I have officially made it over halfway through the book! I threw a celebration, ate some pumpkin bread and got an extra glass of water. This is the type of party that I associate with. I am a poor nerdy college student. Huzzah!

Now that you know my strange habits, I will update you on the book. Part II of The Sea by John Banville is proving to be even better than Part I. The main character seems to be recalling things at a much quicker rate than before and is finding that “Madame Memory” has become fickle and is mixing memories together.

However, one of the things that is starting to get a bit more awkward as it goes. One memory that he references regularly is his memory of how much he liked his friends’ mother. Yes. I did say their mother. There are several instances where he reflects on his adoration of this matronly figure, including one time when he is on a date with this woman’s daughter.

Besides this brief maladroit moments, the story is pulling me farther and farther into this life. The slightly off-color and bitter remarks about his departed wife continue to cause me emotional pain (only on a shallow level, however) and are uncomfortable in a good way. You know what I mean, right? Those times when you aren’t quite sure if you’re committing a faux pas, but go along with it. It’s the discomfort that comes from self-awareness.

I am currently around 70 pages from the end and excited that I have the entirety of Thanksgiving break to read. I shall have another book on here in less than a week!

Here’s the quote that was sent to me as part of Quoteland.com’s ‘Quote of the Week:’ “Life without thankfulness is devoid of love and passion. Hope without thankfulness is lacking in fine perception. Faith without thankfulness lacks strength and fortitude. Every virtue divorced from thankfulness is maimed and limps along the spiritual road.” ~John Henry Jowett

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The Wales Coastline is a beautiful landscape that stretches 170 miles from North to South and 60 miles from East to West and is of course on the West of Great Britain surrounded on three sides by the Sea.

Gower, Carmarthenshire, Pembrokeshire and Cardin Bay are really beautiful with wonderful clean beaches to visit. In Wales you are never far away from both the Mountains and the Sea. Visitors to these shores include Dolphins, Basking Sharks, Porpoises, Atlantic Grey Seals and Leather Back Turtles.

The Gower peninsula was the first to be acknowledged by the British Government as an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty in 1956.

There are many islands off the Welsh mainland, Ynys Mon (Anglesey) is the largest. The highest peak in Wales is 3,560 ft high and called Snowdon and the highest mountains are dark and craggy.

If you travel down South, as you move along the land starts becoming softer, but is still very hilly. The South of Wales is the place where industrial revolution did take place. It has a totally different feel than the rest of Wales. Here are steep sided valleys, once home to the coal-mines crafted by the three rivers of Rhymney, Rhondda Taff and Cynon.

It is said Welsh people like talking, and of course love telling stories and singing. To celebrate their proud Literature they organize a Literature Festival each year in Hay-on Wey. It attracts lots of big shots from the Literary world from all over the planet.

In Wales everybody sings to celebrate victory. During the Rugby matches you can see the people chanting the National Anthem, Hen Wlad Fy Nadhau (Land of my Fathers). The Harp and pibgorn (wooden pipe).can be heard at many places. Many new rock bands have also come up recently like Manic Street Preachers, Frizbee and some of the oldies like Bryn Fon, Meic Stevens and Dafydd Iwan are still going strong.

If you are a foodie or just looking for a hearty meal then Wales will please you in all these ways and more. Give your taste-buds a treat and be adventurous and visit the various eateries around offering the locally prepared dishes fresh. You will find many Restaurants boasting Michelin-starred perfection here.

World renowned Welsh Lamb and the Welsh Black Beef are not the only good things to taste, but others like Laverbread (a seaweed) often fried into crisp patties with eggs, bacon and fresh cockles for a traditional Welsh breakfast.

If you love cheese, Wales is a place that makes 600 different types of cheese dishes. For those who love cooking, a visit to one of the farmer’s market or farmer shops is a must.

You can also go to a Food Festivals, which happen all throughout the year, and you can meet the actual food producers, meet top chefs and watch them prepare exquisite dishes and sample some right yummy treats.

Wales will be a perfect destination for all you food buffs and Tourists with tantalizing tastes.

Roberto had waited and searched but this time there was no sighting.

An immense anxiety, a deadly doubt set into him that made him believe it would never happen again. Since his determination drove him far out onto the water where most would not dare go, he placed high expectations on himself. Lord knew he was good at waiting, but why not now, the conditions were perfect. The fascination and obsession with seeing the ghost marlin enveloped him like his best fitting wet suit. He was use to being sheathed but this was altogether different. This one took him to a new level where nothing else mattered.

It had taken 9 days to return with nothing in mind except acute disappointment. The hammerhead sharks kept circling in his short term memory. Going over and over the shape of their heads he set in motion a chain of thoughts that would take a good day to let go of, perhaps more. He felt his world small, alot smaller than he wanted and this frustrated him to no end. He would turn to blame himself alone and inevitably he found himself moving to self loathing. It was a slippery slope a devilish thing that got hold of him each time.

Upon returning to Cabo he went about settling in for a few days of healing from the whole mishap. He did not like being alone so much yet he was forced into a kind of isolation when the whole damn thing got rolling. The chain of thoughts, the visual images played repeatedly provoking a sensory response.

“Bloody hell, so much time has passed by and all for what?” he questioned. He was angry with himself now for losing track of all those days, the wastage of it all gnawed at him.

His thoughts had a natural way of drifting, then coming to a stand still for long periods until the meds kick started him, catapulting him back to functioning, where he felt himself again. For this he was grateful, it was only a matter of hours now and he would move beyond this episode. He would be in the moment where he longed to be instead of zig zagging in the grey zone.

The phone rang suddenly and brought him up and out of his inanimate thoughts. Slowly he got up to answer, considering the possibility that by the time he had his hand on the receiver they probably would have hung up.

“Seven rings for seven numbers, that’s the number of rings you are supposed to allow no more no less, when you are calling someone.” he reminded himself.

“Hello, mm here” he answered

He was in his usual way trying to be chipper under the circumstances, why not when everything else fails try comedy? In fact he felt a faint memory coming on of a guy who always went that route. Ah, the power of laughter, humour and giggling, marlin, Giggling Marlin….

“Hey Marlin man, how are ya, thought you were never gonna get back— I need you this coming weekend I have a group of tourists flying down from Calgary. Have you had enough time for the transition?” quipped Tony.

“That’s what I like about you Tony you always give me lots a time, never had a boss like you before” said Roberto

“Nor will you ever again, I need you man—saturday come on by and we’ll reinstate you and get you all primed for the onslaught of tourists! Oh by the way, what’s her name uh Kate—yeah she said to say thank you for helping her find her compass.”

“Giggling Marlin, Kate yes, is she uh….”

“Yep she’s gone back to Canada, I told her not to forget us and she is looking forward to coming back.” said Tony

Roberto was silent for at least 20 seconds which is a long time when you are talking to someone like Tony.

“Hey—you still there mm”

“Thanks Tony, yes I am and I will be there bright and early saturday morning, you name the time, I’ll start prepping myself from the moment I hang up the phone” answered Roberto

“Seven o’clock and you know what time that really means” joked Tony

It had been four going on five years that Tony had tolerated—no put up with his unusual patterns, for that he thanked his lucky stars daily, 15-20 times on a good day, well over 50 times on a bad day.

“See you at my usual time, I thank you for the call and as always the work”

“Hey you are the only guy I have ever known who knows those waters like no one else so I figure if I have to put up with a little eccentricity from you its worth it to have a guide who can identify every kind of fish and coral in these parts and not to mention help find a compass, which is akin to finding a needle in a haystack just in case you were wondering! Gotta go got a customer see ya sat.” said Tony quickly.

Roberto was left standing with the receiver in his hand still glued to his ear. Next to him the map of the entire region faced him. He hung up the phone in slow motion. It was the fish, the sea turtles the marine life that was landing upon him now as he remembered Kate’s fascination with the movement of those silky bodies. She had seemed as absorbed with it like he often was with just about everything that entered his brain.

A chain of thoughts went like this:

Kate-giggling-marlin-’Striper’-ghost-blue-Kate-giggling-sip Cabo Cabo-giggling-Gazebo time….and on it went to the point of no return.

Outside of his small bungalow the birds gathered at the feeder. Their songs invited him out into the bright sun. He was headed to the Gazebo, it was there that he would wait until the clearing came and be changed.

He would stay on that steady course with the regularity of the work in the Cabo Sun in the daytime and Jacques Cousteau Documentaries and Marlin Perkins Wild Kingdom reruns in the evenings.

Not all is lost he thought, it was worth it to find that compass, that sure felt good! Haven’t felt like that in a long time. It was like looking through a window, all I had to do was remember and not forget to memorize the way and unlock the path forward.

“Where ever she is I hope that compass points to her true north….” he whispered aloud to himself.

By A.D. 50 it had changed course and it gave Britain its capital after the invading Roman armies established Londinium as a port at the highest point of the tide. (it now reaches farther inland due to rising sea levels and the fact that Britain is sinking into the sea at a rate of 15 cm every 100 years.)

The Romans consolidated the river as an international port (trade with the Continent had started in the Bronze Age), constructing mills, wharves, and bridges. The iconic London Bridge was the first water crossing, lined with houses and shops; it has been replaced several times, most recently in the 1960s when the previous one was taken apart and shipped to the USA. There are now 14 bridges in central London, the most recent being the Golden Jubilee footbridges built in 2002.

About 100km (60 miles) from the sea, the Thames becomes tidal, flowing “the wrong way” toward its source twice a day as the sea pushes up the estuary. As the tide falls, the foreshore is disclosed, and in the mud and slush you can discover fascinating clues to London’s past, including clay tobacco pipes and pottery fragments.

The Thames was most splendid under the Tudors and Stuarts, when the river-loving monarchs lived in lovely waterside palaces at Hampton Court, Kew, Richmond, Whitehall, and Greenwich, using the waters as a “royal highway.” Fittingly, the Thames saw many monarchs’ final journeys in the form of stately funeral processions, including that of Elizabeth I in 1605, and that of Henry VIII in 1547. Its said that during the overnight stop at Syon House his coffin came apart and dogs licked at his corpse.

Today you can travel the same waters on passenger ferries or tourist vessels from Westminster upriver to Hampton Court via Richmond and Kew, or downriver to the glittering stainless-steel Thames Barrier via Greenwich. Alternatively, you can walk all or part of the Thames Path from the river’s source at Thames Head down to the Thames Barrier, or meander along the South Bank with its riverside tourist attractions, restaurants, English pubs, and shopping malls. (Note that a walk along the Embankment on the other side can be frustrating for little kids because of its high walls.)

When you’re on the Thames, try to picture in your mind’s eye the Lord Mayor’s processions that took place from the 15th century to the middle of the 19th, in barges covered with gold, some rowed with silver oars. In the 17th and 18th centuries, Frost Fairs were held on the river during winter freezes, complete with fairground amusements and stalls, performing clowns, and ox roasts.

Today, The Mayor’s Thames Festival is a fantastic family-oriented celebration of the Thames, including the transformation of part of the shore on the South Bank into a temporary urban beach. The river also hosts a variety of annual regattas, including the famous Oxford and Cambridge Boat Race.

I have been spending time in Gøta (in the Faroe Islands) with Martin Juul. I’ve attached a slideshow here which looks at my time spent with him: fishing, feeding geese, driving around the mountains. This slideshow is unedited and quite long but it’d be nice if you could see how Martin Juul helps keep the wheels of the Faroes turning in his own special way. I haven’t really edited much yet as it didn’t feel like the right time to do this.

click here for slideshow of Martin Juul’s story

We were all there on the boat in July. In the waters of Silver Bay. It had been years since I had set foot on a boat. Grandpa and my dad used to take me halibut fishing out in that bay.

I was afraid to be sea-sick. Grandma’s eyes were wet and everyone talked quiet and respectful. I held her arm in mine as we bounced and swayed out of the harbor. The breeze was warm inside, and out on the deck the air was clear. As we sped over the waves my stomach flopped and I only panicked for a moment. The captain pointed to the whale spouts and the kids and I all asked to follow it.

Out on the deck the wind blew my little flower printed dress wildly. I forgot to be scared of the water and closed my eyes holding the railing. I could feel the whole world melting around me. There was only this moment. Only the whales and the otters and the seals and Grandma and Grandpa in his tin. Only the wide sky and only the islands and sea birds and glitter on the waves. Being on the water was amazing and I didn’t cry, I laughed and laughed and something unlocked in my heart. Something weary and heavy lifted into the sky.

The captain steered us into Grandpa’s favorite fishing cove far far from the harbor. The engine cut and we floated, silent except for the wet waves lapping. The water was so dark and the cedars on the shores and cliffs were so dark and lush and green. Grandma said a prayer. Each of the three children scooped a little of Grandpa from the tin and let it into the ocean. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. They saved a little of Grandpa in an altoid tin for me to put into a locket. Grandma sniffled and mom ’s eyes were red. My hot tears were overwhelming, but it was because it was so beautiful.

When we had soaked up enough of the moment the captain started the engine. He slowly turned the boat back towards Sitka. Suddenly I remembered Grandpa’s laugh. In my heart I could hear him just laughing and laughing. He was so happy we put him in the sea.

Corinne Bailey Rae is set to make her long awaited comeback with sophomore album The Sea, due early 2010. To kick off promotion for the album she performed an acoustic version of the first single, ‘I’d Do It All Again’ on last nights Later With Jools Holland.

I watched this on TV last night and was blown away. The stripped back, emotional performance is not something we are used to from Corinne (her first album was relatively upbeat and ‘happy’-sounding), however I suppose it was to be expected given that the track deals with her relationship with late husband Jason.

Thanks to SoulCulture for heads up on the availability of the YouTube video.

This picture is taken from the archives on my computer. It’s even so old that it’s from my Ixus 65 days. Nevertheless I kind of like it but I guess that’s mostly because of the sky and its slow transition from the brightest of orange into a deep blue evening sky. A sky that is only slightly tainted by the contrails of an airplane passing by, probably on its way to Kastrup, Copenhagen.

Do they make their own light? I think they are like the sunset, backlit.  I look at them and I can see tomorrow, somehow, I can see everything that could ever be. I look at them and somewhere, a man guides a skiff up a river, the wind blows, leaves scatter. It’s quiet, and restless, all at once. Time is passing for all children, new beings are being conceived and tossed into the narrows of time, the centrifuge of the seasons, we are all tumbled together, new beings are tossed in like bright red and yellow balls into a lottery cage. Somewhere it is always morning as the dawn sweeps from east to west, over the brick buildings of the atlantic shores and towards the plains, dawn is always coming across the grass, the grass that bends, the grass that harbors insects whose lives are like the red sparks from a bonfire, forever and ever being born, and burning, and going out. And the dawn washes west, all the way to the brooding pacific seas, where blackened cold waves beat pillars of rock and water sucks the sand, awoosh! Awoosh! Forever and ever, and the dawn passes over, unknowing. And what is time? And the drama of the clouds! Which is not seen, but goes on living, and beats the ground with moisture, and slices up the light, and cloaks the dawn in thickness.

And what is time? Do you hold time behind your eyes? It is not everyone’s eyes, in which time can be seen, stacked up on itself like grains of sand balanced on the head of a pin. Everything at once. Everything at once! Two single circular irises, blue like the summer seas, calm, and infinite.

And your hands! Your square freckled hands. Your hands and my body sing together, they link arms and sing a simple lilting rhyme, steady like the pounding surf and just as old, and no-one knows who taught it to them, or where they remember it from, and yet they know it, the way children know playground rhymes about English plagues and unrequited love, and they skip, arm in arm, singing soft secrets to each other, and it comes from nowhere, it comes from way back, like the elm tree in the street, and the way the light through the branches makes patterns on the ground, and happens anyway, like spring.

Love, the wind blows too hard, and the power is sputtering, and the lamp flickers off and on. The wind blows too hard! I want to open myself to this winter wind, I want it to howl through the cavities of my ribcage. What secrets does it carry? What urgent message? I want to read it the way I try to read your eyes in the light from the cluster of votives on my nightstand, small hot candles in bits of tin. I turn away from you to light them, I flick the lighter again and again, and fish their wicks from the clear wax. I can feel your hand running up my thigh, and this is why I cannot speak- don’t you know that we’re already talking, don’t you know that you have an encyclopedia in your eyes? We talk so much my voice is hoarse from the silence. I am used up, depleted. I only want to lie in your arms and hear your hands singing. I only want to float on the ocean and dream.

Flickr: Your Photostream.  Just updated my Flickr Portfolio

Here’s a follow-up post on our roadtrip to Laiya, Batangas last Saturday. What’s an entry about the beach without actually having shown a photograph of the shore, right? So here you go.

It was just great timing to have a beach trip that day: a sunny weather (though some clouds passed by, but that’s no problem- adds element to my photos), an uncrowded beach and good people to spend time with.

L-R: Diwa, Aika, Shobe.

Meet some of my girlfriends back from highschool.

Last Friday, Diwa informed us of our Batangas trip. Aika and Shobe are pursuing their post-grad course, Law and Medicine respectively, and it was their last weekend off before they drown themselves in their pile of readings and books so it was decided that a beach trip to Batangas would be their way of ending their semestral break.

It was so much fun having a roadtrip with highschool classmates. Especially if it’s spent on the beach. The trip was extra fun because we got lost and certain things happened along the way that were not expected. All in all, this trip wouldn’t have been a blast if those occurrences didn’t happen. It made the whole thing extra memorable.

“It’s about remembering, memorizing and then learning how to unlock the way to where you are going….” Kate was now ruminating about what the marlin man said.

If he was good at thinking about the single side of an idea and going over it and over every which way, she was good at ruminating and identifying feelings and the physical sensation that went with the idea to the point that each feeling was felt intensely in the moment as if for the first time.

In many cases it was a nightmare having to live the sensations repeatedly of longing, sadness, anger, passion, pleasure, then shyness, timidity, and fear. Most days she usually toggled in and through either axis and back again. Better than being stuck at one end or the other she thought. Waiting patiently for her middle ground she heard “….unlock the way to where you are going”.

Cabo you beguile me. I feel dizzy from your beauty and more than any thing I need an anchor to go with my compass, do you think you could have someone deliver that to my night side table? Really I’ve come to Cabo to forget, to unlearn and to acquire amnesia and wipe the slate clean. I’ve decided I’m not going to figure out the way I’m going to let the way find me. I’ve gotten into enough trouble ‘figuring’ marlin man, she said….as if he was with her and they were sitting in the Gazebo together having the conversation after lunch. There she chipped away at the alabaster stone she had brought with her to Cabo, sculpting a dove with chisels and hammer from Long Island, NY. He musing after all species of birds, their mating and nesting habits, identifying each bird as it passed by.

“Cactus Club Glass Bottom Boat Rentals in Cabo, can I help you” answered the voice.

“Roberto? asked Kate

“No sorry Marlin Man is gone up the coast for a couple of weeks.” said the voice.

“Oh—I see, do you know when he will be returning?”

“Ya never know with that guy, he’s done this before lots a times, he usually is outta here for at least a couple weeks and he doesn’t like to give any dates of return because well—I know this is going to sound weird, until he’s seen a sighting….”

“I know, I understand, no it’s not weird. Well when he returns could you mention I called, I’ll be leaving Cabo very soon and I wanted to say good-bye.” she said quietly

“Pardon….alrighty, but don’t hold your breath, Roberto goes to the beat of his own drum and I’m telling you it’s a real different beat…when he gets into studying those birds and fish—well let’s just say he’s a goner, you know like gone dark, way dark into the wildlife world, if you know what I mean!”

“Yes I know what you mean, well thank you and again thanks for giving me a break on the rental of the boat”

“Any time, just remember us again when come down….”

“Oh I will, I don’t forget easily, good-bye.”

From the balcony of her second floor room she saw the boats busily coming and going from the port. Another perfect day in Cabo, blue sky with a warm breeze beckoning sun worshipers and first time snorkelers to the beach. Kate grabbed her binoculars and panned across the horizon. Taken by the sun shining off the water like a Salvador Dali painting that depicted giant gleaming royal jewels floating and bobbing in the water, she giggled. This trip had been something else altogether. Who could have known that the trip would wind through the darkness of a long tunnel and come out into full ebullient light.

The view from the balcony took her away to the Giggling Marlin and she began to replay the story. Closing her eyes she dove down into the bottom of her imagination and pictured the teeming fish circling slow motion through the corallium rubrum. Soundless waves enveloped her body happily she had overcome her fear of being under for longer periods of time, down here everything was safe, quiet—no interuptions. With no route for the outside world to reach her, she held on to the slippery shell of a sea turtle and felt her own tears mingle with the salt water remembering yet another fact the marlin man had mentioned, that there were unconfirmed reports this year of 35,000 gone dark, this time permanently.

Nuit, novembre 2009
Aquarelle sur papier, 24.2×33.3cm

Night, November 2009
Watercolor on paper, 24.2×33.3cm

夜、２００９年１１月
紙に水彩、２４．２×３３．３ｃｍ

Original digital painting of dusk at sea.

in brilliant color
dusk brushes strokes of beauty
in the fold of waves

Today is different. I am pleasantly lost at sea. Traveling the depths of my soul, I paint my way up to the surface. No boat to carry me. No trees in sight to ground me. Do not disturb this quiet solitude. It has swallowed me in pleasure and I am not ready to be found.

– genece hamby, contemporary artist
To purchase Dusk at Sea, http://www.shibuistudio.com/duskatsea.html

I have re-edited the photos from one of my favourite early posts, Molly and the Sea.

They are inspired by this poem and are much better seen larger and in sequence

here.

Maggie and Milly and Molly and May

by e.e. cummings

maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach (to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn’t remember her troubles,and

milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and

may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)
it’s always ourselves we find in the sea

Okay, so yes. I know that it has been an incredibly long time since I last posted on my blog. I apologize profusely. However, this has been a stressful week at school for me, and I’m sure many of you can sympathize with me.

As for the book, it continues to surprise me. Banville really knows how to spin a yarn that ties you up, sits you down and doesn’t let you go.

The make-up of the story is very unconventional, which may be why many people don’t appreciate it. Instead of using a natural time-line, he skips all over the place mixing memory with the present moment.

This style of writing is quite refreshing, in all actuality. It reminds me of the way my own mind works. Moving smoothly from one topic to another without a moment’s pause between.

For instance, he moves straight from reminiscing about his now-deceased wife to remembering a meal with his daughter to seeing his childhood friends running down the street in his mind.

He continues to make small mentions of the fact that he’s dead – similar to the one spoken of in my last post. Things like while I was on earth, when we were around; things like that.

The story is heart-wrenchingly sad while being incredibly uplifting. The feelings that run through your mind while pouring through a past yearbook would compare to this.

The look at his relationship with his slightly distanced daughter make one wish to bring their own family closer while hearing about his wife’s terminal illness brings one to examine what you are doing with your life and how to make it better.

Also it is interesting to note the kind of relationships he recollects from his childhood. Banville must have an incredible memory, for the best writing is brought from one’s own mind. He creates the sorts of childish relationships we all have: crushes, instant best friends, head-scratching confusion over why someone does one thing and not another.

All this to say that I am thoroughly enjoying this book and look forward to seeing where it leads. I am currently at page 79 out of 195. Part I of the book ends at page 97, so I am getting close to the halfway point.

I will be sure to keep you updated more often.

Here’s a quote as restitution for my lack of updating:

“The road to happiness lies in two simple principles; find what interests you and that you can do well, and put your whole soul into it – every bit of energy and ambition and natural ability you have.” -John D. Rockefeller

Original painting of the blue sky refracting light on the sea at dawn.

blue skies bending down
refracting light deep and wide
water reaches up

Though I don’t exhibit my “sea” paintings, I love painting them. 90% of my time painting is digital. The other 10% is spent painting on canvas using heavy body acrylics. When I do paint on canvas, I find myself drawn to painting the sea. There’s a different connection for me with a brush in my hand versus a stylus pen used in digital painting. The lightness of a brush, its texture, the smell of the paint, the organic flow that puts me in the deepest part of my emotional being where I connect profoundly with the sea.

This time I was determined, it had taken me way to long to find it in the first place.  No more half-assed efforts of fooling around with tourists in El Squidroe and Cabo Wabo while exchanging travel stories and fateful nights at local pubs. I was done with that. I needed that bloody compass!

I gazed through the glass bottom boat that still afternoon, feeling a slight exhilaration. I looked closer than I had ever before, there, on the ocean floor, was my compass.

I was relieved the water was still today and with the quiet, I was lulled deep into my soul and brought down to a dream state or was it just the effect of looking through the glass that magnified everything below? Toward the water I peered and I found myself pressing my nose up against the glass wanting to feel the fish—wanting to feel myself within again. All that mattered were those silky bodies that eluded me just like my compass. They passed by silently in continuous motion while my compass shone with a brilliance I had not seen before. As if I was discovering it for the first time I felt a ripple of delight return. With the glimmering instrument came a small hope. It had only been seven days since I had descended into my own private hell.

Fish my favorite; the best sign—aka the ‘dooms day sign’, I call it….

If you are a Pisces you are doomed to a life of emotions and feelings that are so intense they want to burst out of you. Melancholy is often the close cousin to the intensity so you travel between the two poles drifting and riding currents and waves of e-motion. As in Physics where “a periodic disturbance of the particles of a substance that may be propagated without net movement of the particles, such as in the passage of undulating motion, heat, or sound”. Even standing waves are a “vibration of a whole system where some points remain fixed, while others between them vibrate with maximum amplitude”. Thanks, I could always rely on physics definitions to help me explain what it is like to be me.

I looked back to the man guiding the boat,

“You like those fish, don’t you” he said. “Yes”, I replied

I studied his face intently he seemed kind. Though I noticed that sometimes he went all quiet and would close his eyes as if he was going to a far away place, he must have done this many times before because it came so naturally to him. He sailed the boat with his eyes closed, he felt the wind on his face and slowly his lips curled into a relaxed smile.

The Cactus Club said that he was experienced at boating and fishing. He had come down to study the native animals and marine life of the region because he was a wildlife biologist but he ended up staying longer than the contract he signed. His quietness I didn’t mind because in between he would make me laugh with his wit, knowledge and humour and that afternoon it became like a balm for my soul. It seemed all was right with the world now. I was laughing in the Cabo sun, soaking in the paradise around me. Finding my compass returned me to my former tranquility which I had lost with the compass.

“Marlins….”, he trailed off. “I beg your pardon”, I retorted.

“I have known one”, he said seriously.

“What do you mean?”, I replied.

“Well there was a story in 2007 that said, marine biologists discovered a kind of living ghost — a giant predatory fish with a sword-like bill and a tail so blue it seemed to glow. The round scale Spearfish was documented just twice in the last century. Experts blame the case of mistaken identity, at least in part, on the Spearfish’s resemblance to the white marlin. It was in the news and everything on NPR as a matter of fact….” again he trailed off and looked towards Los Arcos, he was lost in thought.

“So what are you saying? Do you mean that you have seen one of those living ghost fish?” I asked him.

“Ok, can you keep a secret? Not just a small one but probably the biggest secret you have ever kept.” he said.

“Um, well—I’m not sure. I guess so. Your secret would be safe with me since I will be leaving Cabo and returning north shortly.” I quipped.

“I caught one a while back and now, I have the gift”, his face was beaming with accomplishment.

“The gift…?” I said in disbelief.

“Yeah, I’ll give you a clue. We’ve been doing it all afternoon in between the quiet moments!” he spoke quickly now yet his voice was hushed.

“Huh?”, I was dumbstruck to what was he referring to.

I started to feel claustrophobic, I wanted off the boat now, was this going to get all strange and go sideways on me like that time I went to that wooden boat show and was forever trying to get away from the conversation that would never end with Billie Gibson?

“Laughing, you know giggling!” he said deadpan.

“I’m sorry I still don’t follow you” I said confused.

“This is the secret part now, are you ready?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

“Ok, ready” I said hesitantly.

“The legend is that when you a catch a ghost marlin you are given the gift of humour then, you are able to make people laugh and giggle in a kind of supernatural way, anytime of day or night!” he said.

“Is that why that nightclub is called the Giggling Marlin?” I asked.

“Well, that story has circulated for a long time and I would say that establishment adopted the name after the legend. I mean who wouldn’t want to name their nightclub the Giggling Marlin!” he said smiling.

“So do many people know about this ‘famous’ catch of yours?” I wondered aloud.

“I only tell special people because most people cannot handle that kind of knowledge, you know the supernatural stuff and all. Of course whenever I start talking about it people think I’m a lunatic—you know crazy, nuts…. like as if all I think about are marlins…white ones, blues ones, even ghost ones…” he was a little quieter again and I noticed that we were almost back to town without even knowing that we had turned around.

We got back to port and started to unload. I asked him if he would be around since I needed a diver to retrieve my compass. He said he would be happy to help me since he knew the waters well and could tell that it was important to me.

“How can I pay you?” I asked.

“Would you go to the Giggling Marlin this evening with me? They have a great view of Place del’amour and they have this giant mural on the wall inside with the history of marlins and there is blue ones and white ones, black marlins and striped ones, ghost….” he noticed my face and trailed off.

I was feeling awkward now, I didn’t want to make this into a big deal. I took a deep breath. It had been a while since the last time I had gone in there. I wasn’t interested in meeting any local fisher folk. The Giggling Marlin was the place to party, every boat that came into port emptied regularly into the nightclub, somewhat like the Buck and Ear in Steveston.

I hesitated, he was looking off in the distance in that same way, somewhat contented with his thoughts yet patiently waiting for my response.

“All right, but only one drink, okay”? I said shakily.

“You do me honour, dear Lady” he replied respectfully.

So we met at the Giggling Marlin that evening. We put a timer on that he had brought, we timed how long it took him to tell me the entire story from beginning to end of the ‘Catch of the Ghost Marlin’! I remember giggling when he brought out the timer, since I was well familiar with them!

That evening I felt I had a permanent smile pasted on my face. My cheeks ached from laughing so much and from one glass of white wine I was flushed. He drank a beer from a local micro brewery called, Cabo Cabo.

“I want you to know it’s true, every last word of it!” he exclaimed.

I left the Giggling Marlin not long after, it had been a long giggling day and I was tired but refreshed from laughing so much. We agreed to meet at the Cactus Club in the morning about 10:30 am to set sail to find my compass but only after he had had his breakfast and Gazebo time, which until Cabo San Lucas he had never experienced. Now he made it a regular part of his day since in that place he always seemed to come out changed.

The man who was the wildlife biologist who was also into marine biology, walked down the pier into the night and I turned resolutely with broad strides back to my room.

Upon entry I struggled to find the light and hit my hip on the edge of the counter because I was moving so fast. Switching the light on an unusual reflection caught my eye.

There on my night side table was my compass, polished and shining and set carefully beside it was his marlinspike.

A little seascape made from reminants of my 2007 sanibel vacation.

It’s time to make my reservations for another spring break by the sea. Every year I pick out a cottage on-line with a preconceived notion of how it will look. It’s always perfectly fine and usually quite lovely but never exactly as I envision. Below is what I’ve imagined for this year…

Standing alone in the silent little rented cottage, she sighed and sat down in a comfy slip covered chair near the open window. The warm salty breeze felt wonderful against her skin. She loved the way the long sheer curtains blew across the floor. It felt as though the room was alive and breathing.    This cottage had a life of its own and somehow offered a sense of companionship. The old girl had once been a care takers cottage to the slightly dilapidated mansion up the hill.  It wasn’t in the best of shape and the weeds and wild roses had grown up all around but she kind of liked it that way. It felt hidden and safe, just like her secrets; the ones that she had locked away in the vault so long ago. This cabin was part of a cottage row and the closest one to the sea. All of the cottages were old and failing but somehow this old girl had fared the best. She was still quite structurally sound. The inside was painted a creamy Casablanca white. The ceiling was cedar and there was a large wooden beam across the middle. The cupboards were cottage blue with weathered metal handles. The square kitchen table had a chopping block for a top, and faded blue legs. The chairs were wooden, straight back- two painted cottage blue and the other two in a sunny yellow. The appliances were white, quite old but still very functional.  The floor boards were wide wooden planks and in some places the gaps between them were wide enough to see the sandy soil below. She didn’t mind and felt a kindred spirit toward this old place.  The gardens, now slightly overgrown, must have been someone’s pride and joy. There were so many wonderful flowers that had been carefully planted along the picket fence. The colors of the roses blended together perfectly. The soft peachy roses next the baby pinks then fading into the creamy off-whites and finally a stellar white to end the row. She loved the honey suckle vine that climbed the trellis wall; the smell was divine.

The setting here was lovely and mysterious. The old cottages seemed all but forgotten and the intriguing Mansion on the hill looked so ominous. All of this was constructed so masterfully on beautifully lush grounds overlooking the sea.

I have a vivid imagination that is hard to live up to. Enough day dreaming- off to work!

xo-jj