Tears in paradise

The sunny Sechelles.

What can I say? Its breathtaking. I still find myself after two weeks pinching myself in disbelief. Yup, this is where I live for the next 3 months. This is home, among the beautiful clear, warm waters, where huge granite boulders meet the sea in a splash of blue and grey.

When I arrived I was heartbroken, but the beautiful sunshine, and being reunited with my beloved coral has helped ease my sadness. After a day of settling into base, an old school camp by the sea, we were in the water.

I was quickly reminded of how much I LOVE diving. The meditative state you go into as you deflate your BCD and you’re below the water’s surface, drowning out the sounds of the world we know and leaving all worries behind. After one refresher dive we were straight into the science. 

We scribble on our slates as Xander, a lovely American staff, points to various coral. I recognise their features, small corallites, smooth colony surface, Porites, Poritiidae. Large corallites with separate walls in a uniform circular pattern, Monastrea, Faviidae. All the while fish swim past, and our bubbles rise to the surface 14 metres above. The water is warm, no wetsuit needed.

And so the first week goes. Diving and duties. Some days I help in the kitchen, using my enthusiasm and minimal culinary knowledge to whip up nutritious meals to satisfy the hunger you get when diving. Other days I prepare the boat and maintain grounds, or I sit manning the compressor as its engines hum, making the air and my bones vibrate, compressing air into tanks that allow us to pretend to be fish.

I battle with a cold but continue to dive. By the end of the first week my hearing is minimal and my sinuses are blocked. The weekend comes. We venture into Victoria, the capital and main town on Mahe. Its quiet, small and yet the traffic is terrible. But the sun is shining and its nice to check emails and remind myself of what is outside my new little bubble of paradise.

But news from home shakes my bubble. Grandma has passed away. She was 88 and one of my favourite people in the world. I loved her unconditionally and although she had a full, healthy, rich life, I can’t help but feel like she was taken away from me.

So, as I found out, via text, to another volunteer’s phone, at a bus stop in Victoria, in the sunny Seychelles. I cried. As my paradise was somewhat shattered the weather continues to contradict my mood. The sun shines, despite my tears and the waves still crash, despite my yearning to be completely still. The news shook the very pillars of my existence. With both my Grandma and Grandpa gone, I have lost my connection to California, my birth home.

For the second week I battle questions about where I belong, and how best to live my life, given how fast time goes. I think of the things I love: Cooper, Huay Pakoot, Dad, the mahouts, Meg, Polo... Coral. 

So as I try and deal with my grief in a communal living situation I find respite in the beautiful forms of coral as I learn about them, and daily explore their world. Until, I pushed my body too far. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a pretty emotional being, and well, when I’m sad, I get sick. So sick I got, and the cold progressed to a sinus infection, and in case you hadn’t noticed I am also pretty stubborn. I can’t breathe through my nose, so what, I’ll still dive. 

Last week, while at 14 metres I had a nose bleed, among the coral and nudibranchs. Apparently if your sinuses can’t equalise they pull fluids from the neighbouring tissues, i.e. blood. So for the next couple of the day I had, pardon my graphic detail, bloody snot. So, I took a couple of days off. Better to rest now and dive later. I kept myself busy with tasks around base and put in an extra effort to learn the coral I so desperately wanted to see under water.

And on Wednesday I was ready. Joy filled me as I felt myself sinking to the underwater world I’ve come to love. And what a dive it was, Olly, a funny, talented guitar playing statistician from London, Xander and I swayed in the surge spotting coral I knew and coral I should know. But again upon ascending to the surface I was greeted with handfuls of blood from my nose and mouth.

Not diving while on a diving project feels like being grounded (no pun intended). But again I busied myself and helped on the boats as much as possible. And yesterday I went for a snorkel with Tom, a fun, young man from Leeds, and we saw so much. In the crevices we found two different species of lobster, antennae groping the coral substrate, swiping at fish and our fins. In another we saw a juvenile lion fish, black spikes out as it glided toward the shore with each wave crash. And my favourite was the little colour-changing squid, only 10cm long that inked us as it fled (which I liken to pooping its pants as we sped after it).

So, as I wait for the sun to start falling to the horizon, I prepare myself to snorkel. To soak up this sunny paradise, all the while in the back of my mind, memories of my Grandma come and go. And as I battle with grief and the question of where I belong, I can’t help but smile, paradise is a good place to come to terms with these things.

Tears in paradise