Dives, sun burns and bloody towels

The morning started well - S. and I had left our blinds and windows open and we woke up very nicely arena 7am with the sun, the blue skies, the birds chirping, and the ocean a stones throw away. I managed to faff for long enough to throw off S’s strict “breakfast y 7:30am schedule” and so we had to shovel a bowl of something which looked like cold porridge but my oh my was it a delicious concoction of fruit, nuts and creaminess. Then off to our very first dive of the holiday! The calm and collective people that we both are, neither S nor I had any qualms about the situation (haha yeah right). The drive to the dive-site was, as tends to be, a bit of a “trust the fact your driver isn’t died yet” situation, and we got to our destination with a body full of adrenaline and joie de vivre at the simple fact of having got there alive (I am being a little bit dramatic - it was a little nerve-wracking but nothing like that hell-ride in Naples. Ugh, Naples).

When we got there my hear did sink a little bit, since they only had short wet-suits, and I feared for my propensity to hypothermia. Not wanting to make a big deal out of it, however, and thinking that mind over matter was a real thing (it most certainly is not) I picked up the smallest size I could find and shuffled onto the boat with a matching tiny BDS.

The boat ride was pleasant, and the gentle-people working are always kind, funny and have a constant air of amusement at the things their visitor’s get up to. The other people on the boat were cool, and despite my anti-social tendencies they were a nice-kinda chatty. There were also two britons on board which were too tanned to be Britons and I firmly believe they were international spies.

The dives themselves: The Vicky-B and Lesleen M as well as South Beach. What is there to say? S. and I were both a little (very) nervous before jumping into the water, but as soon as we went under we realised that there was little to it that we hadn’t done before. In a Quarry. In Wales. At 10 degrees celcius. Compared to that the dives here were a dream, with clear and warm waters, coral reefs, fish, eels, an absolutely photogenic model-puffer fish, and a couple fo chubby squid.

Predictably though, by the end of the first I was shivering, and despite the hour-long surface break and the scorching sun I was loath to get back in for the second dive. I managed, because mind over matter, but boy oh boy was I cold. I got out shivering to the point that our dive masters and boat captains ushered me to the roof deck and assured me they’d take care of disassembling my gear.

The boat journey back was relaxed, and I happily sung the Pirates of the Caribbean theme tune as we sped past mountains of lush greenery and the Caribbean ocean all around.

Back at the hotel Samwise and I had that desorbitantly expensive massage booked, so we decided to take it abysmally easy until our booking and have some lunch, followed by some pool-side time on shaded loungers - something I usually refuse to do (why the hell would you sit by the pool when you have a private beach right next to it?!) but to be honest the sea was a little sillty, and the thought of having a constant stream of cocktails sent to our loungers was very appealing. And so, by the pool we went. In about three minutes my shins, which had been exposed to the only strip of sunlight on my lounger, were glowing red, and I ushered Sam to a more protected set of loungers - with a view to the mountains rather than the sea - but a much safer option in regards to avoiding my knees becoming the glowing red Rudolphs of the resort.

The night ahead promises more balcony and champagne soaks, fire-breathers, fire-limbo, Caribbean dances, and a sushi dinner to boot. Excitement is rife.Read more