Divemaster trainees and their divemaster buddy taking underwater selfies. Shameful.
I know. Divemaster trainees are paying customers too. Paying to be certified as professional, safety-oriented, reliable and competent diving guides.
I hope to NEVER encounter these clowns in the future working in a dive shop I’m patronizing.
Trainees had their fun while endangering the lives of other divers.
I’d travelled thousands of miles and several days to get to this dive resort. Planned the trip two years prior. And this is what I get. Not on every dive, but on a few.
The divemaster, who I was paying to guide me and others, goofing off underwater with his divemaster trainee buddies. Take selfies, doing handstands, blowing rings.
Let’s be clear. The trainees were NOT undergoing training on these particular dives – just adding dives to their logbook and gaining ‘experience’.
There was a strong current on the particular dive where I took these photos. Which is taxing. Which makes you breathe hard and use up your air more quickly. While our divemaster played with his friends, I struggled to NOT be carried off by the current.
In my opinion, these guys behaved in a way that endangered the rest of us. They distracted the divemaster by engaging him in their fun and games.
More divemaster trainee antics.
I hope to return to this wonderful dive location someday. But, likely won’t be diving with this company.
Okay, I’m kinda bullshitting you, but the orang utans were down the street.
I was booked into the Sepilok Nature Resort in Sandakan, Sabah, Malaysia for one night. The plan was to visit the world famous Sepilok Orang Utan Rehabilitation Centre the next day before driving for two hours to the Kinabatangan River and Myne Resort, where I hoped to see more orangs, monkeys, crocs and elephants.
If I’d known the nature resort was going to be so awesome, I would have arranged to stay longer.
Though located on the outskirts of a major city, the resort was tranquil – the thick forest muting all traffic sounds. The chalet in which I was booked was cozy and featured an amazing bathroom.
Look at that cute fish poking its head out of the filthy water. Not so much to look at me, but to encourage me to deposit some of my breakfast its way.
The orang rehab was a typical tourist place. I get it. Admission pays for the important work they do. The best part was at the end, when a ‘horny’ (according to staff) teen boy orang joined us on the walkway in an effort to snag a mate. A human mate.
The staff moved this fellow along before he could grab a tourist, a constant chore, they said.
The tours are offered several times a day, when the orangs are fed. Once rehabed, they’re encouraged to leave the protected area.
I loved my visit to Sabah and plan to go again. Here are some of my other postings from Malaysia.
Okay, maybe I’m being a bitch. But, WTF is wrong with these people?
You’re on a plane for two hours. The flight crew gives you the Mexican travel documents at least an hour before the plane lands. The documents are in English. You’ve got plenty of time to fill them out before you get to the customs hall at your destination.
But no. You don’t bother.
Because, what’s better than being the centre of attention at the airport by holding up the other passengers from your flight at the customs lineup while, cluelessly standing there, you dig out your passport and boarding pass, ask around to borrow a pen and then set about filling in the travel documents who should have attended to on the plane.
Inconveniencing people means having power over them. Don’t it feel good?
These are the photos I snapped in the customs hall. Before the police officer instructed me to stop.
I had my documents ready and pushed past these folks. People can mess about all they like. Just don’t be a nuisance to the rest of us.