Tales of a Maldives Virgin - Part I
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OP
cooperscuba
Contributor
It started with an itch.
After Kuda Faru and returning to our island for lunch, Bill, Ben & I completed the Advanced Open Water course by fearlessly navigating a series of lines, squares & triangles in the islands lagoon under the tutelage of Antonio. I don’t remember much about the dive, to be honest, except the visibility wasn’t very good. Waves, surge and a fine sand are not the best of companions.
“You might not believe it, but navigating in these conditions is a bonus,” said Antonio, “and if you get lost”, slight pause, glance at Sean, “you can just swim in to the beach.”
As I say, I don’t remember much about the dive. I don’t recall getting lost, certainly don’t remember having to exit the water to determine my location. Not saying I didn’t, I just don’t recall that I did and, if I did, I must have suppressed it (although that would then beg the question ‘Why didn’t I suppress the whole bloody holiday?’
.
I do recall an itch though, deep inside my left ear. It wasn’t, at this point, a persistent itch, just a sporadic itch but, when it did itch, it itched enough to make me involuntarily spasm my head to the left. After the dive, I mentioned the itch to Antonio. His reply was new divers often had difficulty with their ears, equalizing for the most part but not uncommonly after diving.
“Can you equalize now?”
“Yeah, but it’s accompanied by a weird sound, like someone sucking in air through their teeth?”
“Mmm ... does it hurt?”
“No, not now or when I equalize, just a weird sound when I do so,” pause, spasm head like a dog with a flea, “and the itch.”
“Mmm ... I’m not a doctor, but I think you ought to make no more dives today,” which didn’t seem too difficult even for me; it was almost sundown and there wasn’t a night dive scheduled that night, “and see how you are in the morning.”
That evening, when I laid myself to rest, I went deaf in my left ear. My right ear couldn’t decide whether to join it’s companion or not, so elected for a “You’re deaf ... now you’re not. You’re deaf ... now you’re not” approach. I decided that I probably wouldn’t be diving the next day, so switched off my alarm and went to sleep.
Next morning I woke still deaf in one ear, with intermittent deafness in the other. To make matters interesting my left ear was now also oozing a light brown substance, with the appearance of a soft epoxy resin. There were also, I noted with the beginnings of a mild panic, hints of blood in the resin and on my pillow case.
Bugger.
At the dive center Klaus advised, sometimes using a visual aid (i.e. a pen and paper), that I just rest easy for a few days and see how it went.
“And anyway, there isn’t a doctor on the island,” he added.
Bugger.
“I really don’t fancy just leaving it, to be honest.”, I shouted during a bout of deafness, “There must be an island with a doctor somewhere? What about Tuna Island?”
“No, they haven’t either. Their chefs do a great chili tuna sandwich though. Nearest doctor, I believe, is on an Italian resort in that direction.” At this, Klaus cast his arm in the direction of the Italian island.
“Mmm ... there’s no island actually there,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, you can’t see it from here but it’s there, don’t worry; you’d just need to travel 15 ... maybe 20 minutes before you’d see it.”
“Can you arrange a transfer for me?”
“Would love to. Unfortunately some of our bar staff and a couple of guests managed to ground the speedboat the other day and damaged the engine.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Klaus’ voice now sunk to a conspiratorial whisper, “Yeah, they did and do you know what?”, it was a rhetorical question, “One idiot apparently even managed to get lost at sea, on a banana boat - can you believe it?”
“Never!”
“Yeah, he did. Drunk and riding a banana boat at night. You do meet some idiots here, I can tell you. Anyway, it’ll be a few days before it’s repaired, I hope, so I can’t help you there. There is meant to be a supply boat arriving later this morning. I’ll speak to the skipper when, and if, they arrive; he’ll probably agree to take you but it’ll probably be a bit expensive.”
“Really?”
“I’d have thought so, yeah. If the speedboat was available, I’m sure Michael would have been happy to take you for the price of the fuel and a few beers, but the other boat is a working boat, time being money, sort of thing.”
A little later the cargo boat did indeed arrive.
“How much? $150!?”
Bugger.
“That does include the return trip I hope? It does? Right. Phew! Mmm ... he will wait for me, won’t he? I mean, he’s not going off to pick up cargo from somewhere and then come back for me the next day or anything stupid like that, is he? No? Great. Let’s go.”
The Italian island was huge (compared to Reethi Ra), with tennis courts, beach volley courts, several restaurants (as opposed to our one), and a medical center manned by Italy’s version of Dr. Nick “Hi everybody!” Riviera.
“Ewww! What’s this coming out your ear? I’ve never seen anything like that before”, is not the most reassuring thing to hear from a quack.
After I'd reassured him that I hadn't been applying sunscreen to my ear, Dr. Riviera decided a middle ear infection was the problem, prescribed anti-inflammatories, antibiotics, and then delivered the good news.
“You’ll have to keep your ears dry so stay out the water. How many days are you here for? Eleven? That’s good. If you’re lucky ...”,
“I might be able to dive in a few days?”
“Heh! Heh! Maybe, but I doubt it. No, I was actually going to say ‘you’ll be fit to fly home”.
Bugger.
“At least I’ll be able to work on my tan.”
“Heh! Heh! ... No, not really; the heat will aggravate the swelling around the ear. Better you stay out the sun, to be honest.”
Bugger.
“Guess I’m going to have a large bar bill by the time I fly home then.”
It was the time of FIFA’s 1998 World Cup France and my island’s management had had a television shipped in (the only television on the island) so everyone could watch the games. I had thought I would miss most of the matches due to the time difference - even the early kickoffs were at eleven in the evening, way too late for someone hoping to dive the next morning - Woohoo! A break at last; I could watch the matches and drown my sorrows (I supported England afterall).
“Heh! Heh! That’s probably not a good idea”, said Dr Nick, the yellow bane of parades and barbecues, “alcohol will not go well with the antibiotics I’m prescribing you. Better to stick with juices, tea, coffee, soft drinks, water ... that type of thing, but definitely no alcohol.”
Bugger.
My mood was somewhat subdued on the way back.
Effectively stranded on a sun drenched island (with the occasional, ten minutes long, monsoon rain) for the best part of two weeks and I had to stay in the shade.
Bugger.
Surrounded by some of the most acclaimed dive sites of the Maldives, and I couldn’t so much as go for even a paddle.
Bugger.
Fortunately my island lay on a North-South bearing, so I was at least able to go for walks; the west side in the morning, and the east side in the evening. Unfortunately the island, being only thirteen hundred yards long, meant my walks were either very short or very repetitive, and I stopped them after only a few days after I gashed my foot on some broken coral.
Ouch!
Bugger.
I’m not verbose by nature (honest!), I’m introverted rather than an extrovert, and prefer to keep my own company with a book rather than be in a court of fools. In 1998 there were no Kindles, no i-Pads, no electronic tablets or notebooks (well possibly there was some devices for the rich, but not in your average electronics shop). If you wanted to read on holiday, then you’d generally buy a book or three at the airport. You didn’t usually buy books with the idea that “hey, maybe, I’ll just get stuck in my room and have nothing to do but read, better buy a shed load, just in case”. My reading material dried up fast and boredom settled in quickly.
I didn’t want to really talk with anyone who was diving - ‘tell me one more time about the whale shark and I’m going to lamp you one on the chin, sunshine‘ - a drawback considering about half of the island’s guests were diving (the rest of the guests seemed to be comprised of couples on their honeymoons, or couples on holiday, planning weddings and honeymoons, who either kept to themselves or tried to gauge your opinion about wedding gowns, cakes, and flowers) and, anyway, I couldn’t hear what anyone was saying most of the time.
The bar offered a few distractions with the World Cup most evenings and the occasional hermit crab sweep stake:
Take 6 hermit crabs and paint numbers 1 through 6 on their respective shells.
Inscribe a circle, about 4 feet wide, in the sandy floor.
Inscribe a second circle, about a foot across, centered in the first circle.
Assign hermit crabs their racing names.
Allow punters to bid bottles of beers to race a crab for a single race - half the beers go to the race’s eventual winner, the other half goes to winner of the Sweepstake Grand Final.
Place hermits in the center circle, the first one to cross the outer circle wins.
Even though I needed bottles of beer about as much as a fish needed a bicycle, I decided I wanted in one evening and happily saw my crab (No5 - Julia Roberts) romp to victory in the 5th Race of the Argentina v England Night, earning me 20 bottles for the price of six. With my winnings I was able to secure Julia for the final race but her luck was with the English that night, who went out the world cup on penalties, and she failed to even exit the first circle before No3 (Scooby Dood) won the race.
After a seemingly eternity in a tropical hell, and still deaf in my left ear, the time came for me to pack my suitcase and bid goodbye to Reethi Ra and the Maldives. I wasn’t disappointed to do so, I felt my luck in paradise had been a bit grim.
At take-off from Male International Airport, and as if to confirm my luck, hearing flooded my left ear with a squelchy ‘pop’.
Bugger.
After Kuda Faru and returning to our island for lunch, Bill, Ben & I completed the Advanced Open Water course by fearlessly navigating a series of lines, squares & triangles in the islands lagoon under the tutelage of Antonio. I don’t remember much about the dive, to be honest, except the visibility wasn’t very good. Waves, surge and a fine sand are not the best of companions.
“You might not believe it, but navigating in these conditions is a bonus,” said Antonio, “and if you get lost”, slight pause, glance at Sean, “you can just swim in to the beach.”
As I say, I don’t remember much about the dive. I don’t recall getting lost, certainly don’t remember having to exit the water to determine my location. Not saying I didn’t, I just don’t recall that I did and, if I did, I must have suppressed it (although that would then beg the question ‘Why didn’t I suppress the whole bloody holiday?’
. I do recall an itch though, deep inside my left ear. It wasn’t, at this point, a persistent itch, just a sporadic itch but, when it did itch, it itched enough to make me involuntarily spasm my head to the left. After the dive, I mentioned the itch to Antonio. His reply was new divers often had difficulty with their ears, equalizing for the most part but not uncommonly after diving.
“Can you equalize now?”
“Yeah, but it’s accompanied by a weird sound, like someone sucking in air through their teeth?”
“Mmm ... does it hurt?”
“No, not now or when I equalize, just a weird sound when I do so,” pause, spasm head like a dog with a flea, “and the itch.”
“Mmm ... I’m not a doctor, but I think you ought to make no more dives today,” which didn’t seem too difficult even for me; it was almost sundown and there wasn’t a night dive scheduled that night, “and see how you are in the morning.”
That evening, when I laid myself to rest, I went deaf in my left ear. My right ear couldn’t decide whether to join it’s companion or not, so elected for a “You’re deaf ... now you’re not. You’re deaf ... now you’re not” approach. I decided that I probably wouldn’t be diving the next day, so switched off my alarm and went to sleep.
Next morning I woke still deaf in one ear, with intermittent deafness in the other. To make matters interesting my left ear was now also oozing a light brown substance, with the appearance of a soft epoxy resin. There were also, I noted with the beginnings of a mild panic, hints of blood in the resin and on my pillow case.
Bugger.
At the dive center Klaus advised, sometimes using a visual aid (i.e. a pen and paper), that I just rest easy for a few days and see how it went.
“And anyway, there isn’t a doctor on the island,” he added.
Bugger.
“I really don’t fancy just leaving it, to be honest.”, I shouted during a bout of deafness, “There must be an island with a doctor somewhere? What about Tuna Island?”
“No, they haven’t either. Their chefs do a great chili tuna sandwich though. Nearest doctor, I believe, is on an Italian resort in that direction.” At this, Klaus cast his arm in the direction of the Italian island.
“Mmm ... there’s no island actually there,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, you can’t see it from here but it’s there, don’t worry; you’d just need to travel 15 ... maybe 20 minutes before you’d see it.”
“Can you arrange a transfer for me?”
“Would love to. Unfortunately some of our bar staff and a couple of guests managed to ground the speedboat the other day and damaged the engine.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Klaus’ voice now sunk to a conspiratorial whisper, “Yeah, they did and do you know what?”, it was a rhetorical question, “One idiot apparently even managed to get lost at sea, on a banana boat - can you believe it?”
“Never!”
“Yeah, he did. Drunk and riding a banana boat at night. You do meet some idiots here, I can tell you. Anyway, it’ll be a few days before it’s repaired, I hope, so I can’t help you there. There is meant to be a supply boat arriving later this morning. I’ll speak to the skipper when, and if, they arrive; he’ll probably agree to take you but it’ll probably be a bit expensive.”
“Really?”
“I’d have thought so, yeah. If the speedboat was available, I’m sure Michael would have been happy to take you for the price of the fuel and a few beers, but the other boat is a working boat, time being money, sort of thing.”
A little later the cargo boat did indeed arrive.
“How much? $150!?”
Bugger.
“That does include the return trip I hope? It does? Right. Phew! Mmm ... he will wait for me, won’t he? I mean, he’s not going off to pick up cargo from somewhere and then come back for me the next day or anything stupid like that, is he? No? Great. Let’s go.”
The Italian island was huge (compared to Reethi Ra), with tennis courts, beach volley courts, several restaurants (as opposed to our one), and a medical center manned by Italy’s version of Dr. Nick “Hi everybody!” Riviera.
“Ewww! What’s this coming out your ear? I’ve never seen anything like that before”, is not the most reassuring thing to hear from a quack.
After I'd reassured him that I hadn't been applying sunscreen to my ear, Dr. Riviera decided a middle ear infection was the problem, prescribed anti-inflammatories, antibiotics, and then delivered the good news.
“You’ll have to keep your ears dry so stay out the water. How many days are you here for? Eleven? That’s good. If you’re lucky ...”,
“I might be able to dive in a few days?”
“Heh! Heh! Maybe, but I doubt it. No, I was actually going to say ‘you’ll be fit to fly home”.
Bugger.
“At least I’ll be able to work on my tan.”
“Heh! Heh! ... No, not really; the heat will aggravate the swelling around the ear. Better you stay out the sun, to be honest.”
Bugger.
“Guess I’m going to have a large bar bill by the time I fly home then.”
It was the time of FIFA’s 1998 World Cup France and my island’s management had had a television shipped in (the only television on the island) so everyone could watch the games. I had thought I would miss most of the matches due to the time difference - even the early kickoffs were at eleven in the evening, way too late for someone hoping to dive the next morning - Woohoo! A break at last; I could watch the matches and drown my sorrows (I supported England afterall).
“Heh! Heh! That’s probably not a good idea”, said Dr Nick, the yellow bane of parades and barbecues, “alcohol will not go well with the antibiotics I’m prescribing you. Better to stick with juices, tea, coffee, soft drinks, water ... that type of thing, but definitely no alcohol.”
Bugger.
My mood was somewhat subdued on the way back.
Effectively stranded on a sun drenched island (with the occasional, ten minutes long, monsoon rain) for the best part of two weeks and I had to stay in the shade.
Bugger.
Surrounded by some of the most acclaimed dive sites of the Maldives, and I couldn’t so much as go for even a paddle.
Bugger.
Fortunately my island lay on a North-South bearing, so I was at least able to go for walks; the west side in the morning, and the east side in the evening. Unfortunately the island, being only thirteen hundred yards long, meant my walks were either very short or very repetitive, and I stopped them after only a few days after I gashed my foot on some broken coral.
Ouch!
Bugger.
I’m not verbose by nature (honest!), I’m introverted rather than an extrovert, and prefer to keep my own company with a book rather than be in a court of fools. In 1998 there were no Kindles, no i-Pads, no electronic tablets or notebooks (well possibly there was some devices for the rich, but not in your average electronics shop). If you wanted to read on holiday, then you’d generally buy a book or three at the airport. You didn’t usually buy books with the idea that “hey, maybe, I’ll just get stuck in my room and have nothing to do but read, better buy a shed load, just in case”. My reading material dried up fast and boredom settled in quickly.
I didn’t want to really talk with anyone who was diving - ‘tell me one more time about the whale shark and I’m going to lamp you one on the chin, sunshine‘ - a drawback considering about half of the island’s guests were diving (the rest of the guests seemed to be comprised of couples on their honeymoons, or couples on holiday, planning weddings and honeymoons, who either kept to themselves or tried to gauge your opinion about wedding gowns, cakes, and flowers) and, anyway, I couldn’t hear what anyone was saying most of the time.
The bar offered a few distractions with the World Cup most evenings and the occasional hermit crab sweep stake:
Take 6 hermit crabs and paint numbers 1 through 6 on their respective shells.
Inscribe a circle, about 4 feet wide, in the sandy floor.
Inscribe a second circle, about a foot across, centered in the first circle.
Assign hermit crabs their racing names.
Allow punters to bid bottles of beers to race a crab for a single race - half the beers go to the race’s eventual winner, the other half goes to winner of the Sweepstake Grand Final.
Place hermits in the center circle, the first one to cross the outer circle wins.
Even though I needed bottles of beer about as much as a fish needed a bicycle, I decided I wanted in one evening and happily saw my crab (No5 - Julia Roberts) romp to victory in the 5th Race of the Argentina v England Night, earning me 20 bottles for the price of six. With my winnings I was able to secure Julia for the final race but her luck was with the English that night, who went out the world cup on penalties, and she failed to even exit the first circle before No3 (Scooby Dood) won the race.
After a seemingly eternity in a tropical hell, and still deaf in my left ear, the time came for me to pack my suitcase and bid goodbye to Reethi Ra and the Maldives. I wasn’t disappointed to do so, I felt my luck in paradise had been a bit grim.
At take-off from Male International Airport, and as if to confirm my luck, hearing flooded my left ear with a squelchy ‘pop’.
Bugger.
Last edited:
OK!! THANKS. Is there more about the fate of your ear (s)?
OP
cooperscuba
Contributor
Not really, they were (still are, thankfully, touch wood) working fine and squelch free about a week later.
SeaHorse81
Contributor
Awesome work, Sean. Pity about the trip, though.
Great write up Sean and not just for divers
Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk
Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk
DarinJ
Registered
Great writing and a very interesting story. Thanks for sharing it with us!
Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
You must have many more stories for us! Any guy that went off with locals drinking and fell off a banana boat once, must have many other amusing tales; perhaps with other feats of daring do and life or deaf experiences.
Great stories! Thanks for taking the time to write them.
OP
cooperscuba
Contributor
Awesome work, Sean. Pity about the trip, though.
Thank you, Seahorse. Yeah, wasn't the best holiday I've had
---------- Post added May 5th, 2014 at 09:36 PM ----------
Yeah, unfortunately I do have more tales. Will put flesh to keyboard soon.
---------- Post added May 5th, 2014 at 09:36 PM ----------
My pleasure. Glad you enjoyed them.
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