Scuba diving

Tonsai (the small climbing town on Railay Peninsula) has that certain intangible something; that something that makes a town feel familiar; that certain something that makes it feel like home. Ms. Golightly said "Home is where you feel at home darling." and I almost took it to heart. The town of Tonsai has an unparalelled level of unity within it. Unity born form a common interst in climbing and mutual respect for other climbers. There is little difference between locals and travelers there because most of the later become the former, for at least a few months, and that fact doesn't strike me as unusual at all because, if the dive trip hadn't pulled us away, I would have just started paying the monthly rate like everyone else.

Paasook, the restaurant next to our bungalow became Brittany and my goto dinner spot. There is just something in the spirit of the place. That spirit carries an inviting ambiance, and Dip, the manager, had an amicable laugh that was so warm and personal, that it made the tacky motif easy to excuse. Paasook had 5 star resort food, 5 star resort staff, fast food chain prices and still managed to offer an at home vibe. (They also made the best fruit shakes I have ever tasted.) Each night Brittany and I would say that we were heading out the next morning; explain that we were actually leaving this time, and we would say our goodbyes but on four separate occasions we failed to leave, so with a sheepish walk back into Paasook each following evening we were inevitably greeted by Dip's familiar, amicable lough. "Not leave yet?" giggling inquiries always followed. When we finally did leave, I found myself wondering how long I would have stayed if I was still the climber I once was.(Yeah, I am a has been climber, so what want to fight about it.) But even now, if I hadn't fallen into old patterns gotten myself injured back in December, Tonsai would have been next to impossible to leave. If Scuba diving hadn't still been on the list, I'd probably still be there.

Scuba diving... It is another one of those topics that I am almost scared to sit down and write about. The task of describing an experience of that intensity is daunting. By calling it intense I don't mean to imply that it is extreme though. It isn't in any way. It is actually quite peaceful, but taking it all in, or at least trying to is extreme. It is so exterm it becomes consuming. Diving brings with it enough sensory stimulation to cause a seizure, but between the Channel Islands and Thailand I have done over 10 dives now and I have yet to finish one that I don't absolutely love; that is the beauty of diving though. You are interacting with a world so unfamiliar, so exotic, so mesmerizing that it implores you to forget yourself. It demands that you let go and in the release it evokes child like giggle fits. Giggling however, is next to impossible with a regulator in. Choking back the giggles is enough to make you scream, but you can't do that either, so there is nothing to do but ball up all the emotion and wait.

At perfect buoyancy, water feels as I imagine space would. Without the slightest exertion, you hang motionless and float through turquoise emptiness. But the water is far from empty. The reef, and the vibrant life all around it it, is a celebration of color, and tranquil chaos is offered in the silent movement of marine life. For an hour I tried to yell tried to make everyone see what I was, tried to express with my hands what could not be said out loud. By the end I was ready to burst, and as soon as I hit the surface I did. "Holy shit, I cant believe we saw a lion fish, a sea snake and sharks, and did you see that eel, my favorite were still the sharks, but those jelly fish were crazy and that was the biggest barracuda ever. I saw 3 Nemo fish in the soft coral. I think the soft coral is my favorite. My favorite of the coral I mean, because the sharks are still my favorite..." It goes on like this, with the joyous rant broken only by the waves that turn words into inaudible bubbles. My tongue eventually tired, but two days later my mind still races when I think about diving.