we do the iced coffee routine, the noting-how-it's-not-as-good-as-the-old-lady's routine, and read each other's blog posts (hey, they can't all be red letter days). the morning whatnot is accented with eggs and a honeyed banana pancake. i give thanks for non-coagulated salt, so crucial for maximum yolk enjoyment.
i ensnare the kindle early, sensing imminent claims upon it from many directions. a few days prior i received the generous offer to download a volume of my choosing onto the precious device, and i immediately transfered zadie smith's only other novel, on beauty. thirty seconds later i was filled with regret, recalling my ability to devour alive any average tome within mere days. my knowledge of book recommendations sought and located a solution deep within its file cabinets, and, stealthily, i added infinite jest to the kindle's memory banks.
cozied into the couch pillows at baan suay, i engage fully in the absurdly footnoted world of Harold Incandenza in the Year of the Tuck's Medicated Pad. a couple hours later, dad asks me what it is about, and i enthusiastically respond that i really don't quite know as of yet.
it is a waiting sort of day. a van is slated to swoop down from the heavens and wing us off to the Queen Scuba dive boat at approximately 3 p.m., so we get serious at our milling about.
daddles requires tylenol (still not feeling tops) so we sweat our way to the pharmacy and back. our tumblies are rumbly, and we contemplate some seriously hom roasted chicken, but manage to hold off.
at last - motion, movement! the van is here and we pile in, simultaneously meeting Mssrs. Mark, Kim, and Mike. they are invitingly gregarious.
we make one stop to load up with further passengers before heading out of town. we're a bit early, so our trio pop over to the 7-11 (indispensible i tell you) to get some quick eats. spicy fried seaweed and yakult for me, salted broad beans and sweet basil flavor chips and black lemon tea for mom, butter bread and yakult for dad. mom has previously snubbed the absolutely magnificent yakult, but this time she is surrounded by cold, enticing bottles and surrenders to a sip. she remains unimpressed.
the new passengers are a series of five, who appear to know each other to varying degrees, but who also decline to make significant conversation with us. i decide they must be shy and am a tad saddened. then my ear perks to a woman's command: "dame la maquina!" ah, spanish, excelente! i further crane my neck, and i realize i am close, pero no cigarro. italian, they are all italian. the shyness transforms into a language barrier - hmmm.
two hours, plenty of raindrops, and an infinity of jesting later, we find ourselves at the boat. a quick pineapple juice and we are being shown our quarters. i had submitted to the possibility of sharing a bunk should another lonesome female be aboard, but this is not the case and my room is my own.
mom and dad have decided they require the honeymoon suite, complete with enormous bed and flatscreen TV/DVD player. in a cruel twist of fate, however, the television set is out of commission and has been yanked from the wall, leaving only a few limp wires in its wake. ah well.
we hit the back deck and set up our dive gear, with a small amount of trepidation at the start owing to the length of time it's been since we've done this last (over two years, can you believe it?). it's deliciously easy, however, and we are all geared up for tomorrow within minutes. we'll all be diving on a nitrox blend of 32% for these coming days, which means that longer dives are theoretically possible for us, plus a lower "nitro-load" post dive, equating to less overall exhaustion. we know how to play this game.
we beer it, making use of the honesty system so common on liveaboards of marking up your alcohol "purchases" for yourself as they occur. mike, an amicable crewmember oddly from glendale, arizona, gives an introductory speech for the boat and crew, then invites everyone to the bow to watch 100 firecrackers be set off upon launch for luck. dad hands the camera to the expert.
din-dins! tonight it is fried rice with egg and veggies, red curry chicken, shrimp with asparagus and carrots, and a mysterious final dish that appears to be potatoes or dumplings of some variety. i scoop a load of everything onto the rice, then notice that the final unknown concoction was definitely a soup. whoop.
the mishmash of sauces/soup stock actually turns out to be fantastically delectable. the soup does not hold anything like potatoes at all; the yellow chunks are the creamiest tofu i've ever had.
this array is followed up by a spread of fresh fruits, and i munch on rose apples and dragonfruit. the guy across from me is eating something i've not seen prior, so i snag one and inquire. the chef calls it "honey apple", which turns out to be very precise - it is so sweetly brown sugar i don't want to eat more than a nibble.
in the salon, we present our offical PADI dive cards to mike so he can note that we are not imposters trying to scheme our little way into the water. my rescue dive card has a snazzy new manta ray design instead of the dull old dolphin, and dad practically begins foaming at the mouth with jealousy. hmmm, maybe next time you should try getting your wallet pilfered on a klong boat, eh mister?
i scan a book of indian sea fishes and get hyped for whale sharks and manta rays. we'll see what we can spot.
i retire with the laptop and write this. and now this. and this.
nighty-nite!
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