Medusa

In Spanish as well as Italian, jellyfish travel under the much more descriptive moniker of ‘medusa’. Her headful of spiteful, poisonous snakes strikes me as a very apt way to name a jellyfish. We’ve been hear for almost a week now. In the first 3 days the water was smooth, with gentle waves and the snorkelling right off the beach was great. With the change of the moon, the weather and so the state of the water changed. The sea is choppy and the sand has been stirred up so much that there really isn’t much to be seen. I still love swimming in the ocean and spend as much time as possible in the ocean floating, swimming, lounging. Yesterday after some hammock time I was hot and in need of a float. Christopher had conquered his own hammock suffering it to support him and his computer so he could work and hang. I mention this because when I came screaming up out of the water running along the beach towards him it excuses what felt like a rather slow reaction time. As soon as I hit the medusa I knew it. I never saw a thing, I was just starting a slow breast stroke out into the waves when; “WHAM!” intense stinging on my face, back and right arm. Having had a few medusa run ins as a child swimming in the Atlantic I was familiar with the sensation, but oh, this was much worse. Chris came to my rescue at the freshwater shower peeling pieces of tentacle off me. The stinging went on. Happily the gardener and odd jobs man was within shouting distance and took me over to the kitchen where he ordered vinegar and warm water. I was very dubious about the warm water, but it did help. For the first few hours where I’d been stung was a very angry red spreading out from raise white welts. Happily it wasn’t the kind of medusa than can kill with its sting. Apparently there is one around here that necessitates a visit to the hospital. The day after I have only small red lines where Chris pulled the tentacles off me. As I write this I am looking longingly out at the beautiful Caribbean waters and thinking about swimming in the pool. The gardener said if you can’t see through the water, don’t swim in it. Good advice I think that I will take.  The next day at the tide mark we found the carcasses of a few of the little blighters. No wonder I didn’t spot them. Not only are they small, but they are also completely transparent, with just a slight blue tinge to the tentacles. In the first photo you see the side of my shoe for scale.