Tying the Knot- No NOT my Knot!

We awoke on the morning of the wedding not just to the sound of the waves lapping the shore and the breeze in the palm trees overhead. We awoke to the sound of rain. I was worried for Roz and Travis what the rain would do to the carefully planned out wedding festivities planned for the afternoon. But it was early and the weather was relatively fickle out in the middle of the Belize Barrier Reef. So initially, I didn’t worry too much. Plus at that moment, I didn’t know the rain meant so much to the Enfield clan. I wouldn’t know that till much later that afternoon. 

The day stretched out before us, with the wedding at 4 in the afternoon and after a slow breakfast and some rain watching from the porch, I realized I had to clarify that indeed I had not gotten married on this trip to Belize due to a mispost on Facebook. 

David and I at the wedding - nope - not our wedding - Roz and Travis's!!

So with so much time in front of us,  David and I decided to try our hands at stand up paddle boarding, while others kayaked, snorkeled and sailed around our little oasis in the ocean. 

It became clear quickly that David and SUP were a no go and after the fourth time trying to stand up, David abandoned ship and went to the dock to find a kayak which was closer to the water and less likely to tip him into the water below us. Maybe it wouldn’t have been as nerve wracking if we hadn’t seen the result of Regan’s venture from the SUP into the coral reef early in the weekend, but regardless, we made it work with me working against the wind and current to make any progress around the island and David literally rowing circles around me. 

Ross was thrilled to see us out and being adventurous and jumped up and down on the shore to see if we wanted to join them afterwards for lunch before the wedding. The clouds were threatening, the wind high and we were hungry so shortly after I crashed into the dock and pitched myself into the water, David paddled the rest of the way around the island and we met in the bar area for lunch.  

The festivities were set to start at 4 and it was only 2 after lunch so we decided to engage in a friendly game of scrabble. To be honest, not sure why we bother since Roxanne always wins, but we played until we saw Travis and his groomsmen getting photographed on the beach in front of our bungalow and then decided to gussy ourselves up to join them. 

Everyone is so fancy!!

The wedding was like something out of a story book set at the end of the dock overlooking the horizon, now clear from the morning’s rain. 

The sun was low in the sky and the bridesmaids and the bride managed to make it all the way through the ceremony without getting their heel stuck in the dock – which most definitively would have ended with someone swimming in their formal attire and a few people diving in after them to save them. 

While I have never been called to tie the knot myself, watching Roz walk down the dock with her dad filled everyone on the pier with a sense of love and hopefulness.

 Their vows left no one there with a dry eye and I could imagine that Travis’s Dad – where ever he was – was looking down and smiling. Later during Regan’s toast to the couple we learned that during her wedding early this year, it had also rained and that she was sure that it was her father who had recently passed, giving she and Paul their blessing, just as he had that morning on Roz and Travis’ special day. 

I have never been to a true destination wedding – the closest would have been my brother and Roxanne in Tahoe three years ago. This was a magical destination – complete with a blessing of rain, diving Pelicans, tropical breezes and a sunset that took our collective breath away, leaving the 24 of us feeling like a family after just five short days together on our own little oasis out at sea. 

The day after the wedding greeted us with the worst rain we had seen to date on the island. It matched our slow moving moods after a night of dancing and celebrating. But we hoped that it would clear up in the afternoon for the snorkeling trip and island bonfire. 

All day long, it would pour and then clear. Pour down rain and then clear up. Just to show us who was boss. It rained so much that I thought about bailing on the boat trip even if they did go. Later I heard I wasn’t the only one. But boy am I glad I weathered the proverbial storm. There is no way that I would have known that I was about to skip swimming with giant marine life.

Now by now, you know that the water – the ocean water to be precise – scares me a little. I am convinced that something will sting, attack, bite or eat me. But I also love swimming. It’s a real conundrum. So when I heard that we were headed to swim with the big marine life – I wondered what that meant. Big turtles – sure I could do that? What else was big? I was about to find out. 

We climbed aboard the boat and sped off to the middle of the Belize Barrier Reef. One of the biggest and most diverse reefs in the world. And after about 15 minutes, the anchor was thrown down and we prepared to listen to Andy who would snorkel with us and give us a chat. 

“Look! Sharks!” 

We all scooted over to the side of the boat and sure enough there they were. Not just one, but a school of sharks.

“Oh hell no. I am not going in there.” 

“There not dangerous. They won’t attach humans.” Andy (or maybe Sean) assured us. 

“Do they know that?” A nervous laugh spread across the group. 

“Here you will see nurse sharks, gigantic sting rays and big sea turtles. I’ll be in the water with you so there’s nothing to worry about. If a turtle approaches you, swim backwards. If he doesn’t stop, just put the heel of your hand on his head and push him back.” 

HMMMM. Why would the turtle want to get close. Andy laughed and told us not to worry but to stick together. I was worried. Roxanne decided to watch everyone else go in first before she made a decision. David mentioned for the tenth time that day that he had never snorkeled before and around us swam the sharks and a giant blue sting ray. 

Off the back of the boat went the first of us. I can't for certain tell you who it was, but the sharks swam and they swam and it seemed like it was all ok. 

I sent a quick prayer out into the universe, donned my mask and flippers and followed the herd of people plunging into the ocean. And then there they were – the men in grey suits. 

About 6-8 feet long with the tell tale dorsal fins swimming right beside us. Andy grabbed one as it went by. He splashed around as some of the group came up to pet him. He definitely didn’t like that. I decided to keep my distance – one because I am not a big fan of petting animals, but two just in case the nurse shark didn’t know that he wasn’t supposed to bite me. 

Then the sting rays – large diamond shaped blue and gray slinking along the bottom of the ocean floor kicking up a trail of dusty sand in his wake, oblivious of the other marine life around him. A school of fish with pointy sword like noses swam around me and then there was the turtle.

 A gigantic sea turtle swimming with fish that seemed to attach themselves to his sides and bottom. The turtle came up and seemed to take a breath of air and then back underneath the water. Andy caught him as well and some of the  group got closer to pet him as well. I kept my distance and sent out a silent “I'm sorry” on behalf of the rest of us for bothering day. Ross came up behind him and touched him on the back before Rasta could tell him – never ever from behind, lest he think it a predator and attack in defense. 

The rain had retreated, the big marine life was all around and we floated and swam until it was time to go to our little tiny private island for happy hour, ceviche and our evening sing along and bonfire.

If the town of Placencia had been quaint and laid back and Hatchet Caye had been picturesque, then this place was a darn post card come to life. The whole island was about 30 feet long and ten feet wide. 

We docked on the sand and waded through the water ashore and unloaded the driftwood and coolers. The sun sunk low in the sky, large hermit crabs wandered the shore as we ate and drank and did tricks on the sand in the fading light. 

As the sun left us, the fire was lit and Ross began to play the bucket since there was no guitar and not drums. Soon Andy took the bucket and my brother played the cooler while we stood around singing terribly, thankful for the postcard place and one another. 

Finding Nemo and Hoping He Doesn't Bite

About five years ago while swimming in Miami beach with my younger brother I was attacked by a man-o-war. Or more accurately I didn’t notice its 6 foot long gelatinous, purple tentacles waving at me  like  poisonous flags warning me to avoid the area as we raced from one life guard stand to the next. One minute I was swimming, one of my favorite pastimes in the world and the next, I was wrapped up in a toxic web which shot me full of venom as I tread water and screamed for help. 

Afterwards, to hear Ross tell the story, he recounts thinking that I must have been being attacked by a shark, so shrill were the sounds coming out of my mouth. To be fair, I can’t tell you that I accurately remember that part. What I do remember is that I knew I had very little time left to get myself safely to shore before I inevitably died from the poison or drowned from the shock of the excruciating  pain of the stings.

 People have asked me what it felt like and the only way I can describe it is imagine yourself being stung by a bee or a jelly fish. Now multiply that by 1000 bees or jellyfish. It’s a sensation that is hard to describe, but I literally could feel the venom coursing through my blood stream as I kicked and shredded my way back to shore while screaming my head off. 

Ross describes that when I got to shore, a large purple, stringy mass was attached to my body, “Getitoff, GETITOFF! GET IT OFF!” I shrieked over and over and over again, no sense of time or space or people around me as I half stumbled to shore. 

Ross took one look at what was causing my pain and responded, “Oh hell no I am not touching that thing.” And trotted off to get help. Seems selfish I know, but actually we needed help. 

Did you know that the Portuguese man-o-war continues to shoot venom into its prey until it is physically scraped off of the surface to which it has become attached, in this case my left arm and my legs. 

I lay writhing on the shore when Ross came back with a bottle of vinegar.

 A crowd had formed and someone suggested Ross pee on me. “Please no,” I whimpered, “Don’t pee on me.” The world was a blur, but the vinegar was no help and did nothing buy make the stings feel more intense. I grabbed sand and tried rubbing the animal off of my skin, but every time I touched it, it also stung my on my other hand. Ross ran off to get help again and then I don’t remember seeing him for a while. 

Later I was told he ran down the beach to where our group was sitting and arrived like David Hasselhoff in Baywatch, “Jen was stung by a manowar!” He then grabbed my sarong and ran off, leaving his wife, her sisters and my friend Perry to look confusedly at one another thinking, “What the heck is a man-o-war?” 

Meanwhile back at Attack from the Creature of the Black Lagoon central, two EMTs were working on me, one talking to me and taking my vitals while the other literally scraped the purple sea animal off of my body and applied hot and cold backs to my burned skin.

“What’s your name?”

“J-J-Je- Jen_Jennifer.” I stuttered unable to stop my teeth from shattering. 

“Got quite a souvenir from Miami now didn’t ya?” he joked trying to slow my pulse and breathing to avoid transporting me to the hospital.

And what a souvenir it was. I have always loved swimming. In pools, lakes, oceans. You name it, I love to swim in it. And actually, while I am never going to win the olympics, I can hold my own at swimming. I can swim for over an hour without stopping and I like it to boot. 

But now as I enter the ocean, especially warm oceans, where there are clear waters, coral and . . .yep you got it – animals that can sting or bite or kill you, I am reminded of my souvenir from Miami beach. Where technically Man-o-Wars don’t actually live, but since global warming is warming up the seas, they are finding more and more of them these days in parts of the world where they had previously not existed. Lucky me. 

So the last few days in Koh Lipe were been interesting. The water is this incredible turquoise blue, with dark spots where clusters of coral sit on the ocean floor. The waters is calm and water and beckons you from where you sit on the hot, sunny beach. Islands off the coast are so close you could easily swim to them in 20 minutes or so and the water is so shallow that even if you tired, you can touch the bottom for hundreds of feet from shore.

But as I enter the water, I remember the man-o-war and I ask at the bar, “Are there jellyfish or Manowar here?” They shrug their shoulders and I don’t know if they don’t know or they don’t understand. 

Out we go to the island, my new friend Lucrecia and I, swimming and stopping. “It’s like walking on the moon,” she says as we take a break and  put our feet down careful not to step on the coral around us. White, translucent looking fish swim around our feet and seem like they are going to come up and kiss (or bite us), but they swim on. 

We continue swimming and as I pick up my right leg, I jump up and let out a yelp! “Something bit me!” She shakes her head and says that maybe I just brushed against some coral or something ran into my leg by accident. 

As we get closer to the island, there are more patches of coral and it’s so shallow that where there is coral, you can’t swim above it without touching it. We walk around the coral and continue on, both of us a little nervous. Towards the shore, there is more coral than water and we turn around satisfied by the little fish we have seen and pink and white coral that looks like another planet and begin to swim back. Sure enough as we stop again, something grabs on to my leg and I swipe it off, my heart in my throat. We arrive at the shore and I look down at my leg, a stream of blood runs down the back of my calf. “See Lucrecia! Something did bite me.” 

But when I ask at the bar, they only laugh and smile. “Maybe a snake?” they offer seemingly unfazed and douse it with iodine and offer me a beer. 

Later as the sun sinks low in the sky, we see a sting ray move slowly along the ocean floor and I think that for sure there are animals in these seas that are way more dangerous than just some Nemo fish and I am nervous about the snorkeling trip I have booked for the next day. 

I know the trip has to be relatively safe as it is heavily booked on the island, but I can’t help thinking of how many people swim every day, all day long at South Beach in Miami and never even see a Man-o-War let along get tangled up in its arms. 

The snorkeling trip is like being on another planet. Brown coral that looks like cooked cauliflower and green ones that look like brains from a science experiment. Sea urchins that seems to stare up at you from the ocean floor, daring you to put your feet down on their poisonous spikes. 

Green and blue fish dart in and out of waving pink plants and a school of yellow and black fish head toward my face and then Y out as they approach me, seeming to open their mouths as they swim by, “Go back to shore!” they yell, “It’s dangerous out here.” And my heart thuds loudly in my chest as the sea envelopes all the noise around me and it is just me and the coral and the sea plants and the fish. 

A barracuda close to the surface of the water is close enough to reach out and touch its  pointy nose and I pick my head up for a moment, hoping the others from my boat are still close by. 

The first snorkeling spot relaxes me. I survive the 30 minutes without being stung, bitten or mauled and we board the long tailed boat to motor off to the next spot. We continue on and visit a small island filled with black rocks and another snorkeling spot with deep cold water and I begin to relax and feel at home with my new fish friends. We eat on an island with white sands as far as the eye can see, large pieces of drift wood litter the shore. 

The third spot is a white sand beach with warmer, more shallow water and I can feel my heart begin to race as I see some small white fish similar to the ones near my hotel. Maybe that’s what had bit me. Manowar live in warm waters. What if there are snakes? The nagging in my head is loud as I remind myself to look Fear right between the eyes and tell him where to go. But something brushes up against my skin and the sound of my heart in my ears is loud as I force myself to keep swimming. “Be at one with the sea,” I tell myself. But I am relieved when the driver of the boat tells us it is time to go and takes us to the last spot. 

One of the guys on our boat, an American guy named Mitch, uses a stick and a plastic bag to collect sea urchins and eat them!? He is surprised when they tell him to stop – the area is a national park and the fish are protected. “There are literally thousands of them,” he says to me as he pries the spines away from the sea urchin’s body with a stick and pops the inside into his mouth. 

“Yeah, but there are thousands of tourists too.” He nods and shrugs and tosses the remains into the sea where a feeding frenzy commences with blue and green fish edging out there slower black and  yellow ones that compete for the now non venomous lunch he as tossed to them. 

The German couple on the boat tells me I should try diving – that it is other wordly and I imagine myself 30 meters below the sea, oxygen strapped to my back, danger at every corner, under every layer of coral. There is no part of me that wants to try diving no matter how cool it is. 

I close my eyes as the winds whip at my hair, my face a mixture of salt and sand as we head back to shore.

 I am humbled by the sea and grateful that this time, she has been kind to me.