, over time we grew even closer, we became a team and a support system. We became self-sufficient, we created a plan for our future and started a family. I couldn't imagine life without her. She is the strongest, most intelligent and supportive woman I know and I am trying my best to recall every minor detail of every day with her.


Happy Anniversary.

El Nido (Part Two)

The sky was overcast and needle rain fell in harmless intervals during most of our two and a half days in El Nido. Either the weather or a vain attempt to hide her noticeable-only-to-her two month pregnant belly kept Sami out of the water on our second, and more noteworthy snorkeling excursion.

We were joined on our day trip by a skinny young Englishman with bad teeth (clearly habitual smoking induced and in no way a stereotypical British hygiene jab), a young and worldly Dutch woman who used a British accent when addressing said Englishman, a fat and handsy Italian couple, a slim couple of undetermined origin, and a big Italian woman with a fancy underwater camera. (as a side note, we sometimes watch Kathy Lee and Hoda in the mornings, and not too long ago they mentioned a survey that showed the first thing women registered when seeing another woman for the first time was her weight. So based on my introduction of out shipmates, the moral of the story is I am a judgmental woman.)

The horny Italian couple wore custom flippers and facemasks which led me to believe that maybe they had a thing for fish voyerism. She wore bikini bottoms that left a large crescent of ass on both sides, and they stole off to steal kisses at every opportunity. I glided partnerless at a safe distance trying to find Nemo. When I pulled myself up onto the boat heavy and awkward with my fins, I was surprised to see the thin European woman topless. Sami later explained to me that it was smart of her to change into a dry top out of the water and shield herself from chills. I turned my head embarrassingly, and later wondered if some of this European modesty had rubbed off on my wife.

The snorkeling was incredible, despite the weather, but without a proper waterproof camera, the images are left fading in my memory. There was a secret beach we were led to through a cavernous opening in one of the countless floating limestone jungle mountains. What seemed like hundreds of snorkelers brought in from similar boats swam through and marveled at the natural wonder. The large group, which fought feverishly for real estate away from rocks and coral, took away from the serenity of the setting.

Later on we frog paddled to a similar setting that existed just fine alone for thousands of years before gangly schools of aliens started appearing like clockwork in the afternoon, bloated, hunter orange vested torsos with giant bug eyes and curled upper lips.We floated in ankle deep water and tried our best to avoid choral scrapings. While colorful fish paced nervously in droves, one badass black one propelled right toward my facemask. Anyone who reads this blog is by now familiar with my aversion to/fascination with small creatures such as mice, rats, bats, spiders and snakes. I did not anticipate adding small tropical fish to that list, but when he torpedoed at me, I flailed and shrieked, releasing air bubbles and banging choral in the process. I fared better when the big Italian woman from our boat pointed out a sea snake. Black and blue, it came up for air periodically, and I was one of the few to catch a glimpse. While I managed to avoid any contact with what I later learned to be one of the most poisonous snakes in the world, I did get sideswiped and bitten by the little torpedo fish on the way back tot he boat.

At one point we beached and were served lunch. There was enough for everyone in our posse to have one whole small fire grilled tuna and a skewer of chicken pieces. The female half of the horny Italian couple took two chickens instead of the one fish, leaving the topless Euro with none. I gladly would have taken two fish to even the numbers for her, had I gone first. The chicken was fatty but the tuna was bomb.

We laid in the sand as light rain fell and tried to shed our open book pages from the drops. One thing I've known for a long time, but always seem to ignore, is that you can get sunburned in overcast skies, especially being as close to the equator as we were. I wore a cutoff shirt the day before, which left me with pink arms and a white belly. Sami, had a less visible problem. She really had to pee. I was unsympathetic to her plight, having relieved myself multiple times out in the discreet South China Sea. However, she made me her culprit by handing me the camera and instructing me to snap pictures of her waist deep in the ocean. Apparently, she thought that this act of tourism would disguise her true motive of dirtying the water with warm urine. I guess the Euro modesty didn't change her after all.

Our boat

Lunch on the beach

Sunburned arms and a white belly