The original plan was to take a snorkeling trip, but when we saw the weather we decided to postpone for a day. As it turned out, the forecast was completely wrong and we could have gone after all, but by then we’d missed the boat, literally as well as figuratively, so we decided instead to get our own, and paddle it.
I tell you what, it’s not as easy as it looks. Particularly when you’re battling the current in a fairly choppy sea. But brave troopers that we are, we made it to the next bay, then the next, where we stopped for a dip, then the next – even smaller – where we decided to go for a proper snorkel.
Virle lasted for over 100 metres before turning back, spooked by the jellyfish. We’d been told by the boat man that they were harmless, but I think we’d be forgiven for a touch of nerves. We’d encountered some washed up on the beach last night…
…and having seen what one the size of my palm did to me recently, I really couldn’t blame V for erring on the side of caution.
But I am made of sterner stuff, and set off to explore, after a brief conversation with a young fraulein who was peering at the waves dubiously: “Is that a jellyfish or a bag?” “I can’t actually see what you’re looking at, but don’t worry, it’s easy to tell the difference. The jellyfish look clearly like, well, like jellyfish.” “Ah yes, the testicles….tentacles?” “Tentacles, yes. Testicles are something quite different.”