O Rings and Breakfasts

My Chill-out day passed in the most pleasant of ways. I wandered, I took photos, I read, I chopped fruit into small chunks on my balcony and ate them one by one. At mid-day however, my phone shattered the temporary peace, my children wanted me to join them for lunch. My chill day was over!

Lunch was eaten, ice creams soon followed, my healthy regime of fruit and water destroyed in a moment. Steve returned at 1.30 from his day on the dive boat with tales of blown 'O' rings and elusive shrimps. He had been discussing with Nick, on the way out to the dive site, all his various diving disasters. The final query to Nick, asking if he had ever had to cope with an 'O' ring blow out underwater, was met with,

“It hasn't happened yet and I don't plan for it to happen!”

Seven minutes into their dive Steve swam over to Nick and pointed to his tank. Bubbles were steaming from the valve, spiralling upwards to the surface like some underwater geyser, the 'O' ring had blown! Nick stared at it in silent amazement, turned the air off and together they surfaced. The rig was removed and passed up to the boat, the 'O' rig was replaced and the rig was passed back into the water. Steve kitted up and they sank beneath the depths once more.

At the bottom Steve checked his air, 80 bar! Enough for possibly 5 to 10 minutes. They surfaced again, replaced the tank, reassembled the kit, and tried again. The rest of the dive progressed well, with both divers enjoying their search and find routine, as they scoured the depths for shrimps and other creatures. Nick took a selection of photos, Steve found more and more things to photograph and the dive was soon over.

Their second dive progressed without incident and they returned home with tales to tell. We took Steve home for a shower and a snooze before joining Kris and Steph for our evening meal. Another day over.


Wednesday was a snorkel day for Steve and myself, open water rescues scenarios for Lisa, plus an early morning breakfast in the bay. The alarm woke us at 5.45, the sun well above the horizon, we were expected at the dive shop by 6.20! If we were having Staff Discount, then we had to do Staff work! Steve and Lisa helped to load the van with the days requirements, while I sat silently contemplating the memo that Simon had sent out the week before. It read,

'Why is it that when there are 10 people to load the van each morning, you STILL manage to forget something!'

I wondered what today's 'missing item' would be. With the van loaded and on its way, we boarded the mini bus, following at a discreet distance. Tanks and equipment were unloaded at the dock, carried down a lot of steps and stored safely onto the boat. The next job was the assembly of everybody's kit. BCDs (Buoyancy Control Devices) were joined to tanks and regulators.



Air pressures were checked , Small BCDs were paired with the small wet suits, Large BCDs were draped with large wetsuits, ready for the customers arrival. Boxes were stored, storage bags were hidden and with the boat finally 'ship shape', we returned to the harbour side to find our breakfast.



The whole area around the harbour, is filled with shops, static stalls and tiny mobile stalls that can cook you up the most amazing breakfast in seconds. Rolls filled with eggs, rolls filled with meat, cheese, salad, chilli sauce or a combination of them all, rice with eggs, rice with meat, rice with fish, omelets cooked in your very own pan, noodle soup, iced coffee, strange smelling tea, or even a deep fried sea horse or two!
Lisa opted for a simple cheese roll, Steve joined Kris in a runny omelet, coffees arrived and breakfast was set.



A side note about the way ice is used, may be of interest at this point. Hot coffee is a rarely consumed in this hot climate, iced tea, iced coffee, iced cola in a bag, is more the norm. The ice is delivered to the side of the road in large slabs, these are then covered with a huge tarpaulin to keep off, whatever it is they need to keep off.






When ice is required by some-one, or some stall, they approach the ice slab guardian and request what ever amount they need. A chunk is then hacked off the ice mountain and moved to its new location. Sometimes on a push bike, sometimes in a carry bag, sometimes by hand. It is then smashed into smaller chunks and eventually ends in ones coffee, or other iced drink of choice.



Once you have witnessed this process, on the side of main road, or on the street pavement, or on the rat infested harbour slabs, one tries not to think about it ever again, and simply enjoys the cold drink as it passes down the throat!


With breakfast over, we returned to the boat in time to welcome the guests of the day. Ten fellow diver boarded, the lines were drawn in and we were off. As we approached the harbour mouth and slowed to allow a calm rendition of the 'Morning's Briefing', I noted with surprise that the tyres, usually used to protect the bow, were being drawn up onto the deck on the starboard side.

Sean completed the 'Boat's Brief' and we once again fired up the motor and headed out to sea. It takes about 45 minutes to reach the dive site, a trip I have now completed many times, a chance to enjoy the gentle swells and gaze at the lobster village en route. Today the ride proved to be slightly different.

As we cleared the lee of the first island, the full force of the wind hit us. Swells of 5 to 6 foot picked us up and dropped us with a large splash back into the sea. Belongings were soon being moved into the captain's cabin as more and more water splashed its way into the boat. Having decides that once I was wet, I was wet, I removed my sarong, stowed my bag and positioned myself to the front of the boat, starboard side. Standing, with a firm grip on the overhead hand rail, I abandoned myself to the cooling spray and waves.

We headed directly into the ever growing waves, each one picking us up high, before the anticipated slam into the trough sent the next wave careering over the front of the boat. I watched, in fascination, the way the waves rocked and moved us, I felt the rhythm in my knees, felt the deck move below my feet and kept myself fluid with each roll.

From a distance, two enormous waves were approaching. I knew the first wave would lift us, the second would probably break on us. I stood facing into the wind, ready for the wave, ready for the lift, ready for the huge drop. What I wasn't ready for was the way the centre benches, full of seated people, flew across the boat, the way the tanks broke loose, crashing onto their sides and the way the huge water butt fell from its shelf to the floor, smashing itself in the process. With my eyes fixed firmly on the horizon, knees absorbing the movement, I hadn't realised that the boat had nearly turned over, throwing customers and equipment around like toys. I had watched it approach, I had bent my knees and ridden out the movement, they had not. Kris quickly checked the customers while staff rescued the equipment.

Half a dozen more swells lifted and threw us away before our captain turned the boat quickly, cutting across the waves to have them to our rear, pushing us along and safe into the lee of the next island. Calm returned to the boat, gentle rocking replaced our maddened dance. People moved the benches and once again sat down. We had about ten minutes to restore the place until we broke out into unprotected waves again.

Our second pounding was much shorter lived than the first. No enormous waves attacked us. Huge waves picked us up and threw us to the floor, water ran in torrents down the length of the boat but adrenaline had hit in and everyone clung smiling to the hand rails, moving with the rhythm.

The dive site was reached without further drama, calm water surrounded Octopus Rock, people began to get ready for their dives. I looked back at the white cresting waves beyond the island. Forget snorkelling, I wanted to go back out there again!!!


Steve and I donned our masks and fins and slipped into the water. We had decided to follow Jordan and his two divers from the surface as they worked their way along the sea floor, searching for things of interest.



We repeatedly dove down to their sides, looking at what they were looking at and then returning to the surface for another breath. As they circled the large rock with a tiny swim through, Steve dove down and swam through the tiny hole. I had been through the swim-through with Kris earlier in the week but from the other side. The entrance looked quite small from this side. Steve surfaced saying to be careful of my back as I went through. I dove down, wiggled through the hole and was paying so much attention to my back clearance, I failed to notice how close the edge wall was, and scrapped my elbow!


I surfaced, annoyed with myself for being so careless and nursing a bleeding joint. We continued with our swim finding more and more swim through's along the way.



The wind, although lessened by the island, was still giving me a chill factor and I returned to the boat well before Steve to warm myself on the sheltered deck.

The divers returned soon after, changed their air supply and with lunch eaten we moved slightly along the coast to the second dive site. The shallow reef at Tri-Ming is teeming with life and I was soon absorbed within its ecosystem.

Long trumpet fish hung in the water, stripe legged shrimps clung under ledges, dragon fish lay silent on the sand. Reef watching is addictive, the more you look, the more you see, the more you want to look.

The wind once more drove me onto the hot sheltered deck where I rested from my exertions. The sun was hot and I was soon dozing with the gentle rocking. I awoke to the sound of engines. The two boats we were moored to were moving. Our rope was thrown back to us and we moved 75m to join the other two boats moored in the bay.

Warren surfaces beside the boat, a cheer went up from the Boat Dive Masters for his accuracy. Kris and Lisa surfaced at our original mooring spot, as did Steph and Sean with their divers. Jordan surfaced 50m beyond the original drop off point and looked longingly at the boat now over 100m away. With everyone else now on-board, Kris decided it was easier to pick him up along the way and the engine roared into life.

The pick up went smoothly, or as smoothly as the jeering crowd would allow. The divers were pulled on board as the wind began to whip around the bay. When the captain looked out of his cabin to check we were ready to leave, his baseball cap was picked up by a rogue gust and flung into the sea. Lisa, having just completed her second day of rescue Diver, shouted “Rescue Diver, let me through!” and dived off the back of the boat. She surfaced right next to the cap, placed it on her head and returned to the boat, a successful rescue completed, to rounds of applause and smiles!

A warning to secure all belongings, as turning around would not be an option once we reached the open sea, was delivered to the boat and we began our journey home. It was not as dramatic as our outward journey but none the less exhilarating. We battled into the wind for about 100 meters, at ease now with the familiar rise and crash of the waves, before turning sharply, driving them to our stern. A straw sun hat flew overboard. We all looked at it for a second, the boat still for the moment, as the engine recovered from the turn. Do we, don't we? The next wave answered the question for us, picking us up and surging us forward. Wave after wave carried us away from the stricken hat, white foam fighting its way onto the decks once more.

In the distance we watched the final dive boat leave the dive site and fight its way through the waves. Unlike us, it cut straight across the waves and was rolling dangerously from side to side. We watched, grateful for the foresight of our captain, as the other boat was thrown this way and that, by the relentless waves and wind.

We reached the safety of the harbour battered and windswept. It had been the best boat ride I had ever had and I had loved every minute of it. Out of the wind, however, I realised that I had possibly caught the sun just a touch more than anticipated. Glowing cheeks were soon being cooled under a very cold shower and an hours sleep was had by all.

Kris, unable to take a recovery sleep due to the fact that he had to work, requested an early night that evening. We joined him at Sailing Club for an hour, while he finished his shift and, having said our good-nights, Lisa, Steve and I, walked along the beach as the days gales dropped to a pleasant evening breeze.

A full moon crested the island, hazy in the evening sky. We stopped for a photo or two before returning to our rooms. A few games of backgammon followed, a few pages of the books were read before the power died!

In darkness and without the aid of a cooling fan we retired to our beds. It was 9pm!!!

Brunei and Diving

It has been nearly four years since Lisa, Kris and myself have been in the same country, let alone in the same town. Lisa and Steve arrived in Nha Trang at 7.30pm Friday evening, after their prolonged overnight stay in Brunei!

What had originally been planned as a flying visit, had turned into a three day exploration of the country, after their connecting flight was cancelled at very short notice. The airline company had kindly picked up the bill for all their food and accommodation while they were stuck in the State and this had allowed them to spend some of their hard saved money, on an exceeding good Jungle Safari Trip into the Rain Forest.



There they had walked high into the canopy, gazing down at the tree tops from their narrow swinging walkways.



They had climbed waterfalls and trekked along lush jungle tracks.

Had their feet cleaned in pools by cleaner fish.



They had spotted pygmy squirrels scurrying along in the trees and had had fleeting glimpses of exotic butterfly's as they spiralled down from the busy heights.


They had visited the Sultans majestic mosque. A stunning gift to his people. The Sultan himself worships there, without the need of any guards, loved by all his people. His Palace is the biggest in the world, with rooms of solid gold, domes of gold, furnishings and art from far and wide.

The Sultan has invested not only money into his people, but also love and respect. Schooling is free, medicine is free, their needs are his needs, he is their Father.



Their eventual departure from Brunei, followed by the 7 hour train ride from Saigon to Nha Trang, took its toil and two slightly jaded travellers were collected from the train station by Kris. Bags were once again deposited in the Blue House, before food was sought for the tired travellers. This was followed by drinks at the far end of town, but by midnight they, and myself, were ready for bed.

Both Kris and Steph had the next day off work and so it was decided to rent another motor-bike and head down to Long Beach for the day. Although both children, and I, hold Full motor-bike licences, it has been more than a few years since Lisa has ridden, let alone on the wrong side of the road, in a foreign country, with a pillion, and never on a moped!!

To say she did well is an understatement. Kris shot off into the distance with Steve on the back, Sean, a fellow instructor, also with the day off, followed. I followed behind with Lisa and Steph, as Steph called directions into Lisa's ear. At junctions cars and bikes flew across in all directions, at the market place people walked straight out into the road in front of her, bikes flowing in the opposite direction all around us. We stopped near the boys and purchased our supplies for the day.

Fresh pealed pineapple, apple-pears, tangerines, lychees, dragon fruit were packed into our bags while encouraging stall keepers filled our mouths with samples.

Petrol was purchased in pop bottles from the side of the road and we were off.

The drive to Long beach takes about 45minutes. The road, once out of the bustling chaos of town, winds itself along the mountain side around the coast. The duel carriageway status meaning nothing to those who live on the wrong side, needing to travel in the opposite direction. They simple pull onto the road and drive at you, head on, in many cases. But no-one minds, no-one gets annoyed, everyone smiles, at the very worse they shake their head and then smile!

We reached the beach without too many mishaps, parked the biles up and headed for the shade. Within moments we were accosted by a beach lady trying to sell her wares. Quail eggs, sour mango with chilli sauce or Rice cakes. “When I sell all eggs, I go home” she pleaded. No one wanted eggs! She tried and tried, each time her offers being declined. “If I come back and you have eggs from other lady, I be very angry!” she tried, “I cuss you and shout!”


We agreed that she should do this, as we were not planing to buy anything today, save our drinks. She shook my hand in agreement. We all smiled, I took her photo, and she began to leave. Steph turned to Kris “Maybe just one eggs?”. Kris called her back, she turned, a huge grin on her face. I bought some rice cakes and a very happy lady left our company to sell her one remaining portion of eggs.



The day was spent relaxing, we swam in the warm water, we played poker-dice in the shade. Steph was taught to play bridge, and other card games were remembered and played. By mid afternoon however the sky began to darken. Distant thunderclaps could be heard far inland, spots of rain threatened to fall. The bags were packed just as the first drops fell. The roads were wet and I felt nervous, just how slippery was “Be careful, the roads are slippery!”??

Kris soon disappeared into the distance, Lisa seeing my reluctance to race along the wet road overtook me and set a steady pace. Tiny raindrops bit into all exposed flesh as we speed along the carriageway, working our way home, travelling in and out of the edge of the storm. Acupuncture, is the best way to describe the feeling one gets as a tiny rain drop hits you at 50km per hour. Acupuncture, on a huge scale!

On the outskirts of town, still on the duel carriageway, a bike up ahead decided to turn around. Right in front of Lisa! She swerved, missing it by inches, I followed, unable to stop, as the actual brakes don't work very well on Steph's bike! Welcome to Vietnam!

Following soothing showers, we called into see Simon at Octopus Diving to arrange the following few days of Water Recreation. Dives were arranged, courses were booked and with a “See you in the morning” we left to find food. We ate in Something Fishy, the owner Bob cooking up some wonderful vegetables for Lisa and I. We had ordered two portions but as the first one approached our table, we realised our mistake! The bowl was huge! We struggled to eat one, delicious as it was and asked for the second bowl to be packed as a takeaway. We could eat it on the boat to save Simon having to provide Vegetarian food for Lisa and I.

The food was packed and Lisa and I headed back to the room to drop off the food and to pick up the rented bike ready for its return at 10pm. As we approached the large spiked gates of the hotel, we were surprised to find them closed. Not only closed but padlocked, from the OUTSIDE! We called, we knocked, we sat down on the bench outside.

Three Vietnamese guys arrived, they called, they knocked, they sat beside us! My French neighbour, from Coco Divers, returned from work, he too joined us in our wait. By 8pm Peter, from Octopus Diving, had also finished work and it was clear that no one was going to be going into the hotel for a while. We walked to Kris's, dropped the food and walked back into town.

Just before the motorbike rental deadline, Lisa and Kris returned to Blue House to find it open as normal. The guy had apparently returned at 9pm, unlocked the place without a suggestion of explanation and gone to his room! The bike was returned, a few more drinks were consumed and with the threat of an early start, we all retired to bed before midnight!


Today has been fantastic. The weather has been overcast but warm, the dive boat had only six customers, three of them being us! Kris, unfortunately, was required to cover a Rescue Course for the day, so it was up to Nick to take us down and show us around.


Nick is a fellow traveller. He had dived with Kris, and others from Octopus, a few times and had been asked by Simon if he wanted to do a few shifts, whenever they were too busy. Free diving in exchange for guiding qualified divers around the various sites. As a qualified Dive Master himself, Nick had jumped at the chance and had now been in Nha Trang for a quite a bit longer than first intended.


We chatted on the way out to the first Dive Site, I was the only one wearing a wetsuit, the rest were diving in rash-vests and shorts! I am sure I have mentioned this before but I DO NOT DO COLD! And even 30 degree water begins to feel cold after an hour! We kitted up and jumped in. the dive was wonderful, Nick set a nice slow pace, allowing Lisa to take photos and me to simply look, without being left behind.



A Black Lion fish displayed his fins at us, a yellow box fish played hide and seek, a cuttle fish hung silent in the lee of a rock. An hour later it was all over and I was glad I had worn the wetsuit!

The second dive was a swim along the reef to Moray Beach. We were dropped into the water and with the checks done, sank below the surface into the clear depths as the boat continued to the mooring spot. Again Nick set a relaxing pace, swimming gentle against the current we stopped to look into holes and crevices. I spotted another box fish and taped Lisa to take a photo.


By the time I turned around, I had lost him! I shrugged at Lisa, she turned away, I spotted him again and tapped her, again when I looked back, he was gone but from the corner of my eye I saw his hide away. Lisa took her photos. We looked around. The boys were no where to be seen! Lisa signalled the direction we had been heading before I had called her back and we set off. Within seconds we spotted the boys heading back for us and joined up again. Air was checked, all was good and we continued on our way.

Tiny fish, big Trigger fish, blue, yellow and green fish darted this way and that. Coral formations reaching high above us teamed with life as we passed. We reached the Cleaner Wrasse Rock where Kris had brought me too before. While Nick showed Steve, Lisa told me to take my mask and regulator off for a photos. I did smiling at the camera before realising I had forgotten how to put them all back on under water! I put the reg back in my mouth but water threatened to go up my nose. I has a split second of panic before waving at Lisa to stay with me as I worked it out. I replaced my mask, took a slow deep breath and cleared the mask. Simple once you remembered how!

We turned our attention to the Cleaner Wrasse who were busily cleaning Steve's ears. They moved onto Lisa, picking at the skin beside her head. I removed my regulator as they approached me, allowing them access to my mouth! Nick clicked away with the camera. Too soon again the dive was over and we returned to the surface. A lost camera was being retrieved as we surfaced, we were to last ones back but what a dive!

This evening we sorted out a rough plan for the rest of the week with Simon. Lisa starts her Rescue Course in the morning, Steve is going on another fun dive with Nick, I am having a chill day. Tuesday Steve and I are going snorkelling, while Lisa continues her course on the boat, possibly the same plan for Wednesday, before two fun dives with Kris on Thursday and Friday! The week is sorted!!

Lisa and I have decided on an early tonight, due to the fact that she has half a book to read for homework, before she starts tomorrow, and also because I want to up load this chapter while the internet is quiet. It has been quite fickle for the past 24 hours much to my annoyance!

Tomorrow, however is another day, another good day in Nha Trang.

Vietnam

The days pass in Vietnam and a sort of routine begins. The sun is bright in the sky by 6am, so an early morning rise feels natural. The day begins with a slow yoga routine to stretch out my stiffened, ageing body, after three days I can now nearly touch my toes without my back protesting! This is followed by my prayers to Krsna, my room smells divine with all the incense burning, before a slow pleasant stroll around the block to boost the circulation. A quick check on the internet for any morning mail, a piece or two of fruit and the day is ready to begin.

Day one was a recovery day, a day spent lounging and sleeping in the bed or sitting peacefully on the balcony of Blue House.


Day two was a snorkelling and tan topping day in water of 30 degrees. Lunch was had on the dive boat with Kris and Steph, the evening was spent at Guava's, eating, drinking, chatting, playing pool and enjoying the Tuesday Night Quiz..

Day three was a day of thunder storms. I had planned a morning visit to the train station to check the train times, but half way there the thunderstorm, that I though had finished, returned! I took shelter under a shop awning, the concerned owner providing me with a chair and a sympathetic smile. I sat for a good twenty minutes watching the world go by, covered best they could, in brightly coloured and very wet ponchos. Large sprays of water were thrown up by the small motor bikes as the road slowly, but defiantly, flooded in the continuous, torrential onslaught. Lightening flashed over head, God poured out another huge bucket of water, the shopkeeper patted my shoulder and smiled.

When the drops eased for a moment, I enthusiastically thanked my shop saviour, made a retreat to my room and rechecked the internet before having a snooze!

Train Station visit Mark-2, followed at lunch time. This time the mission was accomplished without precipitation and I disappeared into the back streets in search of more breakfast fruits. Nha Trang is built on a huge grid so getting lost is not as easy as it is in other cities. The small back alleys eventually come out onto roads, all the roads eventually intercept each other, well that is the theory and yesterday it worked. I returned home fully laden and wishing I had taken the camera.

That afternoon the internet went off, a blip of the storm? Yet I was content to sit and write, and read, and listen to the familiar patter of rain on the roof-tops. I left Wales to get away from the rain! At least out here the rain is warm. Out on the balcony it is dry, a refreshing breeze cooled the air and with that much water falling, the mosquitoes were nowhere to be seen!

Today I strolled to the beach for my morning walk, did a little extra yoga and swam in warm water. I returned and rested from this huge exertion, showered and this time, armed with the camera, tried to retrace my steps from yesterday.

I got lost at the first junction! Had I gone left, or across?

I went left and soon ended up in unfamiliar territory.

Tiny shops lined the streets. Tiny shops that were full of many things.



Tiny shops full of big things. Tiny shops that really shouldn't be able to do what they did!



Those who had no shops, sat out on the street, under trees, under awnings, under umbrellas.






All smiled as I passed.
All continued with their day uninterrupted.

At a junction I spotted the market, a place I had failed to find yesterday.


I entered the covered enclosure, noting the large rat that ran past my leg and under the table in front of me. The fish counters were empty and for that I was grateful. The smell in the enclosed space was strong, not totally unpleasant, but defiantly strong.

I walked towards the huts displaying their bowls of rice on the outskirts.

Tiny stalls, complete with a tiny attendant, surrounded by big bowls.

People stopped to look at me as I looked at them. They nodded when I asked if I could take their photos, broad smiles appearing when I thanked them in Vietnamese!

The sun grew incredibly hot as the morning progressed, driving me into any shade I could find as I walked. I returned, happy, to the coolness of my balcony and got the laptop out.



This is now my life, no rush, no hassle, healthy food, happy people and warm, warm air. Life is good.

Twelve Hours of Guilt

Twelve hours of guilt followed me onto the plane yesterday. Twelve hours of wondering why I was doing this. Why was I leaving a life most people strive for. A house, a good job, beautiful countryside, a family and a man who adores me. Twelve hours is a long time to sit alone on a plane, with only ones thoughts for company. The films flickered in front of me, my mind only half watching.

Peter and I had spent my last night in the UK in the Sheraton. It was the same place we had stayed when we had filmed the Holiday Showdown Series. A cube of rooms that faced either outward from the long perimeter corridor, towards the world, or faced in, overlooking the pool and trees enclosed in the huge centre covered courtyard. The room was large, the bed enormous, the bathroom luxurious. Flat screen TV, a safe, a filled fridge, hair dryer, iron and ironing board, as well as the usual comforts, lay strategically placed around the room. Films were available for a price, food was available for a price, anything and everything was available, for a price, and so we had a hot, hot bath, wrapped ourselves in large fluffy towels and played backgammon for an hour while consuming the bottle of wine and olives we had brought with us.

We spent the evening trying not to think about the following morning. We dined on pizza in the Sport bar, we drank more wine, we slept.

Neither of us wanted to face a final goodbye and so Peter dropped me at departures and without looking back, more than twice, I went in.

Three days previously, I had discovered that my incredibly well packed suitcase, was in fact too heavy. Having never travelled with check in luggage, the fact that they put a weight restriction on a case had never occurred to me. Peter had picked it up to move it to the corner of the room and said I would be charged for the excess. We went on line to find out how much. With five flights, each charging a set amount, the whole thing totalled about £500! I had to halve my belongings yet again.

This had been done, incredibly slowly and painfully, over the course of the day. My final answer had been to put everything heavy, like jewellery, backgammon, books, laptop etc into the small back pack I was borrowing from Jec. The suitcase now weighed 22kg, the back bag 9kg, my handbag weighed 1kg. My life weighed 32kg and the suitcase weighed 5kg of that!!!

I approached check in. Would my case make it? As I stood patiently in the queue, I glanced up at the notices hanging from the ceiling. No knives, No gas, No explosives or guns, Hand luggage must only weigh 7kg! 7KG!!! How strict was this 7kg? My life had already been stripped and I had halved that yet again. 2Kg!, they would let me take 2Kg.... wouldn't they?

I looked around at the queue. Large people stood with even larger cases. They weighed more than mine didn't they? The people defiantly weighted more than me! They were carrying at least 8stone more than me onto that plane in blubber! I needed my things, no I wanted my things. If the truth be told, I could have walked onto that plane with hand luggage only, but I wanted my bits, my familiars. The queue got shorter.

The case was accepted without question, the back pack was stopped. Too heavy! “But my laptop is in there”, I tried. “OK, take the laptop out and you should be OK”. I breathed a sigh of relief and shouldered the 9kg pack onto my back.

The laptop went in, the laptop came out. At each check my heart pounded. At each check I was waved through. Final call for check in and I hurried to the gate.

“Passport, Check in slip, can I see your back pack please! Too heavy!!” My heart stopped. Tears threatened to over whelm, “My laptop is in there”, I tried.

“Take it out then, this bag is too heavy, it could kill someone if it falls!” I crouch to one side aware of the eyes on me. The laptop is pulled out and put in another bag, I remove the backgammon board for good measure and two books. I turn to the eyes, “Is this OK?”. She lifts it but does not smile. “Only one hand luggage” she says, “you now have Three!”

The tears are threatening, my stomach feels sick. Through darkening blindness I say “I can put the handbag in the big bag???”. She walks away. I put the bags together, pick up the two in one hand, to try to prove their lightness and clasping my hat in front of then, walk through to the lounge.

I am miserable! What should have been the exciting beginning of a new life is now spoilt. Peter is miserable, the children are sad. My bag is too heavy and I have five more flights to deal with. I want to crawl up and die. I want to call Peter and say forget it, I'm coming back. I want it all to stop.

I stow my bags in the overhead lockers and take my seat. I blindly watch the screen, eat the food, try to sleep. 12 hours is a long time to be alone with your thoughts.


Saigon

For those of you who ever wish to visit this amazing country, a word of advice. Book your taxi INSIDE the airport! I foolishly walked outside and was assaulted by voices, hands and rates. Before I knew it, I was in a vehicle heading for the bus stop and being charged $35 instead of the Airports $15. My driver was sweet though. He not only took me to the bus stop, but carried my bags to the counter, arranged my ticket, that I dutifully handed over the money for, and loaded me onto the bus! The fact that I was planning on catching the NIGHT bus never entered the equation and so I found myself in Nha Trang a day earlier than planned!

The guilt, that had followed me onto the plane, lingered in the back of my mind. It nestled into a place not far from consciousness but no longer dominated my thoughts. I called Kris and he came to meet me. Hugs and love flowed and the guilt took another step back.

I slept the night on his settee as it was too late to check into the Blue House. We had ended up in Guavas, reunions now being common place after my last visit a few weeks before. The beer had flowed, the laughter abounded, Kris had described his new plan, Steph had gone to bed early!

And so my new life has started. Kris is working on a plan to get me extra weight allowance as a diver, the heat is intense, I have spent the day doing yoga, reading, writing. What comes next? Who can tell?

Two Weeks Today

I look at the clock, it is still early. I lie embraced in the silence for a while, letting my mind wander freely. Reality dawns, two weeks today I shall be waking up to go to the airport. Two weeks today I shall begin the journey that I have waited and planned for for the past year. Quietly I get up and slip out of Vicky's house heading for the beach.

The sky is overcast as I walk for the final time to the cove. I take my time, as carefully, I make my way over the jagged rocks to the sand. There had been a time when I would have raced over them, two children in tow, loaded with bags and picnics, drinks and towels, body boards, buckets and spades. Many summers had been spend down here hiding amongst the crevices, hidden from the tourists that invaded our shores and swarmed our main beaches. Our cave is nearly full of stones, a bare foot of head room remains at the back. How the moving tides change things over time. So many things change over time.

Feeling slightly confused and perturbed by the dawning realisation of the near completion of my past life, I leave the sea to manipulate the shore of the beach and head into town.

47 years ago I had been born in this seaside town. Born in the second bedroom of no 63 Mary Street. Although I lived my first few years in London and Scotland, I have no real memories except those of growing up in Porthcawl. My bedroom on the top floor. The nursery school at the top of the hill and their compulsory mid-day naps. Walking to big school with my Grand-father. Adventures with Ruth Wilson who lived across the back lane.

I had been to school here, worked here, married, lived and divorced here. My children had spend half their lives here, going to school, playing with friends. They too had grown here. I had taught them to Pier Jump as my mother had taught me, throwing themselves off the pier wall in true Porthcawl style.


I stood looking at the pier, the harbour, the light house.

Two weeks today I will be driving to the airport. Two weeks today I leave.

To be honest I left Porthcawl ten years ago following my divorce. The past few years in the heart of Wales have been busy to the point of manic obsession as I created a home for the children and myself, held down four jobs as they worked their way through University and School, bought land and workshops with Mark and travelled my way through various continents on our yearly sabbaticals.

Now it is my time. The children are settled in their own ways, Tramp, my beloved Lurcher passed away last November. Mark and I are following different paths and the opportunity of a life time has been presented to me.

Life on an Island in the South Pacific.

Over the past year I have put things in place to enable this huge change to happen.



The house is now in my sole name, the Workshop is now Marks.



The land where we played and camped has been sold, my belongings have been given away.



One smallish suitcase is all that remains of my life history, that and a guitar that I will one day learn to play!



I walk for the final time along John Street, looking at the unfamiliar shops. So much had changed already. It is time to move on.