Our “diving” in the Jamaican waters was worse than we expected. The shanty was rusted and beat up. The snorkel masks we used looked like they hadn’t been washed in weeks. The spot chosen did not let us see anything interesting let alone memorable.
Wanting only to get back on the cruise ship, we headed back its way. There, still sitting near the end of the dock, was the lady from before, continuing her chant as though it was her God-given destiny.
“Watah one dolla’. Two bucks for da big one!” That’s all she said in her thick, native accent. Over and over. That, and a “thank you” when she was given her money in exchange for the bottled water.
I may have told this anecdote in the past, but it’s relevant to Amanchu!. Not just because of the diving but because of the situation. For, like Teko and Pikari, I choose to look at this one differently. I see it as a time where I tried something different and where I earned a quirky memory.
In contrast, and thankfully, Amanchu provided nothing but joy.