Diving in the terrourist camp

Nobody can just kitesurf all the time. After five days on the water, we want to get under it today. We book a dive in Sosua. The introduction takes place in the pool of a terrourist camp. There really are people who fly halfway around the world to be imprisoned. Not just in Guantanamo.

The terrourist camp is a good distance from Cabarete. So that the terrourists don’t get the idea of having any kind of contact with the indigenous people. With the exception of the beach vendors with coconuts. And the reanimatos with funny games like horseshoes. The typical terrourist is usually fat and sluggish. They are already sipping Cuba Libre at eleven in the morning. You can’t stand the techno drone without being drunk.

The air conditioning systems between the individual bungalows are so loud that you can’t actually stay outside without the risk of tinnitus. But who wants that? Two terror-stricken tots stagger past me: “It’s so uncredibly hot again today.” That’s right. That’s exactly why you’ve been transported from cold Europe to this camp. And now shoo shoo off to your air-conditioned basket!

Two pink Santas are fidgeting by the pool. “Put your hands up in the air!” Aerobic Clause swings his pointed cap, the walruses in the pool their fat pads. A picture for the gods, simply delicious. An ugly terrour looks on somewhat sceptically from under her parasol. She is sipping a Cuba Libre. Bang bang my baby shot me down…

So much bollocks makes you thirsty. I go to the bar. A Coke please! You’re identified as a non-terrourist due to the lack of a neon green passenger wristband. I only get something in exchange for a bespoke drink. Back at the pool. Sabine turns up.

An hour later we are in the bay of Sosua. The diving instructor from the Merlin diving centre is driving like a maniac. He dives slowly with us. There are few fish to be seen 15 metres out, a few single-coloured corals and a considerable amount of rubbish. But the dive costs 5 dollars more than advertised. Sabine doesn’t like the diving either, panics at 3 metres and breaks off. We have to organise our own way home.

The diving was rubbish. Somehow I feel like you should never go diving again if you’ve already done it once in Fiji. But it was still worth it. I had a great time at the Terrourist camp. I’m sure some readers will now accuse me of arrogance. I’m happy to accept that. Entitlement really is a cruel form of modesty these days.