Aliya and Heida in Africa: Adventures in Snorkeling

The Thursday of our Weds-Sat trip to Zanzibar, I convinced the girls that we absolutely had to go snorkeling. We got our gear, paid our dollars, slathered on our sunscreen, and waded out to the boat – towels, clothes and cameras held high overhead, carefully minding our steps for any looming sea adversaries. Until, that is, we finally arrived at the vessel, at which point Heida impaled herself on a sea urchin. Directly behind her, already mid-step, and not known for my speedy reaction time, I then skewered myself on the same urchin. Aliya, able to learn from the lessons of others, successfully avoided the #$&%!@.

As Heida struggled into the boat, writhed in pain, rattled off a list of choice words and bled all over the deck, and painful, inky spots of purple formed on the inside of my left heel, staff remained unconcerned and unhelpful. Enter blonde marine biologist in board shorts to the rescue, who instructed someone to go get an unripe papaya, then stabbed holes in it and squeezed the juice all over our feet to relieve the stinging.
Which it did not. But we pretended it did over the next very many minutes it took us to reach the reef in our semi-rickety contraption – a journey of a new and/or different sort of discomfort for those of us more in need of the forgotten Dramamine than others.

Once we arrived at our destination, the snorkeling itself was fantastic. Nemo was no where to be found, but we saw zebra fish and bright blue and green guys and creepy looking slithery things reminiscent of Ursula’s comrades. Coral opened and closed and sponges breathed in and out. As is to be expected, we couldn’t help but belt out a few rounds of “Under the Sea.”

Darling it's better

Down where it's wetter

Take it from me

Up on the shore they work all day

Out in the sun they slave away

While we devotin'

Full time to floatin'

Under the sea

I may or may not have taken a flying leap off the upper deck of the boat, nearly capsizing the rest of the passengers, before we headed into shore for our Zanzibari BBQ. Amaaaazing. They had fresh grilled tuna and rice and vegetable stew and chapatti and bananas and pineapple and papaya waiting there to be feasted on. Those of us not on the verge of puking happily obliged.

Since Aliya got off without the pleasure of the urchin sting, it was only fair that her sea sickness be exacerbated on the ride home. Out come the motor, in went the rudder, and up went the sail.
Between Heida’s bleeding feet, my purple heel, and Aliya’s green complexion? We were almost all the colors of the rainbow.