So much to tell so little time...
Sorry about the delay folks - as with all bases stuck out in the arse end of nowhere, contact with the outside world is limited at best and with no internet or phone connections the blog went a little by the wayside.
So I´m 4 weeks in already and it´s flying by. I´ll give you a quick whistle stop tour so far and then hopefully fill in the gaps over the next couple of weeks.
Things you should know:
Damn this is hard work! Start at 6am with duties (kitchen, grounds, boat kit up, toilet cleaning or whatever you´re on rota for that day). After brekkie it´s diving, BTEC work, Rescue diver work, fish learning, tests, exams and assignments. Radio duty, compressor (filling tanks with O2) and various other tasks fill the hours and days generally finish around 730-8pm.
The toilets are bucket flush, there are 2 between 28 people, eating a lot of beans a cabbage. They only have saloons doors that lead straight into the palapa (the communal area) and one of them has been blocked for 2 weeks. Niiiice. As a result, within the first week the main topic of conversation became bowels. Can´t go, won´t go, can´t stop going, can you hear anything, who left a floater. Within 5 days we´d become a little too comfortable with each others private ablutions and the conversation inevitably went down hill from there. There are, apparently, no taboos in Punta Gruesa!
Anyone can get DCS, even on a safe profile. We learnt this the hard way 2 weeks ago when myself and 3 friends went diving with a dive centre in Mahahual on our day off. 2 amazing dives, but unfortunately ended with Karl having to go on O2, and then going to the decompression chamber in Playa and not being able to dive for 2 weeks. Happily, he´s back with us on base and fingers crossed he´ll be back in the water next week but a valuable lesson learned - chekc the dive centre you are with has enough o2 to get you to the nearest chamber. Ours didn´t.
Horse flys suck. Literally. The place is swarming with them and we´re the chef´s special. We have a natty little move called "the bastard fly dance" (we call them bastard flies since that´s all you can shout when one gets you). The move in question basically involves hopping around like an eeejiot, slapping random parts of your body, a certain amount of involuntary twitching and severe tourettes. It´s a wonder to behold. As is the ensuing itching and bright red welts that we are all sporting on our arms, legs, hands, faces, backsides... apparently nowhere is sacred. I woke the other morning, scratching the hell out of my leg and started to count the bites. I got to 52, below the knee of my left leg and got bored. And, believe it or not, I´m not the worst victim.
Aside from that though, life is pretty darned awesome! It´s not often in life you´re guaranteed to walk out of bed to be greeted by the sun rising over the sea. Spend your days learning new things, diving (when weather allows - unfortunately we´ve had quite a few non-diving days over the past 2 weeks) and generally having a blast.
So, I´ve passed my fish ID tests, completed my emergency first responder course and passed my DAN O2 delivery. We´re also 5 assignments into the BTEC and part way through the rescue diver.
I reckon I´ve banged on enough now, so until next time, Hasta Luego!
