Tuesday, September 25, 2007
happy equinox!
from the goddamn office.
so while everyone was home with their warm families - and some servicing people off to a client's buka puasa dinner, doubleuteeeff - me, wh, hy and karen hit our local tandoori joint. alfresco, no less.
this is the first i've blogged from the office.
earlier, in the midst of the manic 5pm rush, i was suddenly transported back to caffeine. Caffeine, is the name of my favourite half-basement cafe. it is plastered with posters and flyers of gigs and plays, with stacks of postcards and those quintessential coupons for the cheapskate student in all of us. near the entrance are staggered platforms for seating as u see fit, and the requisite high and narrow bar counter below the impressionist painting of tony the proprietor. beyond the bar to the right are dim little enclaves with low sink-worthy armchairs and antiquated lamps. to the left are the more proper tables and chairs, against a stretch of brothel-red sofa.
stepping in effectively splits u from the buzz outside: the footfalls of sneaker, boot, heel and flipflop, the trams' rumble and chime and hydraulic puff of its doors, after which follows the staccato rattle of the traffic light. 3 downward steps into this dark bohemian den, and swanston street is a world away. the sun reflects off the unfinished cement floor, and u can squint through the chiaroscuro and watch, remote and detached, at life and reality passing by in the bright theatre of the doorway.
escapism. is a sign my brain has shut down and refuses to think.
i was suddenly back in the present, aware again of my stagnant hands on the keyboard, black text on white, and a silent blinking cursor.
so while everyone was home with their warm families - and some servicing people off to a client's buka puasa dinner, doubleuteeeff - me, wh, hy and karen hit our local tandoori joint. alfresco, no less.
this is the first i've blogged from the office.
earlier, in the midst of the manic 5pm rush, i was suddenly transported back to caffeine. Caffeine, is the name of my favourite half-basement cafe. it is plastered with posters and flyers of gigs and plays, with stacks of postcards and those quintessential coupons for the cheapskate student in all of us. near the entrance are staggered platforms for seating as u see fit, and the requisite high and narrow bar counter below the impressionist painting of tony the proprietor. beyond the bar to the right are dim little enclaves with low sink-worthy armchairs and antiquated lamps. to the left are the more proper tables and chairs, against a stretch of brothel-red sofa.
stepping in effectively splits u from the buzz outside: the footfalls of sneaker, boot, heel and flipflop, the trams' rumble and chime and hydraulic puff of its doors, after which follows the staccato rattle of the traffic light. 3 downward steps into this dark bohemian den, and swanston street is a world away. the sun reflects off the unfinished cement floor, and u can squint through the chiaroscuro and watch, remote and detached, at life and reality passing by in the bright theatre of the doorway.
escapism. is a sign my brain has shut down and refuses to think.
i was suddenly back in the present, aware again of my stagnant hands on the keyboard, black text on white, and a silent blinking cursor.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
the hunt for the mandarinfish
(what a nice fantasy title.)
a little introduction. seaventures is an ex-oil rig, with 4 floors of very utilitarian bunks, steep steel staircases and a sun-deck that used to be a helipad. its machinery and drill bits have been removed so it's essentially a platform in the sea... with loads of trash on its bed. there's shelter but not much in the way of walls, so while u're cleaning gear and showering off the salt, u're exposed in every each direction to the constant, fucking cold ocean wind. seaventures sits 5 minutes away from the island of mabul.
mabul is a trove of minute, hidden life. the small fish necessitates patient waiting, watching and if necessary, poking. given my initial impatience for bigger fish... i wasn't that interested, just skimming by, looking but not seeing. that changed with the black-pitted snake eel. a group of us had gathered round something interesting, and having to avoid sudden erratic kicking that results in annoying sandclouds, i was going for a neat sharp rock as an 'anchor' when i realized that thaaaat was what they were looking at - i'd very nearly planted 2 fingers right on its snout. this little shock gave me a sudden appreciation for the unseen and the overlooked, and each subsequent mabul dive would be more rewarding that the last.
like the mandarinfish mission. mandarinfish are tiny, intensely colourful, evasive and also airheadedly romantic enough to appear only at sunset. a meticulous, micro hunt on a sunset dive. 30+ minutes of trawling corals and poking little rock caves yielded only brief glimpses and a couple of blurred photos. still, very much worth it. a detour to mabul's fishing village after that led to my first napoleon wrasse, which we um... had for dinner.
the small fish can be really really interesting, as i saw again in a symbiosis of 3 organisms: a featherstar, a crinoid shrimp hidden in its fuzz, and a featherstar clingfish, a nudibranchy slug that lives under it. how freakin cool?! going slow pays: i caught a cuttlefish camouflaging itself, changing colours and texture... in real-time. and there was the very cute solo performance of a juvenile sweetlips, doing the twist and tango and the funky chicken too, all alone. while unrecognizable from adult sweetlips, we all remember it as one crazy dancer. no kidding, youtube-grade stuff.
night dives everyday, seaventures' house reef. again, all about keeping your eyes peeled. visibility is limited to your torch beam, so u gotta focus hard enough while still sweeping it around. like when we saw a frogfish, an ugly shapeless mass... after the novelty i turned slightly and was suddenly face to face with a huge-ass crocodilefish. crocfish are the exact opposite, having a real distinct shape. both were new sights. the house reef is largely artificial, made of sunken boats/crates/structures, although there's no telling which are the "reefs" and which are trash. u can unearth real gems here, the not too small and not too big: sweetlips, groupers, hidden morays, camouflaged scorpionfish and flying gurnards (also distinctly-shaped... like batman). and on our last night was a Rare occasion: a party of 7 lionfish. poisonous, beautiful, in eerie twilight. Seven.
sipadan is a whole different playground. the land drops abruptly to a couple thousand feet, so that from the boat u see a marked difference in the water, a clear line between shallow cerulean and deep lapis. diving here is simply following/circling the "wall" of coral reef - and it's one awesome wall. a mountainous tapestry of life. there're flowery and spiky corals, with gently billowing ferns, fingers and fronds. there're mashups of stippled rocks with ivory flowers that simply vanish when u come near, retracting into its pores so fast u wonder if u'd imagined it. and teeming under, over and between, are the millions of fishy locals: from goggle-eyed to pucker-lipped, fat to flat, from mottled vermilion to black/white polka to electric blue and yellow fins... too many to remember and research. that's the coral wall: always a fantasy of colour, on one side.
but take a break and look the other side... and u'll see the stark contrast of the desolate wild, an empty and infinite blue. from time to time, turtles appear and cruise by, and lurking deeper below will be the sinister silhouettes of sharks. that's the beauty of this place, u get a balance of the small and the pelagic. and the turtles of course... sitting in corals, chilling in a cave, swimming out there so close yet so far. we've had lucky stretches of lepaking with a few, and i've managed Twice to swim head-to-head-straight at a turtle, both veering away at the last minute. every sighting gives me a tangible calm and a feeling of peace and love for the world. turtlesturtlesturtles... are magical, i tell u.
kapalai - was where we finally relented to go on the last morning. just 1 dive there, but it was a visual feast. right off the boat, we were swarmed by trevally and goatfish, and a whole host of other fish i can't name. with both natural corals and artificial reefs it seemed to be a catalogue of all the things i've seen, including a moray again in hiding, 2 massive groupers, nudibranchia, some seahorse relatives, a pair of lionfish, crocodilefish, scorpionfish... i start wondering who came up with these ciplak names, referenced to land animals. "-fish" being a generic suffix (generic being a very vulgar word), i suppose they're easier on the layman's memory. and while these practical, enlightening field trips are integral to the diving experience, the true joy is in those rare and few mindfuck moments.
...as i realized in the last sipadan dive. to me, the core pleasure of being underwater is the zero-g freedom, and the core thrill of sipadan is that it's virtually bottomless. at 20m, i saw my friend ahead dip recklessly down and caution be damned, i followed suit. at the extreme of 25m... my mind blanked out all danger as my life changed forever. another wall, a sweeping, pulsing, predatory wall: a barracuda pack in the beginnings of formation tornado. like keen blades in uniform black stripes, like a fusillade of lethal arrows. the dude was snapping away, while i could only watch and watch and watch. his photos are very good, but photos are Never like the real thing. the tornado never happened. the divemaster was furiously sounding her call. we went back up like sheepish schoolboys.
but those. few. minutes.
totally.
made my whole trip.
a little introduction. seaventures is an ex-oil rig, with 4 floors of very utilitarian bunks, steep steel staircases and a sun-deck that used to be a helipad. its machinery and drill bits have been removed so it's essentially a platform in the sea... with loads of trash on its bed. there's shelter but not much in the way of walls, so while u're cleaning gear and showering off the salt, u're exposed in every each direction to the constant, fucking cold ocean wind. seaventures sits 5 minutes away from the island of mabul.
mabul is a trove of minute, hidden life. the small fish necessitates patient waiting, watching and if necessary, poking. given my initial impatience for bigger fish... i wasn't that interested, just skimming by, looking but not seeing. that changed with the black-pitted snake eel. a group of us had gathered round something interesting, and having to avoid sudden erratic kicking that results in annoying sandclouds, i was going for a neat sharp rock as an 'anchor' when i realized that thaaaat was what they were looking at - i'd very nearly planted 2 fingers right on its snout. this little shock gave me a sudden appreciation for the unseen and the overlooked, and each subsequent mabul dive would be more rewarding that the last.
like the mandarinfish mission. mandarinfish are tiny, intensely colourful, evasive and also airheadedly romantic enough to appear only at sunset. a meticulous, micro hunt on a sunset dive. 30+ minutes of trawling corals and poking little rock caves yielded only brief glimpses and a couple of blurred photos. still, very much worth it. a detour to mabul's fishing village after that led to my first napoleon wrasse, which we um... had for dinner.
the small fish can be really really interesting, as i saw again in a symbiosis of 3 organisms: a featherstar, a crinoid shrimp hidden in its fuzz, and a featherstar clingfish, a nudibranchy slug that lives under it. how freakin cool?! going slow pays: i caught a cuttlefish camouflaging itself, changing colours and texture... in real-time. and there was the very cute solo performance of a juvenile sweetlips, doing the twist and tango and the funky chicken too, all alone. while unrecognizable from adult sweetlips, we all remember it as one crazy dancer. no kidding, youtube-grade stuff.
night dives everyday, seaventures' house reef. again, all about keeping your eyes peeled. visibility is limited to your torch beam, so u gotta focus hard enough while still sweeping it around. like when we saw a frogfish, an ugly shapeless mass... after the novelty i turned slightly and was suddenly face to face with a huge-ass crocodilefish. crocfish are the exact opposite, having a real distinct shape. both were new sights. the house reef is largely artificial, made of sunken boats/crates/structures, although there's no telling which are the "reefs" and which are trash. u can unearth real gems here, the not too small and not too big: sweetlips, groupers, hidden morays, camouflaged scorpionfish and flying gurnards (also distinctly-shaped... like batman). and on our last night was a Rare occasion: a party of 7 lionfish. poisonous, beautiful, in eerie twilight. Seven.
sipadan is a whole different playground. the land drops abruptly to a couple thousand feet, so that from the boat u see a marked difference in the water, a clear line between shallow cerulean and deep lapis. diving here is simply following/circling the "wall" of coral reef - and it's one awesome wall. a mountainous tapestry of life. there're flowery and spiky corals, with gently billowing ferns, fingers and fronds. there're mashups of stippled rocks with ivory flowers that simply vanish when u come near, retracting into its pores so fast u wonder if u'd imagined it. and teeming under, over and between, are the millions of fishy locals: from goggle-eyed to pucker-lipped, fat to flat, from mottled vermilion to black/white polka to electric blue and yellow fins... too many to remember and research. that's the coral wall: always a fantasy of colour, on one side.
but take a break and look the other side... and u'll see the stark contrast of the desolate wild, an empty and infinite blue. from time to time, turtles appear and cruise by, and lurking deeper below will be the sinister silhouettes of sharks. that's the beauty of this place, u get a balance of the small and the pelagic. and the turtles of course... sitting in corals, chilling in a cave, swimming out there so close yet so far. we've had lucky stretches of lepaking with a few, and i've managed Twice to swim head-to-head-straight at a turtle, both veering away at the last minute. every sighting gives me a tangible calm and a feeling of peace and love for the world. turtlesturtlesturtles... are magical, i tell u.
kapalai - was where we finally relented to go on the last morning. just 1 dive there, but it was a visual feast. right off the boat, we were swarmed by trevally and goatfish, and a whole host of other fish i can't name. with both natural corals and artificial reefs it seemed to be a catalogue of all the things i've seen, including a moray again in hiding, 2 massive groupers, nudibranchia, some seahorse relatives, a pair of lionfish, crocodilefish, scorpionfish... i start wondering who came up with these ciplak names, referenced to land animals. "-fish" being a generic suffix (generic being a very vulgar word), i suppose they're easier on the layman's memory. and while these practical, enlightening field trips are integral to the diving experience, the true joy is in those rare and few mindfuck moments.
...as i realized in the last sipadan dive. to me, the core pleasure of being underwater is the zero-g freedom, and the core thrill of sipadan is that it's virtually bottomless. at 20m, i saw my friend ahead dip recklessly down and caution be damned, i followed suit. at the extreme of 25m... my mind blanked out all danger as my life changed forever. another wall, a sweeping, pulsing, predatory wall: a barracuda pack in the beginnings of formation tornado. like keen blades in uniform black stripes, like a fusillade of lethal arrows. the dude was snapping away, while i could only watch and watch and watch. his photos are very good, but photos are Never like the real thing. the tornado never happened. the divemaster was furiously sounding her call. we went back up like sheepish schoolboys.
but those. few. minutes.
totally.
made my whole trip.
