Dolphins and Thunderstorms

I´ve just got back from a brilliant way to wake up - a breezy boat trip to see the local dolphins. Despite both feeling pretty incredibly sleepy having got up before sunrise for once, we still managed to enjoy the morning, and arrived to see the sun coming up somewhere inland, casting a purpley haze over the beach, where ten or so men were pushing fiswhing boats into the water. We were chatting to a man called Shaun, who asked us first if we had our wallets, then if we knew Carol (I have discovered it is withoute -e) - she´d managed to forget her own wallet when she last came. The morning was coming on beautifully, the sunlight already starting to get hot, the sea was a very opaque shade of mauve, and we already liked our captain.

It turned out however that Shaun was not our captain. Ours instead was a nameless chap who arrived late, ad to take us back inland almost as soon as we´d headed out because he´d forgotten to pick up the petrol (very professional), then spent most of his time on his mobile phone even more professional, surely?) He knew how to drive a boat though, and how to find dolphins, namely, motor about a bit until you see one, then follow it for an hour. We were not disappointed here; there were many, many of the things, happily arcing their backs through the water in schools and jumping into the air with ferocious energy in order to lull the sardines intense of security before they gobbled them up.

Here´s what I think: dolphins are a bit weird. Having only ever seen them on telly, and that either as cartoons or in the almost-cartoon Lassie-type series ´Flipper´that I seem to remember watching in childhood, I found their smooth backs and short, stubby tails very odd to be seeing in real life. I suddenly wanted, like a person with a list of things to do before they die, to swim with them, and envisaged jumping straight in without a word, despite not exactly being a swimmer: like the Greek myths, the dolphins would surely take pity on me, allow me to grab one of their bottle noses and swim me to shore, singing in their cackly little voices all the way.

I did not do this. The oth thing I know about dolphins is that they are a higher form of intelligence, at least according to Douglas Adams, who thinks that they have to be because, frankly, a life of swimming, eating and laughing at humans, surely more intelligent that what we´ve got going on? Or Kurt Vonnegut, who writes about the future of human evolution in ´Galapagos´, most notably that we´re all probably going to be simple seals, eating, swimming and procreating, with no worries at all. If indeed dolphins are a higher form of life, they´d probably cackle at me all right, be all cute and allow me to catch hold of one of their noses, then dump me on a rock out to see and laugh, shouting ´Now go looking for a mermaid!´

Re-reading that, I may have a little too much sun. Or books: I finished the Aherne yesterday (oddly passable) and am into the Diamond, and something else rather excellent called ´People of the Book´. Something i can´t possibly have had enough of are the storms we´re getting out here.

The day before yesterday was good fun: we made it to the beach, got too hot and came home, went for another excellent brownie with Krupa, had dinner with Krupa, Carol and Wolf and Sergio (Wolf was leaving in the morning so it was a nice goodbye) and then went out with Krupa and Carol for drinks in town. We found a gorgeous place called casa Bablylon full of random iconographic masks and LOTS of books, mostlý very odd titles like ´How To Catch Bottom-Feeding Fish´ , and had Caipirinas and Mojitos, before heading to the first floor Bar Fly to watch the waves hit the shore in the dark, drink more cocktails, and bask in the atmosphere. (The evening may have also involved s people chatting to barmen and eyeing up surfers.) The atmosphere was aided further by mucho thunder and lightning over the sea, and we got home about 1am to watch for a storm, but were finally disappointed by 2 as it drifted out to sea.

Last night however we weren´t. We got home after dinner to sink a few beers with the new arrivals Solveg and Osmond, more honeymooners, this time from Norway, although confusingly Solveg learned English in Dublin so has a really strong Irish accent. The thunder and lightning started again, and this time got heavier and heavier, til we raced up to the first floor terrace to watch what became an amazing light show. Bolts of lightning were hitting the ground a few kilometers away, knocking out power to streetlamps, and the sudden difference between the pitch blackness and sudden almost-daylight was astounding to someone who´s best storm to date has been a quiet-ish London one with little bursts of light hidden in the clouds. The storm then moved past us and onto the coast, looking like it was out to sea, and illuminating the horizon every few seconds in rapid, explosion-like bursts of light. I played around with my camera, managed to get a fe purple-clouded shots and a short film of boltsn lighting up the mountains, but my stupid little ultra-modern machine has no facility for changing exposure times! Rubbish! I miss my old one...real film in the old days... rant rant...

We went to bed with the more distant murmur of angry thunder gods still banging on outside and occasional flashes, thinking no wonder the ancient mesoamericans and pretty much every other civilisation thought there were indeed gods in the sky. This happens all the time here. Paradise in so many ways.

---

---