Under the Sea

Cedric meets Patrick

Zebra Spots

The final dhow trip of the season turned out to be amazing, filled with sunshine, warm waters and dhowsome divers who on the first day ran into a school of Pygmy Devil Rays, playfully offering us a glimpse of why we love being underwater so much. Two dives later and about to start our ascent my buddy and I were approached by an unexpected visitor, circling us languidly with two or so Remoras attached to her freckle-covered sides before abandoning us and slowly cruising back into the shadows of the sea.
The way she moved was utterly elegant and captivating, her long tail lazily propelling her out of sight and I had to curb my desire to swim after her. Sheer magnificence...
After our safety stop the novice diver and I were floating about awaiting for the boat to pick us up and she said that that was the biggest fish she had ever seen.
A real big fish. When I told her it was a Leopard shark she almost burst with excitement, our faces mirror images with shared laughter and happiness.
Except that I was wrong. It was not a Leopard shark.

To appease my OCD Nerd tendencies (I also entered 'do Tuna fish sleep?' in the search engine. You're about to do it too now) I looked for more information on the beauty with the cute spots & elongated tail and after trolling the web I came up with two different shark species: Triakis semifasciata (Leopard shark) and Stegostoma fasciatum (Zebra shark). The first one hangs out somewhere along the Pacific coast of North America so it seemed a no-brainer: The curious shark we saw was definitely a Zebra shark. With leopard spots. Not zebra stripes. But both common names are used interchangeably for the Stegostoma fasciatum.
D'oh. My head hurts.
As most marine life enthusiasts know the aquatic life is not shy at all when it comes to drastically altering their looks (or their sex, for that matter) and Zebra sharks belong to this colorful and diverse underwater carnival parade. In their juvenile state they look like they belong on the great African savanna until they dive into the tickle trunk of awesome outfits to emerge as polka-dotted adults. Simply amazing.

That same day was topped off by lounging on giant pillows in front of a bonfire on the beach together, a full moon illuminating the inky sky. I slept well that night, on the deck with the stars glittering above and the bio-luminescence dimly outlining the boat's hull. With the reassuring knowledge that a leopard-spotted Zebra shark was on the prowl somewhere below.

Zebra Spots

Showing her true stripes as a babe

Childhood

I was born in Oman. My only memories of those formative years are composed out of a few primitive yet powerful feelings, smells and images that pop up in my mind when I am confronted with certain triggers.

My mother used to give me unleavened Arabic flat-bread to munch on - a memory that came flooding back when I was in Jordan and got handed khobs, the same type of bread. But when it comes down to raisins I screw up my face. Most likely I had quite the overdose during my first five years on this earth.
As always we were living nearby the sea, and when I close my eyes I can recall our boat, it was black and red and my parents tell me that the rougher the waves were the more soundly their pint-sized kidlet slept. Some things never change, even when you grow up.
I don't remember much about going to school (then again I have trouble remembering university too) but I still have that red cup that has 'Ras Al Hambra Kindergarten' printed on it in white letters (an excellent vessel for gin & tonics on a hot summer's day)

Three decades later and I have returned to work and live in the vicinity of my birthplace. As a dive instructor I regularly dive in Oman and it thrills me to bits to be able to go back and have the opportunity to see where I came from through fresh eyes.
Whilst I am here I am planning to travel to Oman, this time not below the ocean's surface but on land. Hopefully my mother or father will come with me, and show me around. A full circle, and it feels as if everything falls into place.

Headphones

For over ten years I have worked as a dj with my own radio show. One of our essential tools of the trade (next to heaps & heaps of music!) are headphones, and this is where I have committed major sinful acts in the past.

I have lost count on how many pairs have bitten the dust in the decade that they have served as transmitters for my selfish sonic pleasure. I have been a most cruel headphones mistress and was reminded of this when I went through all of my gear before I left home: I found so many headphones, broken and dusty in a steam trunk or two...All forlorn and forgotten. I am not sure why I kept them, all hidden away. Perhaps a psychologist could stick an appropriate behavioral label on this. Sigh.

The good news is that my current headphones have been with me for TWO whole years. It is nothing short of a miracle and although the ear lining is severely deteriorating, falling off and sticking to my skin resembling some horrid eczema related to a medieval black plague they are still going strong and supplying me with the tunes that keep me bouncy and happy as a clam.

In fact, I like them so much that once they die (I am being realistic here) the replacement will be exactly the same Panasonic Clone. Unfortunately now another essential part is MIA. My MP3 Player with all my music went missing from my locker at my previous job, just before I left.
The only thing I can say to the one who took it I already said once before but I would like to say again:
May my collection of music lift your spirit and brighten your soul. Although you know how much music means to me I am glad you only took the digital versions.

Back home is where the originals are at. With my pals, safe and sound. In the mean time I get to buy a new MP3 Player and introduce my awesome loyal headphones to it. It will be groovy and soulful, I promise you that.

My headphones - as if they were this new and shiny

Dhowsome Love

After my second weekend diving expedition to Oman I now have developed a serious secret crush. Unfortunately we'll only be united for one more weekend before the seasonal Omani sailing trips stop, for it will become too hot here under the Arabic sun to sleep on the open deck, let alone fill tanks in the midday heat. This means no more shared star-lit nights on the water together...

So yeah, I keep daydreaming. Most fantasies involve loads of private time consisting out of lazy lay-in mornings and intimate candle-lit nights... It is so bad that I just want to move in, permanently and I'm normally not much of a nesting bird. But she certainly is something else.
It has only been two weekends but I know that this could blossom into a life long love. She is my Dream Gal.

...I want to sail her safely into one of the beautiful bays surrounding Gabriola Island and introduce her to my friends. I want to sling my hammock from her mast and I want to show her what cold water really feels like.

I am hopelessly in love with a Dhow.
My love fantasy includes refurbishing her into a houseboat complete with woodstove and amenities. It would be the most grand Romance of all Times...

The Love Boat