7/17/2006 - Snot check

I have, after much consideration and pondering of the subject, decided that scuba diving is just not something that allows one to be entirely as ladylike as one would perhaps like. In fact, I'm beginning to believe that good manners and socially expected standards of cleanliness and appearance requirements are mutually exclusive with the sport of scuba diving.

Snot, for example, is just not accepted by society. If someone was to walk around with a big goober stuck to their forehead, most people would eye them very warily and keep well away, instantly labelling said person as an "unhygienic" [dear god my spelling ability has departed!] weirdo who should be avoided at all costs for fear of getting too close to those bits of totally disgusting slime.

Amongst divers, snot isn't seen as such a big no-no. Well, it's not really something everyone runs around with because it's in fashion, but most people are okay with a bit of snot here and there. Personally, I find those bits of snot stuck to other people's noses and foreheads very distracting - I keep staring at them with a morbid fascination, wondering how I should tell the person that "excuse me, mate, but you have a booger the size of Antarctica stuck to your forehead and it's very distracting so please wipe it off," considering I don't always know them well and it feels a bit rude to tell someone about their snot.

These days I yell out "Snot check!" on the boat after every dive, and it's quite amusing to watch my divers glance around at each other and discretely point out tremendous bits of goop somehow managing to defy gravity by sticking too damn well.

So yes, having a snot check is accepted by diving society. It is not so much accepted in normal society given the fact that most people don't walk around with snot stuck to their face.

From a girly and totally-anal-tendencies poing of view, snot is disgusting. I am always paranoid I have goobers stuck to me and often wash my face several times before asking a trusted dive buddy whether "i'm good". Thankfully they're all understanding of my morbid snot-fear and as such treat me with kid gloves and never lie to me. Really.

Another thing that totally grosses me out is spitting. Especially when people 'gorbie'. And yet, on the dive boat, we encourage people to spit. Well, I don't, I encourage them to buy artificial spit-in-a-bottle because even though they may all believe the motto "the greener the cleaner" I'm totally of the opinion that anything that green and that slimey is So. Not. Good.

Once again, an example of habit which most of society frowns upon which is an accepted practice in scuba divers. Oh sure, when the guys are all boozed up or running around on the football field in very short, tight shorts, they're allowed to spit because they're guys and guys do that sort of thing (and also, those shorts make most women forgive anything anyway). Normally though, most people who conform to society standards don't generally walk around slagging on pavements and windows and buses, if you get my drift. Much less stick their fingers in the spit and rub it around... Eeeewwww....

I love diving, but even I have my limits as to grossness factor which I'll let myself sink too. Call me girly, call me wussy, call me whatever you want, but the fact is most dive shops sell artificial spit and they'll continue to sell it because there's a large proportion of people who are moving beyond the dark ages of spitting and rinsing... Remember, once upon a time people never used to brush their teeth either!

And snot? I don't anticipate any manufacturer coming up with an 'anti-snot spray' in the near future, so I imagine I'll just have to keep doing my snot checks on deck. Besides, they're good for a laugh!

7/4/2006 - The Why?

Why do I not only willing subject myself to freezing my ass off, but look forward to it?

I was born and bred in the tropics. A cold winter was one where the thermometer dipped perilously close to 25*C; if it dropped BELOW 25 then DAMN it was COLD!

And then for some insane reason to do with lifestyle and blah blah blah, my parents dragged me (kicking and screaming, I might add) to Antarctica. Well, close enough anyway. Looking at the mercury in the mornings has become a game which holds me with a morbid fascination - if it's near 5*C then it's a warm morning. I never, EVER thought I'd hear myself say that, but apparently people acclimatise.

And the water temperature? I did some spectacular dives over the weekend - all below 10*C. The water temp will still drop, given we're not in the heart of winter yet, and I'm waiting to see how low it will dip this year. Last year we hit 7*C on the beach by my house; I imagine this year it will touch 6.5*C if not lower given how early things have dropped.

I guess a lot of you guys reading this will be laughing at the whinings of a girl who dislikes the cold intensely. I dive in a drysuit, and I layer myself up so thick under the drysuit with thermals and trakkies and socks (at least three pairs most dives) and I'm amazed I fit into my suit! Thankfully I've lost a little weight in the years since I got my suit, and it's gotten a lot roomier which is great; I get to add more layers!

Still, this weekend just gone is the first time I've found myself on the boat with my hood and gloves on before the dive and wondering if I was really going to commit my soul to the deep given the sheer agony my fingers experience when I defrost with a hot water bottle and soup between dives. It's ridiculous, really, to be so sooky about the cold.

To my credit, it has been the coldest is has been for a long, long long time so I'm NOT just being wussy. But still. I dive with people that jump into the water in wetsuits. WETSUITS. That would kill me, I think.

I've only ever done two dives where the water temperature was above 20*C; both on the Great Barrier Reef. Most of my diving the water temp has hovered around 12-14*C, with the occassional jaunts a little further north where they might hit 18*C on a regular basis.

At this very point in time, where my fingers are literally blue with cold (I took my gloves off to type this) I'm really, really considering packing up my dive gear and moving to the tropics where it gets digustingly hot and sweaty and all you have to do to cool down is throw the gear on and jump in. And if you happened to have a job on one of the millions of dive boats up there, that wouldn't be a hassle!

6/10/2006 - Gumby Moments

Some days my idiocy makes me want to put the reg in my mouth and bury my head under the waves and never, NEVER return. We have this beautiful word for divers who make dumb mistakes - a "Gumby Diver". Everyone suffers from gumby moments at one point or another. Inevitably, the newbies are Gumbies more often than not, but slowly you stop being a Gumby and move into the ranks of "Diver". This doesn't mean you stop having Gumby Moments.

I've had more Gumby Moments than I know what to do with - fairly stupid acts which my DMTs and friends never cease to let me forget. Amongst my more stellar Gumby moments include a day where we went out on a few exploratories, and rather than everyone getting the gear on to dive a site we had never tried before, I volunteered to free dive down and have a quick squiz and give an opinion.

I threw the weightbelt on quite eagerly (was very keen to get in), and jumped over board within two seconds. It took me about five kicks and a strange blurry vision for me to figure out that in my overeagerness to get in, I'd forgotten to put my mask and fins on....  Needless to say, that moment has been reminisced countless times over the last few years.

Another particularly brilliant day was during on OW course not so long ago. I'd been lecturing my DMT on the importance of being prepared [he'd been fairly lax on the last course, and I wasn't very impressed] with spares and gear and double checking everything. Of course, we'd no sooner arrived than things started to go wrong. First, my gear tub fell out of my car and I proceeded to smash my snorkel (don't ask, very complicated achievement but I managed to do it quite spectacularly). Then we started gearing up... only I'd forgotten to bring a wetsuit for a student AND my own reg set. And of course the site where we did our OW training was a good 40 minutes away from the dive lodge where all our gear is kept, so I had no hope of saving face without creating some very obvious delays.

Thankfully my DMT was a quick study and had not only packed a spare set of regs (with a drysuit inflator, bless his soul!) but he'd also grabbed a wetsuit of the exact same size we needed because it was 'too warm for a drysuit' (I don't believe it's ever too warm for a drysuit... well, maybe, but not where we dive!). So the day wasn't lost, but the mockage I endured for that (from both students AND DMT) has also suceeded in hanging around for a long, long time.

I know I'm not the only one who regularly has Gumby Moments, but unfortunately I'm female and sort-of-blond and so I tend to get picked on a lot more by the guys than any of the other Gumby moments they commit. Still, I've seen them commit some spectacularly stupid things - like forgetting to zip up drysuits, not turning on air, not putting on masks, forgetting their lights on a night dive... Attempting to take gear off without unclipping hoses and buckles and losing their tempers because "THE GEAR WON'T COME OFF, DAMN IT!"

So what are your Gumby moments? Any stellar acts of stupidity and silliness you'd like to share?

5/27/2006 - The Essentials

There are some cliches and stereotypes in life that are just plain offensive, and then there are some that are pretty spot on for some of us! Being female - and fairly proud of that fact  - I always tend to overpack whenever I go away. Whether it's a weekend trip or a two week holiday, my bags and suitcases always seem to take up more space and weigh more than everyone else's.

Packing is a very time consuming and strategic activity. One would think, that because I travel to a divelodge most weekends, that I'd have the routine pretty much organised and figured out already. Guess again!

Every week it's the same thing - I'll leave it until the last minute and then rush around frantically, trying to make sure I don't forget anything. Yes, I know that majority of my time will be spent underwater blowing bubbles in my suit, without having to worry about things like make up and clothing and hair styles... however, those periods between dives, where everyone hangs out together and socialises are the periods of concern; especially when that guy is there and I need to make sure I don't look like a frump. So what if everyone else is sproting sea-hair and thermals and trakkies with holes in the knees, I can't seem to let myself do that because he is there and God forbid he sees me with messy hair when I'm not in a wetsuit!

Terribly, terribly vain of me, I know.

However, it's the only reason I always pack my hairdryer. And my makeup kit. And my jewellery box. Not to mention a few changes of clothes (it gets wet and muddy quickly and then clothes tend to get dirty) and matching shoes and a few hundred pairs of socks (my feet absolutely freeze and as yet that guy has not offered to warm my toes for me). I'm hopelessly shallow, I know. So sue me.

Anyway, more often than not I am usually the only female present at our club weekends, and as most of these guys are like brothers to me, they all feel they have the right to mercilessly mock me about my inability to "Pack Properly, Gracie!" Especially, they seem to feel it's necessary for them to mock the make-up kit.

I also tend to overpack with my dive gear. You never know when you might need a reel. Or a monkey wrench. Or spare batteries. Or a mouthpiece. Or tank bands. Or a spare weight belt buckle. Even a spare set of fins comes in handy occassionaly...

And while the guys may mock me mercilessly, guess who they turn to first if they just happen to need something? "Grace, you don't maybe have a set of tweezers, do you?"

Of course I do. In my make-up kit.

"Grace, you don't maybe have a pair of scissors, do you?"

Sure I do. In my make-up kit.

"Hey, Grace, have you got a safety pin?"

Guess what. Make-up kit is getting light these days.... I've had to dish out tweezers and nail-clippers and sorbolene cream and little make-up brushes and cotton buds and nail polish remover.... and my spares box gets about a 1/4 of the use my make-up kit does.

These days I've gotten smart - what, they thought I didn't listen to their mocking about my inability to pack? I've simply transferred my make-up kit into my spares kit (well, actually, it went the other way around because my make-up kit is a little bigger than the spares box I have!) and carry the one box around with me. Initially, they were all a little wary about digging around in a woman's make-up kit (obviously a bit scared of what they might find in there!) but it's not uncommon for me to find a very messy make-up kit if I left it lying around without supervision. I'm a little amused by the way they've all adopted my make-up kit (and call it such, as opposed to a "Save a Dive" kit), and am beginning to worry that they're getting to comfortable about using it - I'm waiting for them to start experimenting with Mascara and blush!!

Of course, the whole make-up kit/save a dive kit in one handy container is pretty damn useful for me too - it means that I can fix my make-up sooner and look prettier quicker for that guy, who still hasn't worked out that all the hassle and fuss and time-wasting with the make-up is purely for his benefit.

What, you honestly think that if I wasn't trying to impress someone, I'd carry around a hairdryer voluntarily?! :P

5/26/2006 - Fast becoming addicted

It's a beautifully calm day outside. From my balcony I can see the breakers washing over the sand, the water water looks absolutely devince. Smooth like caramel, the barest glints of sparkle from the sunlight striking the odd bit of swell.

And here I am inside, at my computer, fastidiously typing away at assignments and work and research.

I hate this time of year when the weather has settled for that brief lull between autumn and winter, and the world hangs poised for it to tip into storms and frosts and wind. The leaves have almost all fallen from the trees leaving their bare fingers reaching desperately toward the grey skies. When I walk down the grey cobblestone road on my way to my office I can hear my boots crunching through them, feel the rustling as they are crushed beneath my toes.

I hate this time of year when the water is so still, waiting, and I can't dive because work hums along steadily and life keeps moving even though the waters have, for that brief period, stopped. There's an itch in my soul to pull my worn BC from its hanger and simply wonder down to the beachfront by myself. The illicit thrill of gearing up alone and facing the breakers, knowing that it's just you and the ocean and you hope to God you aren't challenging it on a day where it doesn't feel like fooling around.

There's a primal part of me that's let go when I'm on the water, whether it's on one of the boats as we hurtle over the swell and windchop with the saltspray flying across my skin and the wind tearing at my hair with playful fingers, or whether it's taking a walk on a beach with coarse white-blond sand and crushed shells that glint pink and mauve and pearl in the sunset while the grasses whisper in the breeze.

It's hard to find that release sometimes, when life is so busy and time is so fast. It feels overly melodramatic and pretentious to say that I ache for a dive, but I do. I haven't been in the water for over a week, and there's a feeling of completion missing from me when I can't still feel salt in my hair and my skin stretched dry with sunburn and cold and wind.

It's an addiction not many understand, and fewer are able to comprehend if they don't dive themselves. I find it hard after a week or two of not diving; I know there are some of reading this who go for months without the opporunity to get wet and blow bubbles, and I'm absolutely amazed that you can hold out for that long. One of my favourite sites is two minutes from my house. I dive it at night and on weekends and when I teach and sometimes just for the sake of a dive. Another I have to drive for thirty five minutes to get there, but it's worth every rotation of the wheels on my car for beauty and presence and unspoilt growth. Shallow and tucked out of a sight, it looks so unassuming from the surface, and yet, underwater...

It is not a sad indication of my life that I prefer the company of fish and crabs and bubbles, and the silence of a buddy with a camera, over and above the company of others.

5/24/2006 - Two Lives

I've discovered recently that my life has this huge split down the middle - my Diving Life and my Other Life. It doesn't feel as though there's anyway to reconnect the two, and I'm not sure trying to merge them would be a good idea... but at the same, clinging frantically to two different worlds is really starting to wreak havoc with my arms.

Other Life is friends and people with whom I work. It's trying to make a living. Live a life that can go on beyond the bubbles and the neoprene, if such a thing could even exist.

And then there's the Diving Life, that is all about bubbles and beauty and passion and people who are happy for me to be me. They like my quirks and leave no question in my mind that they like having me around. Such a fresh change from the effort required by other friendships and formalities and life.

Once you've dived with someone you have a tie with them; before you go down you're strangers and by the time you come up it's as though you've known each other for years. You've shared a moment with that person that few other people would understand.

I guess it's inevitable then, that when you dive with the same people all the time you automatically grow closer to them, more so than you normally would.

Diving has brought more to my life than just an enjoyable hobby. It's given me direction and confidence and the belief in myself as person who other people could possibly like. It's also brought some amazing people as both students and dive buddies, including two people who I would never have thought would be people who I reffered to as my best friends. And yet, here I am, the person I've become because of the influence of a single breath underwater for the first time. 

So two lives, two personas, two directions. The allure of diving is certainly more appealing, but I was raised with a realism (that now borders on cynicism and pessimism) and the belief to always be prepared for the worse. Once I'm prepared, I'll blow bubbles 24/7, but for now, I guess, it's a matter of balancing the two worlds on my shoulders until something shifts and a new balance is reached.

5/24/2006 - Obligatory Introductory Post

Self-wise: My life is diving. Young female instructor. Been diving for a while. Have aspirations to be an author maybe, or a flight attendant. Perhaps a permanent back-packer. Something to get me out in the world.

Hobby-wise: I dive more than anything else in my life. Several times a week. An addiction more potent than any other I've ever encountered. I'm getting into U/W photography and hope to maybe make it more than just a hobby at some stage, however at this stage my attempts will remain locked away in a box because I'm really just a beginning - to the point where I have to figure which button is on and which is off before I actually get around to taking the photos.

The photos used in the above banner ARE NOT MINE. They belong to divejunkie who has graciously given me permission to use them.

Past-wise: The usual culprits - school, after school life before diving, then LIFE.

Future-wise: The usual 2.5 kids, white picket fence, cat and maybe a dog. After I've lived a bit more, though. I've found the guy too, all that remains now is for him to realise that he's that guy and I'm that girl and everything should work out just fine.

Anything else?

I have a severe aversion to mess, have a tendency to sing too loudly in the car when I'm driving by myself despite the fact that my voice is somewhat flat [hence why rockstar has not made it onto my list of aspirations], and would one day like to learn how to speak French.

Oh, I love flowers, and attempted to grow some once. Two pansies I called Gillian and Gretrude, however they both perished within a week. I'm not particularly good at the plants thing, along with the singing thing.