The Chronicles of Kiwi, Part 11

It occurred to me, after I hit the send button yesterday (with the wrong date), that a few, a very few, might not be all that interested in hearing about my shaving adventures in paradise. They might just wish to hear about paradise. Duly noted…

And speaking of shaving, I’m inclined to let it go just one more day. I believe the weather is finally in a cooperative mood and we’re set to go out to sea in just a bit. Retaining one more day the grizzled Ernest Hemingway look  – my personal rendition/edition of The Old Man & the Sea – might be just the ticket. I may not catch a thing but I’ll look the part – an angler poser posing for pics..

The gent who owns the house we are renting will also serve as our boat captain. When he has tenants he just moves down the hill to his boat where he stands off from shore about 75 yards. He’s come to visit us a couple of times…at his own house. He is a true Kiwi – thick of accent, keen of wit, and overall a lovely person to be around. He asked me if I would be bringing along any bait. I told him no, but that I did plan to eat a big breakfast just prior to climbing aboard. He totally got the subtle seasick joke and made some comment about me serving as the chief chum master or some such. I think we’ll get on quite well.  If the unthinkable does happen I’m sure he’ll merrily snap a few pics to memorialize the moment. I would do the same for him and for you as well!

I’ve been to sea a number of times and have only gotten sick just once – while whale-watching in the Dominican Republic. But it wasn’t seasickness proper. It was more a case of PTSD (Post Traumatic Seasickness Syndrome). You see, I would have managed just fine – whales would have been watched without incident – had I not made the mistake of going below decks to visit the “head.”  As I descended the last step I witnessed well over half the paying guests collapsed, writhing and retching around like some civil war reenactment scene.  It was this trifecta of sight, sound and smell that sucker-punched me. I had no more control over what happened next than a person would a sneeze. So, I promptly contributed a courtesy barf and then made way for the upper decks as quickly as possible. As I passed by the suffering landlubbers, I noted with mild pleasure a teenage boy who, just ten minutes earlier, had mocked his dad’s seasickness. He’d been laughing and pointing at his poor pa – “Dad’s sick! Ha, ha! Hysterical. Ha, Ha, ha….Ha, Ha….Uh, uh…Oh no.” Now the dad was comforting his son.

Going to sea can humble the strongest and the most self-assured. I am approaching this great hunt for Red Sapper with humility. And, I’m keen to give you a report on how it all goes down, no matter how it all goes down.

Many blessings on your day! – CJ