Although, I did scream once, causing The Mister to have a panic attack and our driver to come running because they both thought I was being attacked by a big sea monster. Turns out, I had dropped my mask in the process of trying to reattach my flipper strap, and I had drifted into the very-near-and-frightening vicinity of fire coral. If you are not familiar with marine life, fire coral is a very uncomfortable thing to come in contact with, much like the back of a Volkswagen. I tried to call for The Mister to help me, but he couldn’t hear me from across the water. As I drifted closer and closer to the fire coral, I became really afraid. My voice became shrill and loud – I guess, much like a scream. The Mister had experienced a not so great thing in the big blue when he was a teenager. Ever since, it has been a source of great fear for him to go into the open water any deeper than his knees. When I screamed, he was filled with terror. He had Lola at his side. Should he abandon her to “rescue” me? Should he drag Lola through the water as he swam as fast as could to be at my side? He obviously became very angry when he saw that I wasn’t actively being chewed on by a shark, and ordered us all out of the water. We proceeded to have a fairly lengthy silent row with a lot of tightly clamped mouths (the kind that turns my lips into a straight line, and causes my chin to bunch out in an attractive fashion) and our arms folded defiantly across our bellies. I maturely entertained the thought that our vacation was RUINED for GOOD, until I decided that I was going back in to look for my fallen mask. Not long later, I signaled towards the shore that, yes, I had located it; patiently, it waited, tucked between two rocks. It was too far out of reach, but I remembered that Charlie had found a make-shift fish hook. By the time I made it back to shore, Charlie was waiting with a long stick that he and The Mister had tied to the fish hook. Great minds think alike. I swam back to where I had found the mask and with much grace and skill (I have the video proof to disprove that statement), dove down to retrieve my lost mask. I rose triumphant.
I wasn’t the only triumpher in the family, however. There are two “mountains” or large boulder-like mounds, side by side close to where we parked our bottoms. The trauma of my non-shark attack had worn off and the thermos of sweet tea had smoothed over any wounds, so The Mister and the fruits of our love made their way to the rock mountains for a mountain climbing excursion.
And the second one (that looks a lot like the first one, but trust me, it’s a totally and completely separate mountain rock)
I wonder if I can submit these photos to our support teacher and have the children fulfill some of their physical education learning outcomes. Mountain climbing Grade 1. Check. And. Done.
And me? I made sure that the thermos of tea didn’t get lonely and neglected.
I also protected our snorkeling gear from being stolen by the locals: