Swimming with Sharks

It´s Sunday, so teaching isn´t until tomorrow. Spending all day on a dingy off the coast of St Cristobal is not a bad second choice. We sped 30-40 km around the west coast of the island and stopped to snorkel along the way.

We approached the rock called Sleeping Lion or the Kicker (depending on from where you view it), my heart racing because Jesse and Manolo say we have the option to swim with vegetarian sharks today.

I don´t know what didn´t stop me from jumping in the water to swim through the narrow crevice of the giant sea-stranded rocks, a craggy, sunny perch for Lobos (sea lions), Boobies, and iguanas. In the cold waters swishing through the tunnel we couldn´t see the sea floor. There was a metropolis below to which we did not belong only visible if we stopped to study the depths. From meters below our fins, the figure I knew well from aquariums and nature shows: the unmistakable confident and leathery sway of grey sharks. They were distinct only when still . . . and near.

They were not occupied by us. They were in fact, not vegetarian (as Wilson, our tour guide also insisted) but rather, pescatarians. I held Kathleen´s hand as promised to get through the crack to the promised land of the other side. That sunlight beyond the arch of the rocks was the closest imagining of heaven I have ever felt. Yet I was still and bewildered. We glided through the water sometimes hiding behind Wilson for ¨safety¨ whatever that means. But in the thick of the swim, on a higher echelon than the sharks floating in a threesome, were eagle rays, or what I prefer to call, ¨sea-moths¨. They stunned me without stinging. If only I could run. Even with fins, I must have moved like a sea lion on the sand...mobile but essentially helpless, awkward, and . . . cute as pie?

As we crossed through the oracle, I knew that from watching many a suspense thriller that any relief to have made it through, would only mean that I would suddenly feel the tearing of my leg from my hip by a baby shark and his ensuing family. I decided to remain agitated to preserve my safety as a terror film protagonist. But then again, this nervousness was also no good, I decided, despite my appearance of calm: to sharks, acting is probably as futile a mask as gum is to garlic. On the other side, the water was murky and full of tiny jellyfish. We were suddenly stung at random, the group of us singing like a chorus hit by tiny shafts of fire. We all climbed back aboard, never exhaling until we ourselves were each aboard (survival of the fittest; every woman for herself). The boat raced to our picnic spot as though it were as charged as we were by the creatures we dared to intrude upon.

But our last snorkel spot of all renewed our lightheartedness: in shallow shark-free waters we watched sea lions swim around us in spins and flips and stare with big puppy eyes. I thought I would explode. Galapagos turtles moved at their opposite speed under the surface while we voyeurs again looked on, uninvited but welcome.


Jan went home today.

Yesterday´s 5 hour rehearsal was so exciting. I can´t wait to create.

Tomorrow: in the school!

Wish you were here,

J.