Penguining Around

The Penguin came to be in the fall of 2008. I picked it up for TWO DOLLARS!!!! (Probably the best/most entertaining investment - yes, investment - of my life) at a Value Village just off the Brown Line's Kimball stop. It almost never was: I was with my friends, Christine and Erin, and while I believe I spotted it first when we walked through the door and the heavens opened up and the hallelujah chorus began, Erin was closer and slung it over her arm with a smile. My heart fell, and I picked up a child's Little Mermaid costume instead. In wandering the store, Erin found something to make her Snuggler (link isn't the whole video, as Vevo is apparently unavailable in my country - just another reason that Guam isn't really America...) costume come true, I must admit that I gave some encouragement that it would be the best costume at the party. I am happy to report that she spent most of the evening running around with her hands in her jorts pockets before snuggling random party-goers. I also found a pimp-style hat, so I obviously became the Super Pimp[tress] Penguin, saving all the prostitutes from their abusive bosses.

Oh, but the whole reason of the costumes... though, does there ever really need to be a reason for costuming? No, no there doesn't. I ran the 2008 Chicago Marathon for the Christopher and Dana Reeve Foundation, and my friends threw me a Superhero [Fundraising] Party at their house.

There were more people inside... not dressed up, so we didn't tell them about the picture.

That was the beginning.

Then there was Halloween 2008 where I rode my bicycle to work, downtown Chicago, in costume, though the blinders of the head proved difficult in navigating through traffic. It was a hit among co-workers, I must say. I also donned it at the Critical Mass that month - which I love until the bicyclists start acting obnoxious towards the motorists and purposefully disrupting traffic. I digress.

I wore it on many occasions in America, and then, in the summer of 2009 when I was stressing over things to pack for Korea, another Erin friend casually demanded that I pack the Penguin and take it with me, documenting everywhere I went. Giddily, I obliged. And the blog was born.

While Halloween 2009 was the first appearance of the Penguin overseas, Halloween does not count as everyone else is dressed in costume, too. Though I did win third place (bottle of whiskey) at a bar in Seoul's Itaewon area, for the "Funky Penguin" (I had an inflatable electric guitar that I shredded on).

Beijing was the first stop, Christmas Break 2009. My friend, Briana, and I were mobbed every time we stopped to catch our breath - I never knew the Great Wall was so steep - or take a photo of the scenery.

A Penguin and a blonde - needless to say, the people went wild!!

Then there was the DJ Fest in Seoul, May 2010.

My school director's wife told me she saw me and my friend, Andrea, in a clip on KBS (Korean Broadcast Station). Again I say, Korea was a crazy, magical land.

July 2010 brought the Penguin to Japan.

Here I am in Shibuya, at that giant crossing you see in every film featuring Tokyo. Japan was lovely. I love Asia. The rest of the world probably, too, but I haven't been there... yet.

Okay, so this photo is completely and totally irrelevant to the Penguin, but I just love it a lot; I'm a fan of face cut-outs. Nagoya, Japan. We went to the castle because the sumo tournament's cheap tickets were sold out.

Then the solo adventuring began in September 2010. Unfortunately I only have one picture from my alone time in the Philippines, and it's not the Penguin...

My last day in Banaue, one of the locations of the ancient Ifugao rice terraces. That morning I woke up and cursed myself that I hadn't taken a picture yet... sometimes I wait until the last minute to do things, though only sometimes. I'm human, despite what these pictures show. I Penguined up and stepped out to the guest house's green balcony to set up a self-timer when two Taiwanese girls came out to the common area and froze in an awe that could only be paralleled to seeing a real-live unicorn. They took my picture for me in trade for me posing in a picture with each of them. I feel at peace knowing that my Philippines Penguin pictures are out there somewhere. 

Then there was Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam... though the photos go: Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand...

Here I am on the beach in Vung Tau, Vietnam. I had a man take a photo of me where I just gave up trying to convince a cone-hatted lady to stay in the frame, but she wasn't having it because I said I wasn't going to buy her beads. I look happier here. Note: I walked from my guest house to the beach and back in costume, I figured I was going to get stared at either way as I was the only white person I saw in that area. I also bought some delicious grapefruit from a stand on the way. So big and juicy!!

Onward to Cambodia!!

Outside my guesthouse in Phnom Penh. After making arrangements for a tuk-tuk driver to take me to my bus later that night, I ran upstairs to change and asked him to take a few photos for me. I wish I would've had my costume with me when I rode a cyclo, but this will do.

Okay, so this one isn't a Penguin pic, but I was browsing through my travel photos and given the spidery events of the other night (which I haven't told you about yet, and I won't now) I just had to share this image. Yes, the woman is cooking the tarantulas. And the bus drivers were eating them, happily and hungrily. Licking the juices off their fingers. Hey, whatever floats your boat, misters. The young, German Freud look-a-like on my bus shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly when I stared at him in open-mouthed horror questioning his reason for trying one earlier in his trip and what they tasted like. He said it wasn't a big deal and that it was a little over-cooked. What a smug guy. I should've asked him to prove it.

Back to Thailand! (Pardon the profanity in this one.)

Taken on Khao San Road, Bangkok's backpackers' mecca. I'm holding a Chang beer which is rumored to list formaldehyde in its ingredients and supposedly ranges anywhere from 6-10% in alcohol content, depending on where it was brewed. They give what's called "Changovers."

Across to India!!

Out in front of the Red Fort in Delhi. I was going to go to the Taj Mahal, but I didn't want to rush the trip, so I figured this would work for now. A couple of British ladies took the photo for me. I then went to watch the light show which was basically a 1940s Disney radio show and I left early to go walk around the market all decked out for Dwali before hitting up the lit up India Gate.

GUAM! And then we're done - though I just realized that I didn't take the Penguin with me to Saipan. Darn!

 These next ones may or may not be considered blasphemous to you. If they are, I apologize. It was all in good fun.

Of course the Penguin was present at the birth of Jesus. You missed that verse? It's a good one. The Wise Men actually followed its beak. (I like this one because you get a good shadow in there.)

 I know this is almost the same as the one previous, but the caption is totally worth it: "Did you hear the one about the three Wi- oh wait..." Right? Right?

And the Obamas were there, too.

And that's all I have for you right now. Until Hawaii and the continental United States, also known as HOME!! (THIRTY DAYS!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Also note that while I was off gallivanting on my own at times, none of this would've been possible without a little help from my friends and kindness of strangers I met along the way. 

April 26, 2011

It smells like summer everyday. Hot pavement. Cut grass. A stiff breeze blowing the smells around. A hint of plumeria. Occasionally it rains and the scent afterwards reminds me of sucking lava rocks in the summertime. There aren't any fireflies here though. Heat blanketed humidity causes sweat to pour from every pore.
I am here now, and it is wonderful.

Duh! Duh-duh-duh! Duh-duh-duh! Duh-duh-duuuuuuuuuuuuuunh!

I was going for a "Final Countdown" title (are the band members of Europe NASA rejects? How 'bout that frontwoman's eyes? He'd totally make the Asian babies cry), and just realized that I typed up the "Eye of the Tiger" intro - that's okay, it's actually more applicable because I did my time and I took my chances going the distance in Asia and the South Pacific, now I'm not going to stop. And everything did happen too fast, but I suppose that's life.

601 days away, 38 to go. SIX HUNDRED AND ONE!! That sounds like an awful lot, and if I were tally-marking on a cell wall I'd be really sad. I know shouldn't be counting down, I know this, but I'm just so excited and scared and uncertain and curious. (Terrified beyond words to tell you the truth, especially when I read things like this, but pretty excited too. I frequently go back and forth on the subject if you couldn't tell.) Thirty-eight, and they're going to fly. I'll be unemployed in America and forced back out into the global workforce before I know it.

I'm actually attempting to apply for jobs I applied for "ah" job in Chicago (and put all my eggs in that basket, so fingers crossed. Seriously, cross your fingers, pray, meditate, hold your lucky rabbit foot, do whatever so I'm not living on your couch indefinitely - neither of us want that, and neither do my student loan collectors), but lack of internet - apparently the guy who set up the system on Guam (or maybe just at PIC?) was fired a month or two ago and that's when the problems of no connection began... so the rumor mill says - and my embracing of the laid-back island life is making that attempt more difficult than I imagined. So I shall just be for the moment, with minor panic attacks striking at random intervals. I haven't started breaking into sobs yet, so that's a good sign.


I might be turning into Jimmy Buffett, but I've finally come around to island music!! (Leave it to me to start loving something right before I get ready to leave.) It took me about three and a half months, but I finally embraced the songs comparing women to mangoes and talking about love on the beach and it being 96 degrees in the shade. A lot of the stuff they play at the waterpark is from Hawaii, but my most favorite song is Guamanian... (I'm not even kidding. It makes me happy. And while the only version I could find was this low-ceilinged Vegas banquet hall video, you get the jist. HAFA ADAI! HAFA ADAI!! HAFA HAFA HAFA HAFA ADAI!!!!!!!! HAFA ADAI!!! Only watch/listen to the first song. Isn't it fun!? I heard it five times yesterday, I kid you not, and I sang along and clapped every time - I was at work, so it was entertainment for the guests.)

America. I'm afraid of you, just like David Bowie being chased by Trent Reznor circa 1997.

In other, less panicked news, I'm going to have a two-day layover in Oahu before heading to LA and then onward to KC before hitting up STL and finally CHIIIIIIIIIIICAGOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I've never been to Hawaii, and I've only stepped into the LAX parking lot to meet a dear friend during my layover in August 2009.

I started feeling a strange nostalgia for this place as I was walking from clocking out to yoga this evening. It's so awesome here. Everyday is paradise even when it rains and the cockroaches come crawling, and despite some bogus rules and regulations at work, there are more pros than cons to this job. And even though I miss my family and friends with a heart-wrenching squeeze, and have worked at the waterpark at least one shift every day for the past two weeks and I'll be there almost every day next week, I'm happy here. How could you not be with the sunshine and the ocean? And the people I work with are lovely, from my fellow Clubmates to the housekeeping staff, F&B cats, maintenance guys and just everybody.

I have 38, more like 37, days left to enjoy Guam: diving, hiking, hopefully doing a hash run, karaoke, going back to Ritidian Beach, checking out Pagat Cave, jumping off the short tower at Inarajan, climbing Mt. Lam Lam at sunrise and doing meditation and yoga, and a few other things that I haven't thought of yet, or are slipping my mind at the moment... I don't have that many days off, but luckily we're currently at 57% guest capacity so I won't be working that much and a few of those things can be squeezed into one day.

Guam is good. I hope things are great with you and that you're happy wherever you are, because (so I've heard) where you are is where you are meant to be. So enjoy this moment because soon it will fade into a fond and fuzzy memory.

(This song just came on my iTunes and I like it quite a lot, so I'm sharing, though this is my favorite Fruit Bats song, ever.)

PS - I'm just joking about the unemployment... I hope. I'm really looking forward to using all these overseas experiences in whatever comes next, job market willing.

Man versus La Cucaracha

COCKROACHES!!! They're everywhere!! Outside. Inside. Like vampires, they only come out at night - so I've seen, but knowing my luck they'll probably come out to haunt me during the daytime now that I'm talking about them... you know how people always seem to do that, when you're gossiping and then the person you're dishing on is within earshot? No good.

To start at the beginning of this buggy journey. When I was at the farm in India, pouring through books in the dusty library - trying to avoid the leeches, I finally read Franz Kafka's "The Metamorphosis" (I had picked it up years ago, but for some reason - probably the turning into a giant cockroach overnight part - I put it down) gaining a newfound respect for all things six-legged (spiders are still on my blacklist). After the farm, I spent time in Anjuna, Goa (touristy and full of old hippie-partiers who love leather/suede and "You have a look at my shop"-ladies, and cows), and encountered a cockroach on my first night there. Frozen with fear for a moment, then suddenly armed with my right shoe, Gregor Samsa crept into my mind and I just couldn't crush the little guy, no matter how many diseases were festering off his surface. I turned off the light, shut the door, and jammed the rolled up bath mat in between the floor and bottom of the door.

Since that time, I've also gone through a metamorphosis of sorts, and have returned to crushing cockroaches (if I can catch them) with a sick glee. No, no, no. I take that back. There is no glee, more of a relief that the room invader is dead and won't be crawling on my face in the middle of the night, biting my cheeks and laying eggs inside.

The cockroaches started coming early on in my history with Guam. It was a night not unlike tonight where the humidity was enough to kill a canary, but there was a gentle breeze and so Lindsay and Ryann decided to have their balcony door open. I think this was the first night that I tried to get everyone to watch "Moon", but it hadn't streamed all the way - blah, blah, blah, that's not important. So, Lindsay, Bobby, Ryann and I are hanging out, having chats and laughs, and then, for some reason we're standing in the middle of the room and all of a sudden, in a whoosh of brown light, some insect kamikazes into R's neck. She drops down in a frantic "Oh God!" and I say, "Don't worry, it was only a moth."
R: "It got me in the jugular!" at the same time the roach flies onto my leg,
ME: "NO IT'S NOT! IT'S A COCKROACH! IT'S A COCKROACH!!" as it flies further into the room I run the opposite way on to the balcony, slamming the door behind me.

YEAH, FLIES!! THEY FLY HERE!!! THEY FLY AND SCAMPER AND --- oooh! Yuck.

So I'm standing out on the balcony, by myself, screeching and shouting for my friends to kill it as the roach is trying to shove its way in between the [cement] wall and ceiling, reacting frantically to the loud noises we're emitting. Everyone inside is trying to usher the guy to the balcony and yelling at me that I have to open the door, but I don't want to get the roach on my face so I'm keeping the door shut. L is saying don't kill it, and while all of this lasted a good 5-10 minutes, I'll spare you the details and just end it with a glass jar chopping of its head.

Since then, there have been countless encounters. Working the Mountain (slide) rotation during Eve is the worst because you're in their domain and they're just crawling all over the rocks, their copper backs glinting in the moonlight. It's awful. Sometimes you can hear the screams of the Clubmates at night, followed by the thwacking of objects being thrown at the walls. Everybody here has at least one cockroach story.

About a month ago I was hanging out in my friends' room and we were just sitting and chatting, laughing too, and they had mentioned something about having a garbage-loving intruder, but they thought it had gone because they opened their door. Then I saw it on the wall and I screamed and ran out of the room (again, I don't deal well with emergency situations - surprise ones at least). Eventually I was cajoled back inside to find and destroy the demon, and I did. (The roaches are very sensitive to noise, by the way.) I shouldn't have killed the guy because maybe his friends would come looking for him, but I didn't appreciate being startled. Another reason why I shouldn't have killed him is because these same human friends had a cockroach in their room last week and called me down to hang out under false pretenses. They hadn't seen it in two hours, but were convinced he was still inside. I asked my friend if she wanted the roach to say good-bye, and I was imagining a cockroach in a top hat doing a little dance out into the hall like he was leaving a stage in the old days. She didn't think that was funny, so we rattled things that were shakable and stamped our feet to no avail seeing as how he was dead on his back on the balcony door sliding track.

Last roach story!! YAY!! There is no point to this post other than I have had encounters with roaches and wish to have no more!!

One day at swim-thru maintenance (where I get into SCUBA gear and basically janitorialize the algae and fish poop out of there - maybe I'll blog about it later... maybe.) I put on my tabbies/booties/water shoes/what have you's, and felt something up on my right toes. Thinking it was nothing more than the old fabric falling down I kept on keeping on what I was doing for a few minutes, then I strapped into my BC and stepped into the water only to have the "fabric" start to freak on me. Everything happened in fast slow motion as my mind realized something was alive and grotesque inside my shoe. Weighed down by the tank I struggled to take my shoe off as fast as I could and then dropped it in the water. A roach swam out! Swam! One of my co-worker friends scooped it out of the water and it started chasing me on land. I ran away (tank still on) and it disappeared into the jungle, hopefully to die, but probably not seeing as how cockroaches were the first things ever created (even before the world) and will be the last things to die, but they won't, they'll just float on into space towards some other star instead.

And that's it.

In Case of Emergency

(double spacing in between paragraphs isn't going away. deal.)


This is the fb post I wrote upon returning unharmed from higher ground after the Japanese earthquake spawning tsunami warning of March 11, 2011:

Guam is good!! Worry not. Mariana Trench totally melted that tsunami. Note: I did pack an emergency bag (full of journals and nothing survival ready) and evacuated to higher ground in a shaky, paranoid state. (I do not do well in emergency situations. Prairie girl dealing with thoughts of a "wall of water" = run, run, as fast as you can.)

Yeah. It's been over a month since that fated Friday in March. 

Here's what I wrote on the roof of the garage:


3.11.11
Tokyo: 8.9 on the Richter Scale.
What to pack in an emergency evacuation? 
-Panic. Written words taken. Memories irreplaceable. Screw things. Shaky hands.
7:09pm said to hit Guam
7:13pm
      on the roof of the
      parking garage.
Silly off-islanders, don't you know we got this Mariana Trench? Chill.
Eyes straining in surveillance of the sea, searching for the drawback of the water.
I don't do well in natural disasters: fact.
7:19pm I think we're okay, but maybe Mother Nature doesn't run on our clocks.


For the things I packed... my backpack already contained my wallet, sunscreen, banana chips, dice for Yahtzee, notebook [for Yahtzee - we will be entertained!], notepad, pen, water... things packed after being informed of potential imminent threat:
- journals (all!)
- Shel Silverstein's "The Giving Tree" that my girls Christine, Erin and Mariko wrote in and gave to me the morning they drove me to Korea via O'Hare.
- 19th birthday book my dear friend Alli made for me
- the Buddha my mom got for me when she visited me in Korea last July
- letters I need to mail to my friends
- address book with stamps tucked inside (forever stamps, hello!)
- flashlight
- external hard drive
- my roommate's driver's license and one of her belly dancing jangley belts (I didn't know; I was trying to help!)
- my passport (on running back to the room)
- sweatshirt


Mind you I was still not dressed appropriately as I was still in my bathing suit (Brits call 'em "swimming costumes"! Hilarious, right? And Kiwis say "togs" which doesn't make any sense at all, but Flight of the Conchords are from there, so I guess it does.) with a beach dress thrown over and flip flops. I did pack a flashlight, right? That's emergency stuff.


We'll go backwards and then forwards from here. To the past of the past: after spending the afternoon hanging out around the tide pools past the sewage treatment plant (quite a distance past, let's be clear) before Shark's Hole, swimming amongst the blooming life in the low tide and sitting underneath the jungle trees with buddies Dave (local), Lindsay, Ryann and Bobby, we rolled through traffic to fill up Dave's tank as thanks. At the gas station we listened to the news of Japan with dropped jaws and 7:09 pm rang in our ears along with the island beats bouncing in the background. "I think we'll be okay, did you hear the music in the background? If this was a real emergency there would be a siren. Right?" we tried to convince each other all would be alright. Dave didn't seem worried, he said the Mariana Trench has melted every water danger in the past. "There's a first time for everything," I stated skeptically in the backseat. 


We were rushing home to go to a department meeting, and Ryann had to work Eve - both things at 6. The meeting was inside the racquetball court, and I was watching the wind whip the palm tree fronds out of the small window, barely registering the words the General Manager was trying to ease our worried minds with. Things like, "A tsunami isn't some Hollywood wave that's 100 feet tall and then goes away, it's a 10- to 20-foot wall of water that rushes to shore destroying everything in its path." Oh, well I feel a lot better now. The other managers stepped in after the GM finished his pep talk (we were doing a good job so we could all die happy) and everything turned to clocking in on time and attending to the guests' needs before our own. One of the managers is known for going over allotted time and I started getting nervous as the clock neared 6:45pm. I kept imagining Titanic-like scenes of the water sweeping over different parts of the resort - after all, we are located on the lowest point in Guam. Then, Ryann came in ghost-faced white and I perked up trying to hear what she was whispering to Talkie. Something about how someone's cousin works for the National Guard or Homeland Security and we needed to move to higher ground. I hopped up on my haunches all excited and nervous, looking around, I shout-whispered to my stagnant co-workers, "Well what are we waiting for?" My manager didn't appreciate the hysteria and snapped that I could go if I really wanted to. Slightly shamed I sat back and kept track of my watch. I'd give him seven more minutes than I was booking it. He finished in six.


After the meeting I sped walked to clock out and talked nervously with co-workers, worrying if management was going to tell the guests at the water park what was going on or if we were going to have another Thailand 2004 on our hands. Once in Tower (where we off-islanders all live) my friend Amanda told me she talked to her dad and that he suggested she pack a bag and head to higher ground. "What do I pack?" I yelled as I ran to my room. "Things you can't replace!" she shouted to my back. I stood in the middle of my room for a second before I began frantically running back and forth between dresser, bed, desk and night stand, and back again. Muttering and measuring, I shoved random articles (you saw) of things irreplaceable into my backpack and ran out the door realizing I had nothing protective or sustainable if a tsunami really hit. Again, I kept getting Titanic-view, imagining water rushing through the hallways, scattering the trash and wardrobe remnants of Clubmates left and gone.


Once back in the hall, I met up with Amanda, Christina and Jessica and we headed - well, I ran up the hill and up the seven flights of stairs in the parking garage. Panting upon reaching the roof, I hoisted myself on top of the slab covering the stairwell and stared out at the black sea. It was impossible to see anything, but I kept trying to open my eyes wider in hopes of being able to detect the coming doom.

I didn't get the memo of making a worried face in the next photo. Slightly disappointed for such a big buildup with no show, but so glad for safety we returned to Tower. Those stragglers we found wandering around Tower after 7:30pm called for "Casa Nami in case of tsunami." (Casa Nami is a bar.) We walked up the hill, "emergency" packs still in tow, and had a beer while we watched the tsunami wash destruction over Japan, feeling horrible and helpless for all those people involved.

If you think I freaked out, one of my friends ran out of the park with a life vest and a helmet (I'm not going to name names) on head. I have been known to over-exaggerate weather warnings in the past. When I was eight or so, my mom, step-dad (Mike) and I went to watch "The Music Man" at Pioneer Park's Pinewood Bowl in Lincoln, NE. Sometime in the show it started raining and the wind began howling, I just missed getting knocked out when the set started blowing away. Right around that point the lights went out and I started screaming, "We're all going to die! We're all going to die!" My mom of course laughed at me as she tried to calm me down and stick with Mike on the way to the car. The drive back was no better as the radio was on and notified us of "cyclone spotted" and I continued to sob in the back seat as Mike tried to navigate around the downed trees. I wanted to sleep in the basement that night, and the house on Sumner street had the scariest basement in the world - a stringed light bulb and cement and kitty litter boxes and laundry - I didn't do it, but I wanted to. Obviously everything turned out okay and my mom and I took a walk the next morning to survey the damage in the neighborhood.


There was also a time when we lived in St. Joe and there was a tornado warning, and it was sometime after "Twister" and I was old enough to know better, but I was convinced we were going to be crushed or taken away and I called my dad in New Jersey and through tears told him that I loved him. He laughed and told me to calm down, or something, and that we'd talk later. That's what he thought! I hoped to make it through the night. Again, I did.


In short, I'm not the girl to mark as leader in the post-apocalyptic world [of 2013].

A-diving TIME!!

One thing I've taken away from Korea is the "________ time": "have a funny time," "it's a tasty time," "winey time," "dancey time." This list goes on; make it what you want. So there's your explanation for the title.

Now to tell you about the diving time. I went diving with my friends Jessica and Travis, and my new buddy Pete. Pete is probably in his early or mid-sixties. He's a cool dude and local with a few jaunts off the island. Basically covered head to toe in tattoos, tribal and the like. He's a retired judge. (The things they keep under their robes.) Honorable Pete also jokes that he was the first and original Dead Head. A real interesting guy and very generous when it comes to sharing the wonders of the open sea. (I did forget to ask him about diving over the Mariana Trench, so I'll try and remember that when I see him this week for another dive.)

Honorable Pete picked Trav, Jess and me up in front of the loading dock at work and we headed over to MDA dive shop to rent BCs and regs ($14/person = not too shabby for a super cool diving time). Then we headed out to the Atlantis something-or-other harbor with its rusty casing graveyard for the abandoned rigs of yesteryear. Jumping the waves out to sea with the sun beaming bright on our faces we smiled like fools from the sheer joy of the moment and the excitement about what lie below and ahead of us.

We couldn't dive the first spot because there was some sort of Marine Corps rifle-shooting operation going on on the cliff to the left so we back-back-backed it up to a spot called Blue Hole. 

(That's me on the left, falling down the hole like Alice. I got a little excited, laughing and spinning to the effects of nitrogen narcosis, and felt the pull of the electric blue as I passed the 130ft mark, but Honorable Pete jangled me back to reality. When diving, the leader or master, or what you will, has some sort of metal that he or she will click against their tank to get other divers' attention. Nitrogen narcosis becomes more common after diving past the 100ft/30m mark. The amount of nitrogen absorbed in the body is similar to the effects of drinking one martini [for every 50ft] on an empty stomach and NN is sometimes dubbed the "martini effect." The euphoria of diving in clear, warm water can be traded for paranoia and panic in murky, cold water; the danger increases as the diver descends, and while divers can learn to recognize and navigate through the effects, there is no way to gain tolerance. The effects are reversed upon ascending as the gas particles stop freaking out on the body. Dive safe!)

We were right off the rock of Guam, and the jutting cliffs above the sea gave way to a sloping shore underneath. It was like a dusty desert plain - this is always what I think about when diving. The wet, wild west. The gaping blue hole emerged from the midst of the sandy, coral desert and we descended into the neon glow. It was really surreal and I kept waiting for the rocking chairs and cuckoo clocks as the expired air bubbled above our heads. After I was called out of my nitrogen narcosis we swam around, took pictures, floated nearby as Honorable Pete clanged a rock trying to call sharks, and looked at an eel before Trav and I had to ascend early because we were wearing half lungs (tanks) as opposed to full.

All in all it was magical, and oh so nice to not have to wear a wet suit for the water was warm and wonderful. My first dive on Guam, and hopefully not my last. Planning a night dive (I'm going to vomit) this week, and I would really like to do some wreck dives as Guam is on the map for that kind of stuff.

PS - my brosefs, Alex (28) and Jake (18) are currently at the LCD Soundsystem concert in NYC. The last one. And I'm listening to (occasionally watching) it on pfork and feeling excited for them, but also insanely jealous. How awesome, right? America, I'm excited to go back to your live shows among other things.