Popcorn burns retina

Val with tiger shark

I was secretly glad and selfishly anticipating a proper night's rest when my French-Canadian roommate flew back to Florida with a medical emergency.

Val arrived at the Sharklab with allergies the three dogs further aggravated, asthma the humidity made worse and bronchitis, its accompanying cough ricocheting off our thin-walled 2.5 meter by five meter room that ensured a wake-up call two hours before I was required to be at the multi-national breakfast table.

When not hacking up parts of her respiratory system at 1,3,4 and again at 6 AM, I really enjoyed being around her. In the two weeks she was here, we shared our mutual deep love of the boreal, the wonder of the sea and our longing for Canadian bacon. Collectively, the lab's volunteers and staff entertained her notion that a microwave could be brought on board to pop popcorn if a sufficient number of extension cords were found.

"Just don't get them caught in the prop," fellow Canadian and lab co-manager Sean cautioned straight faced.

Later that week, after popping a bag of popcorn in the kitchen to take on the boat for the day, Val excitedly opened the steaming bag, her right eye on a kernel's steam-propelled projection path. A trip to the bravely staffed and inadequately supplied clinic confirmed her greatest fear - that she'd have to leave the Sharklab and seek medical attention back in Florida.

She flew out the next morning and had surgery to repair the burned area of her eye. Val emailed a few days after assuring everyone at the lab that she was going to recover, but likely would not be returning.

Faking a good day in the rain

I knew we had missed our bus stop when the Catholic church offering bingo on Thursdays four blocks north of our hostel appeared on the left. "Maybe we should ask the driver," my Swiss travel companion for the day suggested as I pulled the cord. "We just passed it," I replied. We ducked into the January rain and ran the six blocks home.

Lucy, a 60-year-old Quebecois woman I had met the day before, rounded up another Quebecois woman, Julie, Raphaela from Switzerland and myself for a midday stroll. In the rain.

Decked out like a walking advertisement for MEC's foul weather line, I trudged into the Fort Lauderdale rain with my new companions.

Las Olas Blvd. was our destination. Lucy and Julie never made it, turning back approximately one sixth of the 4.7 mile journey. What motivated Raphaela and I is still a great mystery. Two women travelling on their own was our only obvious common thread. Lack of anything else to do on an uncharistically cold and rainy Saturday in south Florida might have been another.

We valiantly faked a good day in the rain and lunched in a warm, cozy bakery, ducked into cute shops to look for a belt that was not packed and visited the cinema and watched "It's Complicated." In its simplest and soggiest form, we rejoiced in the thrill of travelling by enjoying a foreigner's company and exploring a new city.

Walk-on Fins

The end of my formal - for now - academic career is in sight. This time next month, all my papers will be passed in and all my final exams will be written.

I bought my ticket to Florida last weekend. That means may trip is actually for real. I spend 10 days in Florida before flying to Bimini Island, my home for three months.

Thanks to previous international travels, I don't need to buy a whole lot of new swag. Thanks to the miracle of online shopping, I have some new bomb-proof Teva sandals and a new pair of Merrel "multis". Multis are shoes that do multiple things for you. Dance on tables, wade waist deep through a raging river, trek into British Columbia's alpine, go to interviews.

All I am lacking is a wetsuit, fins, mask and snorkel set and a waterproof flashlight. I'll buy those in Florida. Shockingly, Edmonton's selection in the winter is rather limited and unnecessarily expensive.

I'm very curious how I'm going to fit fins into my bag. I might be wearing them on the plane. Yes, wearing.

Until then, I am wearing a toque. In Canada. Brrrr.