On Filling the Hungry Maw
Having eaten on the large pizza I lugged back to the room that first night for two days I thought it high time I went out and foraged for food before I was forced to eat the box, which smelled very good by the way. I don’t know about y’all, but I get powerful hungry after three dives in a day and the cupboard was bare. I had seen the Cultimara on the way in and it was there that I made my initial assault in the war against hunger. I was very pleasantly surprised at both the selection and the prices. I had been used to shopping at places like the Ample Hamper in St. T and the BVI’s, where a banana, though perfect in every way, costs you all the money you have and can borrow. The prices at the Cultimara were reasonably comparable to home. I am not sure what this says about prices in Northern California, but I felt good about filling the shopping cart. And while I did cook for myself for the most part, I did cast my dining net far enough to try two places, De Tuin and Mi Poron, both of which I found convivial, in possession of good food, and filling. The goat stew at Mi Poron was very fine as was the chicken salad and pumpkin soup. And at De Tuin I satisfied not only my hunger for information at one of their internet terminals, but also my craving for a cheeseburger with a healthy portion of fries. I did visit Joe and Fred at the Pasa Bon on my last night and soothed my oh-my-gosh-I-have-to-leave-this-wonderful-place aching soul with the restorative powers of Fred’s pizza.
Diving with Bon Bini
After much agony and after spending so many hours of reading BonaireTalk that I have been propelled into cheap reading glasses, I decided to dive with - My Second Lucky Break -Bon Bini Divers. Being a solo traveler on this trip I had the concern of not being able to find people to dive with during my stay. I know that I could have stayed say at Buddy Dive, which looked nearly overrun with people, but at a price that was nearly double what I paid, I could not justify it. Meeting this fear mask on I decided on a two pronged approach. First, I would sign up for my advanced open water course, this would insure that I would be diving with the instructor for three days. The second prong was to throw all of my faith behind the credo that it is better to be lucky than good and hoped for diver partners to fall from the sky. Much to my satisfaction, they did. The people at Bon Bini are among the very finest people I have ever dived with. I am not a new comer, though my diving as of late has been scant, I have been certified for 30 years and have over 300 dives. Francie, Mananita, Marjolien, Danielo, Shaba and Duvon top to bottom met my needs in every way. I received excellent instruction, office support, and advice. Both Marjolien and Mananita dove with me on their days off so I never lacked for a partner, for that I am in their debt. I would heartily recommend the land and shore based operation of Bon Bini Divers to one and all. The boats, are another matter. They were in good repair and were fit, manned properly and driven well, but I am used to Cozumel where you need a seat belt to keep you in place when those captains take off for the reefs like so many 747’s. The boats at Bon Bini are painfully slow. I do not know if this is by design or due to the limits of equipment, but we went on a dive to Hand’s Off on the other side of Klein and I would swear that we went from summer into fall. That being said, the dives off of the boats were smooth and enjoyable and the rides back were endless. One more word about Mananita. If there is a Zen to diving, and I believe there is, she is one of its masters. I learned more about buoyancy in one day than I have in all of the conversations on all of the boats in all of the world. She halved the weight I was carrying and improved my movement through the water. In every way during my instruction, she made me a better diver. She always seemed to be at one with the sea, it is a state I needed to be reminded of, I owe her one.
The Dive Sites
Red Slave, Bachelor’s Beach, Hands Off, Country Garden, Pink Beach, Alice in Wonderland, and others as well. All of these are familiar names to the Bonaire initiated. This being my first time on the island I had a couple of impressions. It is by far the easiest shore diving I have ever encountered. The waves are ankle-biters for the most part and it seems you can always find a mostly sandy entry if you try. I learned to dive in the waves of southern California, 2 to 4 foot waves, this diving was both an extreme pleasure and almost no effort. The second thing that I liked was that I was able to dive at my own schedule. I am not one of the world’s great morning people when it comes to diving. The very thought of salt water in my mouth at 8am just makes me want to squint. I come on vacation to get away from schedules and the freedom to grab a tank, toss it in the truck and go dive whenever the muse moved me was priceless. It should be like this everywhere, but few places have the wealth of shore diving that Bonaire possesses. It was truly glorious. In the water I was constantly reminded of the wonders of the deep. The colors of the coral and the abundance of fish greeted me with every dive. Fauna wise I would say the highlights were seeing a large Eagle Ray and seeing what had to be a 6’ Moray Eel swimming in the open looking for a place to hide. All of the dives, long and short, revealed wonders aplenty and reminded of just how good it was to be a diver.
The Truck
The truck I rented came from Total rent a car. Drove fine, radio played loud and redefined the term monaural. The next day I come out and the tire is low, must not have noticed last night. Scoot down to the Lisa Gas and refill, head for Bon Bini. In the afternoon, tire is low, scoot down to the Lisa Gas, head for dinner. The two subsequent days produced the same results. I am getting worried. I am starting to develop a personal relationship with the air hose at the Lisa Gas. She raises her little filler head every time I pull in knowing that she is helping me make it through the day. I can appreciate this, even a air hose needs a purpose in life, but I was counting on seeing more of the island than the leak in the tire was allowing me. It was kinda like running on batteries. I know, I said! I’ll change the tire, mind like a steel trap that boy. Get out the jack, slip it under the frame, up she goes. Loosen the lug nuts and…….nothing. The rim of the tire is rusted to the brake drum. I pleaded, I kicked, I banged, for days and days, all for naught. The tire laughed at my anguish, could it be in love with the air hose I thought, hence its galvanized state? I then did what I should have done the first day, returned the truck for a new one. No hassle, one, two, three, and I was on my way. As I passed the Lisa Gas on the way back from the airport I almost glanced at the air hose stand but I could not. Call it guilt or imagination, but I could swear I heard a long sigh coming from the station as I passed. She knew I had someone new, another vacation romance dashed on the on the pavement of the winding island road.
And The Rest
One night I came to an intersection where the cars were stopped waiting for the donkeys, who were fighting in the middle of the road to stop. No one honked and they finished the round and moved on.
I went to the national park to catch site of the flamingos. I caught a few distant pictures but in one place a lone bird came toward me instead of walking away and I was able to do a portrait. After the picture he turned and walked away, with me gratefully standing amazed at the water’s edge.
I saw a group of people standing in front of a building. They were celebrating the painting of the new business’s name on the wall. Their joy was apparent and I applauded them inside for taking the time to wish their friends well.
Walking along Pink beach I saw the bones of a thousand years of coral strewn along the sand. Any shape that you could imagine could be found in those bleached remains. Crosses, and trees and hearts and torsos, and I was struck by the variety of life in all its guises and that we should constantly be in awe but rarely are. |
By David Fox on Wednesday, June 13, 2001 - 8:22 pm: 
