Will Work for Scuba

Nha Trang, Vietnam. There is something philosophically circuitous about deciding to settle down for a while in the town my father was stationed in when he served back in '67.  So much has changed that I doubt he would recognize it at this point, but there is at least one remaining element that may strike a nostalgic chord--out here, everyone smokes. Men smoke, women smoke, little babies light up in their strollers. They smoke while driving, they smoke while walking, they smoke while eating, and I'm fairly certain that plume of smoke I observed emanating from the bathroom was not the outcome of a fiery bowl of noodle soup. Frankly, I'm thinking of taking up smoking full time if only for the benefit of adding a filter.

Still, that hasn't stopped me from deciding to stay. The diving has a way of getting under your skin out here--and I'm not referring to the nitrogen bubbles that cause decompression illness. Rainbow Divers made me an offer I couldn't refuse. Build a computer, install some software and mess around with their Web site, all in exchange for a free ride all the way up to Dive Master, with an Underwater Digital Photography Specialty.

This is exactly as confusing as it looks

Long story short, after a month or two of training I will learn all of the skills I need to be able to lead my own dives. All of which will take me that much closer to my life-long dream of being too lazy to ever consider opening a dive shop. 

In the mean time, I work with the dive crew and get to go diving almost every day. We get up with the sun, head down to the storage facility, load the truck with air tanks and scuba gear, drive to the harbor, set up all the gear, then relax over a hot steaming bowl of spicy noodle soup (a few extra cents for a couple of hard-boiled quail eggs on top) until the customers arrive. We smile and chat while the boat pulls away from the harbor, then head to the front of the boat (the pointy bit, as they say) to be introduced properly, as the rest of the instructors cheer and clap and laugh where they are supposed to. It's a hoot. 

The dive is done and I'm on the sun deck for the ride back to port. The wind is blowing through my hair. The sun makes short work of my soggy bones. The sea air is sharp and clear. All I need is my bottle of rum. Yo-ho, a diver's life for me.