1-11-11
Bonaire, Holland



There’s a crew of parrots chattering away in the tree just beyond my porch. I can’t quite see them because they are brightly backlit by the sun setting just beyond. The palm trees are dark green silhouettes against the sky and water beyond them. It’s about 6 o’clock, I’m in shorts and a tank top, and the steady breeze that blows east to west all day here is making music in the leaves, setting the rhythm for the birds’ flutes and whistles.
We arrived in Bonaire two days ago, touching down on the small Caribbean island at half past six on a Sunday morning. 40 miles to the north is Venezuela. To our west 1 mile is the uninhabited little island of Klein Bonaire and 50 or so miles beyond that Curacao.

Arrival
We stepped off the plane and the warm breezy air bounced off the tarmac wafting up to my outspread arms. Ori and I smiled and danced in the hot sun, thrilled by to have arrived after so many months of anticipation. The small airport terminal, the hot air, the breeze – it all reminded me instantly of Rwanda. I don’t know if the airport terminals are both a colonial style of architecture, or if the two airports were built by the same architect, but this instant surge of reminder continued with me throughout our drive into town. We cleared customs and grabbed our bags quickly, found our friends and drove through the two-street main town.
The houses are simple, small, one story buildings. Many are painted bright colors. Shipping containers dot the landscape. We wove through several roundabouts, caught our first glimpse of the local flamingo population and entered into Kralendijk, the main town on island. A few miles beyond, heading north, we arrived at our friends’ home in Sand Dollar Condominiums.

Sunday
Sunday was a full day. Our friends quickly gave us a tour of our apartment which is, simply, perfect. We have a bathroom, full closet, kitchen complete with spices and stocked with beer and wine. Beyond that is a large room with couch, chairs, desk and bed, all opening up onto a screened in porch with an ocean view. This has become my breakfast nook, and now, my writing spot.
At night we sleep as in Tel Aviv - no air conditioning, with only the evening breeze and the sounds of birds and surf to cool our bodies and minds. It is glorious.
Our friends live a few doors down and have gone out of their way to make their home feel like an extension of ours. We have been eating, cooking and generally relaxing at their place, turning our own unit into more of a bedroom.
From our first hours here, Ori and I were impressed with the level of convenience and simplicity. Just next to the condos is the dive shop, the dock, the room to store our scuba gear and an ocean front restaurant. You can wake up here at 8am and easily be scuba diving by 8:30. All you have to do is grab your gear and go.
At 9:30 Sunday morning, we attended an orientation at the Dive Shop and learned a bit about Bari Reef. This reef, right at our doorstep, is the most diverse in the entire Caribbean. In the past few years it has been invaded by lionfish, a beautiful but threating fish that was let loose in Florida and has made its way throughout the Caribbean down to Bonaire. They sting horribly – a sting so painful they say, “It won’t kill you, but you’ll wish it had.” More significantly, they eat. A lot. (25% of their body weight each day) And their presence is a threat to the famous diversity of the reef.
After the orientation, we rented our gear and got fitted for BCDs, regulators, fins and more. It was exciting to have this equipment in my hands after reading about it in my dive course book for so many weeks. We hung the gear on a hook and crossed the lawn to pick up a few groceries at the market next door. Along the way, our hosts introduced us to a few of the local characters, several of whom are American expats who have moved their lives to Bonaire. I took a brief nap, euphoric but overwhelmed by the fact of being here, in this amazing place.

Scuba Lessons
At 2 o’clock, I met up with J and my scuba class began in full. He and I have charged into the course with intensity and I am enjoying every minute. I am incredibly grateful for the opportunity to learn this way, one on one with someone I trust. He has completely dedicated these few days to teaching me to dive, and is a talented, patient and encouraging instructor. We began by reviewing some of the written lessons and then quickly headed down to the docks with our gear.
Up to this point, everything about diving has been wonderful – magical. There are two small tasks involved that I find challenging/frustrating, but both are getting easier each time.

1.Checking the air pressure in a tank.
This is a funny issue. Checking the pressure is easy, but releasing the gauge from the valve on the tank requires hand strength that I haven’t quite mastered. J is great about having me do it myself so I will learn, but I’ve bruised my palm about trying.

2.Suiting Up
I am borrowing a wet suit (more gratitude!) but it’s a bit snug. I actually think it’s the right size, but donning it involves a lot of pulling and pinching the materials to drag it up and on.
I point these out, mostly, because they are so mundane, and to underline how much I love everything about this new sport.

The Course
We began with a series of five “Contained Water Dives.” During these sessions, we never ventured lower than 10 feet. With Ori joining us for the first dive, I learned how to breathe in and out of the regulator, focusing on breathing only with my mouth. The very first time was scary at first. I froze for a few seconds, fearing I wouldn’t be able to do it. With a leap of faith, I slowly let air out of my vest and allowed myself to sink underwater. It worked. Air flowed in and out of my mouth easily and my confidence began to rise as my body descended. During the first few dives, I learned to remain neutrally buoyant, suspended in the water not floating or sinking. With each deep breath in, my lungs propel me up a few feet. Release the air inside, and I sink back down. Diving has been an amazing way to get in touch with my body, and to learn to appreciate breathing, and the ease with which my body performs this crucial function. I learned to swim in and out of hoops under water and practiced taking off my mask and putting it back on, using air from my nose to clear out the water.
Even in the shallow water, the view beneath mesmerized me. All around me swam blue and purple parrot fish. I would go under for 2 minutes and find myself surrounded by a giant school of tiny fish. Below me in the sand, I saw a flounder, hiding camouflaged with his eyes looking up at me. (When I first saw him, I thought it was a skeleton of a dead fish because he was exactly the color of the sand and sunk in a bit, giving me the impression that he was nothing but the discarded bones of a former creature.)
While J and I spent Sunday and Monday completing all five confined dives, Ori and C relaxed, rode bikes and dove. At night, we gathered for dinner. Sunday night we went to a delicious place in the capital town and Ori and I got a tour of the many restaurants along the waterfront. There is a Cuban bar, a harbor, and a special area where the giant cruise ships come in each day. Last night, J and I bought groceries at the local supermarket and cooked up a dinner of soup, rice and salad. We were joined around nine by E, the head of the local conservation society. All of us laughed, shared stories and went out to the delicious ice cream shop that is right next door. E invited C, J and Ori out for a dive the next day to work on controlling the Lion Fish population. As I write this, they are out diving, spear guns in hand, working to slowly fight against this invasive species.

Tuesday
I was up early today, excited to have my first “Open Water Dives.” These dives, carefully monitored by my instructor, offer the opportunity to practice my new skills in deeper water. No new skills are introduced, but the stakes are higher when the surface isn’t just overhead.
We swam out to a buoy about 100 yards off the dock, went over the procedures for descent and ascent, then released the air from our vests and slowly floated downward. I felt my ears popping along the way and blew air out gently to relieve the squeeze. I felt calm, confident and excited. We swam down and west toward the reef and before I knew it, my depth gauge measured 20, than 30, than 40 feet. The reef drops off quickly and we swam down alongside. I struggled a bit in the first dive to keep my fins out of the coral, but did better in subsequent trips.
One remarkable thing in diving is that as you descend, you have no concept of depth. Only your gauge (and the pressure in your ears) warns you that you are dropping steadily, and on our third dive we reached 57 feet below in just a few minutes. I love the feeling of swimming slowly after my partner, pushing the heavy water behind me with my fins and slowly propelling my body forward. I didn’t want to come up.
I was, today, introduced to an entire new universe on Earth. Just below the surface, just beyond our view from land, is a bustling, vibrant world of plants and animals, of colors and species, of predators and prey, reproduction and families, communities and interconnected systems of life. Of course I knew this stuff was there – but never really thought about it. Today I swam among it all, a tiny intruder in this bustling world below. The fish are everywhere and all around, and they continued with their lives unfettered by our presence. J and a trumpet fish stared at each other for a few minutes, both visitors in a mutual zoo. A midnight parrot fish swam right up to me and I thought for a second she would keep on swimming through my legs.

We saw brain corral, and fire corral and dozens of others that I have not begun to learn. I longed to learn it all – the names, the habits, the rarity and more – and then wondered why it mattered. Does knowing the name of a beautiful creature make it more beautiful? Is it more of a wonder if it’s rare to see? Or perhaps in my totally ignorant state, I am best equipped to stand (or float) in awe of the rich beauty below.
Beneath the surface, I find I am able to remain totally present. I concentrate on my breaths, keeping them slow and long. I stare in every direction, and with each degree that I turn, I see another wonder. I feel so privileged to have been introduced to this world. I imagine that a small percentage of people on Earth have had this opportunity and am grateful to be among them. I am, quite simply, hooked.



Midnight Parrotfish