So what other activities would I usually be following if
this were a normal Christmas? Probably a round of chilly golf or two, followed
by an evening discussing how the match went in intricate detail…or maybe a
pantomime, followed by an evening of repeating the terrible jokes or humming
the catchy song Buttons had been belting out hours before.
Not during Beachmas. We spent all day hunting down and staring
at the local aquatic wildlife. And the evening eating it*.
We hired out our own long, thin, bambooed boat and headed out
to skim around the island for the day, with snorkels ad masks on hand. I’ve
snorkelled before on many, many occasions; whilst Cody and Nic have done some
diving. Claire had only done snorkelling the once.
And so when our first underwater view exploded into life,
contrary to our expectations given the high winds and rocky boat as we plopped
off the side for the first time, Claire was gobsmacked. The coral was very
pretty and intricate, and hosted thousands of fish of all the colours of the
rainbow, all of whom swarmed around us as bread was tossed into the water. What
capped it off was the sighting of a perfectly proportioned, had-sized, fat starfish.
Claire literally squealed with delight through her snorkel, creating on odd,
discordant, trumpetty noise, which had our two local guides in stitches. Much
to my proxy-queasiness, I think an introductory PADI course looms large on our
next holiday for Claire…
We took some time out on Puka beach (see above) to sunbathe
and recover, before sailing back home for leg two of our piscine day of fun.
The wet market beckoned.
I had less fun as we entered the wet market. * My fish aversion
continues. A tedious phobia to have in Asia. The experience was like an elaborate
anxiety dream for me, as I also happened to be desperate for the loo. So whilst
the other 3 were weighing up and slavering over the wares on offer, I reeled
from stall to stall looking fruitlessly for a toilet fit to burst, as pincers,
claws, slimy antennae and staring fish eyes thrust at me from all angles, with water
sloshing and jetting about from the small tanks as the livelier specimens made
the last desperate protests. Shudder. It had me craving the satisfying ping of
a well-struck tee shot or a call of “It’s behind you!”
Anyway, everyone else had a grand time, as you can see. And
the symmetry of the fishy supper on the BBQ did at least appeal to me. My
personal favourite is the middle wrapped item – it’s like the presents you see
in cartoons under the tree for the family cat. What could it be?!
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