I accomplished my first open water dives yesterday. I'm 1 day away from getting Open Water Scuba Certified.
It was quite fantastic.
We reviewed some of the things I learned during the shallow water dives, which had taken me to about 15ft of depth. I flooded my mask and cleared it under water, towed a "tired" diver and made switching from my regulator to my snorkel at the surface a routine.
But what was really cool was getting to explore the lagoon floor 40ft beneath the surface. On both dives, my instructor and I descended to a point where we couldn't see the surface anymore. I thought it'd get dark, but at that depth it was just as bright as the surface.
The highlight was on the first dive, where we saw a big lion fish. They look like fat armoured samuri with a fan of knives protruding from top and sides. This one's body was a little bigger than a basketball, but its spikes came out another 2ft. It was resting quietly beneath a coral ledge.
Next weekend we'll accomplish a few more tasks and explore 60ft down in two dives (the maximum I'm allowed to descend with this certification) and we'll send away for my PADI member card.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Lison's first impressions
I’ve been remiss in the updating of my blog lately, and for that I apologize. Mom was here for 19 days and so I was pretty occupied. On top of that, work is busier than ever. I’m now starting to wonder if 2 months will allow me to tie up all the loose ends.
I interviewed mom at the Tide Table Restaurant, only 30 minutes before we got on the shuttle to the airport for her departure.
Mom first realized that this place was far away when she could spy outside the window how tiny Majuro is. As the plane turned into its descent, she saw that the landing strip was almost as wide as the island itself.
As she emerged from the aircraft, the humidity hit her. That may just be because it was negative something degrees when she left Montreal, and it’s a balmy 85 degrees most days in the RMI.
As we drove the 10 miles from the airport to our house at Marshall Islands High School, mom saw that the place isn’t quite as poor as she’d envisioned, not as dirty, and people were dressed more nicely than she’d expected.
Perhaps Majuro is a place of contradictions. Because although her first impression was that this place was tiny, the 40 minute trip from the airport to home made the island seem bigger up close. Moreover, when on her last day here I asked what she hated most about Majuro, she immediately said “garbage”. When you walk by a dumpster you’re assaulted by the stench of wreaking dead leaves and rotting food. And there’s trash strewn all over the place. Without any household pick-up, people have a tendency to litter.
What do you love the most about Majuro?
“I love the women.” The women she interacted with “really wanted more for their children; worked hard and get involved. They’re loving, caring and so beautiful when they smile.”
The men on the other hand, surprised. They’ll stare at you, but when you look them in the eyes they look down and away. “In other places I’ve been, they’ll keep checking you out.” But here there’s a shyness or meekness.
What was the hardest thing about being in Majuro?
“Being from Canada, it was hard to dress properly.” It’s hot and cumbersome to dress in full length skirt and t-shirt in the intense equatorial heat. In fact, this was the aspect that helped mom realize that she wouldn’t want to live in the Marshall Islands.
What was your worst experience?
Without a doubt: the boat trip to Arno atoll. It’s about 75 minutes away on really choppy open ocean. We heaved on the swells and got completely soaked. Luckily the Gravol we ingested kept us all from getting sea-sick. But the journey was still intense. Mom remarked, “At one point I was thinking about which cooler I’d use to help me float if we flipped over.”
What would you have brought that you didn’t bring?
A hammock!
(Luckily, Ali and I ordered one from REI and it just arrived. I tested it this weekend by hanging it from our coconut tree.)
I interviewed mom at the Tide Table Restaurant, only 30 minutes before we got on the shuttle to the airport for her departure.
Mom first realized that this place was far away when she could spy outside the window how tiny Majuro is. As the plane turned into its descent, she saw that the landing strip was almost as wide as the island itself.
As she emerged from the aircraft, the humidity hit her. That may just be because it was negative something degrees when she left Montreal, and it’s a balmy 85 degrees most days in the RMI.
As we drove the 10 miles from the airport to our house at Marshall Islands High School, mom saw that the place isn’t quite as poor as she’d envisioned, not as dirty, and people were dressed more nicely than she’d expected.
Perhaps Majuro is a place of contradictions. Because although her first impression was that this place was tiny, the 40 minute trip from the airport to home made the island seem bigger up close. Moreover, when on her last day here I asked what she hated most about Majuro, she immediately said “garbage”. When you walk by a dumpster you’re assaulted by the stench of wreaking dead leaves and rotting food. And there’s trash strewn all over the place. Without any household pick-up, people have a tendency to litter.
What do you love the most about Majuro?
“I love the women.” The women she interacted with “really wanted more for their children; worked hard and get involved. They’re loving, caring and so beautiful when they smile.”
The men on the other hand, surprised. They’ll stare at you, but when you look them in the eyes they look down and away. “In other places I’ve been, they’ll keep checking you out.” But here there’s a shyness or meekness.
What was the hardest thing about being in Majuro?
“Being from Canada, it was hard to dress properly.” It’s hot and cumbersome to dress in full length skirt and t-shirt in the intense equatorial heat. In fact, this was the aspect that helped mom realize that she wouldn’t want to live in the Marshall Islands.
What was your worst experience?
Without a doubt: the boat trip to Arno atoll. It’s about 75 minutes away on really choppy open ocean. We heaved on the swells and got completely soaked. Luckily the Gravol we ingested kept us all from getting sea-sick. But the journey was still intense. Mom remarked, “At one point I was thinking about which cooler I’d use to help me float if we flipped over.”
What would you have brought that you didn’t bring?
A hammock!
(Luckily, Ali and I ordered one from REI and it just arrived. I tested it this weekend by hanging it from our coconut tree.)
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Pass the microphone please
It's been a hectic week. I've helped to organize and now implement a 5 day conference for principals. It's the 3rd day today and I'm pausing here at the office to print a few materials and finish preparing my own workshop on school improvement planning (to be presented tomorrow). It's also been a great week because my mom arrived on Saturday and we've been enjoying her visit very much. I'll write more about that next week.
Yesterday I troubleshooted other presentations: Lights on, now off, powerpoint installed on laptop, projector focused, etc. One element in particular serves as a great metaphor for what I think a development practioner like myself should be doing. After a great presentation, we wanted to get principals' reactions. We were talking about how culture can hinder a principal's job (a thorny subject) and so I was passing a wireless microphone from person to person so that they could express their views.
By distributing the microphone I was helping the principals voice their concerns and work out their issues. In the end that's my role here in the RMI, to pass around the microphone, to facilitate the conversation that leads to improved schooling. It's up to the people here to take center stage and make the hard decisions.
"I'm Lubricant" might be another apt metaphor, but I decided that we've got too many other associations with that term, so I won't go there.
As a main organizer for the event I helped produce the objectives of the Principals Institute, create the daily agenda and organize airfares for all of the principals.
Unfortunately the airline is down - so those that could get here on the boats are the ones present.
The agenda, revised even the very day before the event, made planning really difficult. It's hard to tell people they've got presentations or Q&As to prepare if you're not sure yourself if and when that will happen. I got pretty frustrated about that. How do we plan a quality event if we can't simply agree on ground rules at the beginning?
But that's part of getting used to Marshallese culture, with it's "wait and see" mentality. In the end, things got off the ground without a hitch, and people are simply used to operating that way. My stress was unecessary.
Yesterday I troubleshooted other presentations: Lights on, now off, powerpoint installed on laptop, projector focused, etc. One element in particular serves as a great metaphor for what I think a development practioner like myself should be doing. After a great presentation, we wanted to get principals' reactions. We were talking about how culture can hinder a principal's job (a thorny subject) and so I was passing a wireless microphone from person to person so that they could express their views.
By distributing the microphone I was helping the principals voice their concerns and work out their issues. In the end that's my role here in the RMI, to pass around the microphone, to facilitate the conversation that leads to improved schooling. It's up to the people here to take center stage and make the hard decisions.
"I'm Lubricant" might be another apt metaphor, but I decided that we've got too many other associations with that term, so I won't go there.
As a main organizer for the event I helped produce the objectives of the Principals Institute, create the daily agenda and organize airfares for all of the principals.
Unfortunately the airline is down - so those that could get here on the boats are the ones present.
The agenda, revised even the very day before the event, made planning really difficult. It's hard to tell people they've got presentations or Q&As to prepare if you're not sure yourself if and when that will happen. I got pretty frustrated about that. How do we plan a quality event if we can't simply agree on ground rules at the beginning?
But that's part of getting used to Marshallese culture, with it's "wait and see" mentality. In the end, things got off the ground without a hitch, and people are simply used to operating that way. My stress was unecessary.
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