Night of Liquid Fire
Sandi has been lazy and is refusing to write so thought would put in my bit on the night-time firefly cruise we went for after whale-watching. It's a 2-hr experience where you get taken out across the sea to a river mouth where you have these hundreds of fireflies that congregate on three trees and convert them into arresting, Vegas-style flashing displays that are quite out of this world!
We set out for the cruise in a little boat at around 7:30 pm, well after it was dark. The ride over to the firefly site was quite surreal - complete and utter silence, an inky-black sky dotted with a gazillion stars and the soft swoosh of the boatsmen's oars as we made our way, gently rocked by the waves ...
...and Sandi clinging to my arm and shaking in her boots completely spooked out by the darkness and the all-enveloping sense that we were the only living beings for about a thousand miles that did not sport gills and didn't have the common sense to stay on dry land rather than taking to the ocean in a bathtub - a sense that she communicated to me in urgent and insistent whispers that increased in volume till she frightened the boatmen who thought they were hearing voices from the deep and gave themselves up to rowing furiously for land.
And, oh, the phosphoresence! Liquid fire!! With every stroke, every ripple and every leaping fish, the sea comes alive in shimmering green and the boat leaves a vivid, flourescent trail behind it. If there ever was a time when I felt one with the universe, this was it.
Sandi, too, was feeling one with the Universe, as her soul had, by then, departed her body and was at that point roaming free and thinking positive thoughts or whatever it is that recently departed souls do while hovering over the Boat of Darkness as it made its way inexorably to the Isles of Doom.
I was, I admit, rather disappointed when we finally reached the banks and made our way up the river towards the firefly trees where Sandi's soul decided it was safe to make its way back to its earthly form and she perked up and played with fireflies for the rest of the evening before we started back for the resort.
"Look," I said,"crocodiles!" and sent her soul scurrying for cover as we made our silent journey to shore, to safety and back into the real world.
Pity.
We set out for the cruise in a little boat at around 7:30 pm, well after it was dark. The ride over to the firefly site was quite surreal - complete and utter silence, an inky-black sky dotted with a gazillion stars and the soft swoosh of the boatsmen's oars as we made our way, gently rocked by the waves ...
...and Sandi clinging to my arm and shaking in her boots completely spooked out by the darkness and the all-enveloping sense that we were the only living beings for about a thousand miles that did not sport gills and didn't have the common sense to stay on dry land rather than taking to the ocean in a bathtub - a sense that she communicated to me in urgent and insistent whispers that increased in volume till she frightened the boatmen who thought they were hearing voices from the deep and gave themselves up to rowing furiously for land.
And, oh, the phosphoresence! Liquid fire!! With every stroke, every ripple and every leaping fish, the sea comes alive in shimmering green and the boat leaves a vivid, flourescent trail behind it. If there ever was a time when I felt one with the universe, this was it.
Sandi, too, was feeling one with the Universe, as her soul had, by then, departed her body and was at that point roaming free and thinking positive thoughts or whatever it is that recently departed souls do while hovering over the Boat of Darkness as it made its way inexorably to the Isles of Doom.
I was, I admit, rather disappointed when we finally reached the banks and made our way up the river towards the firefly trees where Sandi's soul decided it was safe to make its way back to its earthly form and she perked up and played with fireflies for the rest of the evening before we started back for the resort.
"Look," I said,"crocodiles!" and sent her soul scurrying for cover as we made our silent journey to shore, to safety and back into the real world.
Pity.
posted by Unknown at
4:40 PM
1 Comments:
heh heh... I'm afraid of the dark too. And I don't have to be in eerie situations to feel that way. I still need VP to accompany me to the bathroom every night!
By
oormila vijayakrishnan, at 12:37 PM
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