It's the ball to the boot of peninsular Malaysia - the country's Sicily if you will. The island of Tioman is a 90-minute ferry ride from the costal town of Mersing. Kate and I packed our courage to brave the deep and investigate the wrecks and wildlife of the island's extensive coral mantel.
With an longstanding fear of having her head underwater, Kate was a champ. After mastering equalization problems in her ears (known as a "squeeze", she descended swimmingly to 30 meters (100 feet). There we were greeted by sunken fishing vessels, rays, sea slugs, hawksbill turtles, brain coral, and fishes of overwhelming variety.
But it was not all underwater sightseeing. We were there on a mission to secure our advanced diver certification. And that is what we did. Two days of theory and three days of dive after dive, we made it - thanks to a great guide and a little Actifed.
Here are a few shots of the course, the tribulations, and the rewards:
Saturday, August 01, 2009
Having fun with Shibuya square (渋谷区)
Not much of a post. Just having some fun. This is Shibuya square, shot from the upper-level of a Starbucks in Tokyo. The rain was coming down, and it was fun to catch the commuters with their umbrellas popped and scrambling to their offices.
The real Asia: Tsukiji central fish market (築地市場)
Japan's stoic fishermen trade billions worth of fish a year at the Tsukiji central fish market. This covered labyrinth boasts tuna, octopus, salmon, sea urchin, crab, prawn, oyster, abalone, flounder, sea bass, and any other fruit of the sea imaginable (and many that are not). Styrofoam cases filled with fish and ice line the corridors, chilling the lanes through which traders lug their laden barrows and recklessly steer their gas-powered carts.
The smell is conspicuously un-fishy. It is all fresh, brought on shore no more than an hour ago. It is 5:00 a.m., and we hitch a ride on a barrel-engine go-cart, holding on tightly as the driver swerves between piles of the day's catch. Our destination is the main attraction: the wholesale tuna trade.
The viewing section in the hall is packed with tourists, some of whom are making their last stop of a long, no-doubt alcohol-charged night. A uniformed man frantically pleas with the masses to shut off their flashes, lest the bidders' view of rows of tuna be hampered during the intense auctioning. The bells sound, and the bidders' shouts echo through the frosty arena and the flashes intensify.
We squeeze out of the crowd and into a slight drizzle. We seek shelter for our cameras among the fishy catacombs, where traders are already processing their purchase. A stout man in a T-shirt and hachimaki smokes a cigarette with the corner of his mouth while his hands are busy pushing a tuna torso through a band saw. Another trader performs surgery on a smaller specimen, removing fin and bone, while a woman, presumably his wife, counts yen bills in a small wooden booth next to him.
Strangely, the maze leads us seemingly intentionally to an aisle full of sushi shops. We sit down to a cup of tea and delve into a bowl of miso soup and several slivers of sashimi on sesame rice. It is 7:30 a.m.
