Wow. As of today I have been in Thailand for a week. It simultaneously feels like one month and one day.
I’d finally arrived in Koh Samui for a quick 24 hour rendezvous with two amazing ladies I hadn’t seen in nearly a year. After a quick dip in the ocean which subsequently resulted in me turning everything blue, including my hands, back and neck (ewww), we got all glammed up Thai style (meaning we put on shoes) for dinner and a night on the town. There were fireworks, lady boy cabarets, Jimi Hendrix and hardcore rap. I think it’s safe to say Thailand caters for all tastes. There was even a quick stop off at a strip club, but after seeing the going rate for a Chang I realised I’d just feel dirty and taken advantage of, so we left.
The next morning I woke up hungover like you wouldn’t believe, naked from the waist down, spooning one of my girlfriends. Luckily I know myself well enough to know that sometimes… Pants are just too hard!
After breakfast we said our goodbyes and I jumped on a ferry to Koh Tao, dropping one of the girls off on the way.
When I arrived I felt like I had come home. All the wonderful memories of my time here earlier this year came flooding back along with the added bonus of hugs from a few old friends I made at the time.
The next day was the beginning of my Emergency First Response course. As I’m quite well trained in the field after flying, I took advantage of a few moments of intellectual confidence before the scary stuff started. I met my two Divemaster trainee buddies and we got to bandaging each other up.
The next day we started out rescue course. Pretty much preparing us so that in the event of worst case scenario, we know how to freak out on a less major scale. The course includes navigation, search and recovery, dealing with panicked divers and, my favourite part, learning how to hoist an unconscious diver up a ladder and onto a dive boat without assistance. What we have be led to expect is being punched in the face, having our masks stolen and near drowned. Fun! Just what I hoped for on this day of being epically hungover while on bitch ass, rough seas.
Let me make something clear. Navigation… Not my strong point. The overwhelming sense of joy I felt when I recovered my “lost diver” was insatiable. If I’d had the time for an underwater happy dance, I would of, although I don’t know if it would have added or subtracted from my mark.
After a short epic surface swim, “blowing and towing” my victim (not as much fun as it sounds!) I had to attempt the dreaded ladder climb. Might I just add that while I am not a little girl, there is only so far up a ladder I can drag a 6’4″ German beast of a man! Total ego blow! Luckily there were some chivalrous gentlemen on the boat I enlisted the help of, although not technically allowed. Needless to say, if you ever come diving with me, for your own safety, make sure someone stays on the boat!
A few days after successfully completing my Rescue course I had my DMT (dive master trainee) orientation. What I learnt is that my ass pretty much belongs to the Dive school for the next few months. They sure don’t make it easy for you. If you want it, you’ve really gotta want it. It’s a solid month or two of fairly decent study and hard work, culminating in the final test, the snorkel test. I had the privilege horror of observing a snorkel test recently.
This right of passage, brought to you by your local PADI school, involves the graduating DMT’s being lined up and given random tasks to complete and questions to be answered. The sole aim being to have them consume as many shots of whatever alcoholic concoction has been created for them that evening. I won’t lie. I saw a guy drink a shot out of a soggy dive boot… That had just come off his instructors foot after a dive……..
Why am I doing this????
The final snorkel test involves the DMT’s drinking a bucket, similar to the ones bought at a full moon party, through a snorkel and mask. The catch is, your DMT mentor can put anything they like inside. I saw whole chilli’s, raw eggs including the shell, and there was talk of a Viagra surprise. Then after chugging the bucket, it’s a race against your other DMT’s to spin around your chair, submerge yourself in the ocean and back on your stool. Did I mention some people had to do this half naked. Frat houses should take a leaf out of a PADI book someday.
Maybe I want to be a librarian.
rock'n'roll mermaid 