JP/13/Bunaken

Hey dude, where's my air tank?

Learning to dive is especially memorable when you're in one of the world's top-diving spots. Writer Chris Holm takes the plunge in a PADI course at Bunaken Island's Bastianos diving resort.

Sitting on the top of the rocking boat, as we powered to where we would begin our diving course, I felt a little apprehensive. Later under a palm tree, I relaxed on the sand and looked at the course's fat instruction manual. Full of colorful, inviting pictures, diagrams and dive tables, it also looked like a lot of work.

Then there were the horror stories that inevitably bobbed to the surface of my mind after years of vicariously watching underwater adventures on the Discovery Channel, episodes of Jacques Costeau's Underwater World and sea scenes from old James Bond movies. The cold, swift undercurrents that threaten to drag you down 70 meters to your new, permanent home in Davy Joneses' locker; the equipment malfunctions that could leave you inhaling guppies rather than compressed air; those murderous, submerged Russians on your slippery tail with spear-guns; the slight coral scratches that could turn into shark banquets, and, most scarily of all, those orb-like steel decompression chambers that invite you into the agonizing world of the bends; when you surface too quickly, blow out your eardrums and your blood turns into strawberry fizz.

Looking at the PADI "the way the world learns to dive" Open Water Course Manual again, I realized that even if I managed to cheat underwater death, dismemberment, or a just general mass fish-gouging, there were still around five days of practical physical exercises, and some of them looked tricky -- a 200-meter unaided swimming test for one -- and worst of all, you had to actually learn things -- all while on holiday. Most importantly, would there be enough time to lie on the beach and drink the requisite amount of beer?

I worried, but not for long. Of course, it did help that I and my two other novice dive-buddies, one equally anxious New Zealander and his more laid-back Japanese girlfriend, were staying at a relaxing and tidy resort, Bastianos on a beautiful tropical island, which, I might add, is also renowned for boasting some of the best reef diving in the world.

The isle in question, Bunaken, is a white sandy jewel off the coast of North Sulawesi. With volcanic origins, it's undersea environment is unusual in that it lacks the normal continental plate that sits between the ocean depths and the land, creating long coral shelves that can drop a hundred meters as the ocean floor plummets to more than a kilometer undersea. These massive organisms are teaming with life; home to thousands of fish species of the expected multicolored, googly-eyed variety, along with even more unusual critters -- beak-faced giant sea turtles, malevolent-looking-but-harmless reef sharks and, of course, the blob-ish manatee, or dugong; the strange, shy sea cow that sailors of old thought were mermaids.

With all this marine life, it helps that Bunaken is also home to arguably the most successful conservation program in Indonesia. Set up in the late 1990s with local and international cooperation, the scheme has locals manage and police the marine park and has successfully stopped most of the dynamiting and over-fishing practices that were once degrading the island's tourism potential, the money made from the tourists now spread responsibly around the local community. Of course, there is development on the island, in the form of diving resorts springing up, but local rules and slow tourism here during the past few years have ensured these resorts are being managed in a reasonably sustainable manner and are not overcrowding the island -- yet.

All this augured well for a great learning experience, and I pushed my lingering doubts to the back of my mind. Who cared that I could barely swim 100 meters without fins and a wetsuit. I had done a fair bit of snorkeling before, so diving, I reasoned, couldn't be that much different.

The upbeat PADI course materials also did their best to reassure me, in between useful diving theory and their pretty underwater images. "Get informed" was the main message; learn and follow the basic undersea rules and you too can dive safely and responsibly. However, I do admit to being worried that this uniformly chirpy tone could drive me to the point of sea- sickness.

Watching the instructional videos, as we regularly did in our studies, every girl diver looks like they have just stepped out of a California gym and every guy has a big, maniacal grin, a goatie beard, along with probably a mountain bike and a spare bungy cord stashed somewhere in the back of his four-wheel-drive One of the things that PADI taught me, apart from the mechanics of scuba, is that diving is a truly marketable commodity, a world of high-fiving, black slapping, adjective-mangling, boundless enthusiasm; a lifestyle, not just a recreational sport - and be sure to buy up your own equipment from the PADI dive shop and check out the firm's other courses. Exposed to this sensory, buy- product build-up for long enough and any cynicism begins to ebb, the joie de la mer becomes infectious and you start to feel a little dizzy, something, I imagine, a bit akin to nitrogen narcosis (a deep-water danger, I must mention, you are extremely unlikely to encounter on an open water dive).

Out on the water, however, things were a lot more down-to- earth. The Bastianos crew kept their boats in good order and their equipment was clean and functioned. One of the good things about the PADI course, is that it is audited regularly by international observers. In the often cut-throat diving world where unaccredited diving schools vie for the lowest dollar by scrimping on maintenance and safety to save costs, you can rest assured that resorts offering PADI courses will be up to basic, international standards.

In the end, my biggest fear, the 200-meter swim to qualify to learn how to dive was a breeze, and after about an hour and a half of being administered oxygen on the boat I was sufficiently recovered and ready to put on the scuba equipment.

From then on, from three or four meters, down to our eventual 18 below as certified open water divers, our dive instructor Frangkie initially tried valiantly to keep with "Hey dude, where's my air-tank" vibe as-seen-on-video vibe but later became a lot more likable, and human, when he admitted to occasional bouts of grumpiness because of a lingering head-cold.

A Bunaken Island boy who had gone to the big smoke of Manado across the water to learn his craft, Frangkie did a fine job of teaching us what we needed to know and was professional and friendly about it too.

The one obvious advantage about learning to dive in a tropical lagoon rather than a swimming, is the setting, among coral reefs and little fish, which means even the most mundane exercises are a lot more interesting than in a swimming pool. It also prepares you for other things, slight currents and eddies can unbalance you, so your learning environment is much closer to what you end up discovering on your open dives when you get to practice the skills you've learned. The only downside to learning to dive at resort I can figure, is that on occasion the other more- experienced divers, who float nonchalantly past you, get to see you drown in your bubbles, flapping your arms like a spastic and rolling around in the water, as you try to master exercises like neutral buoyancy or taking off and putting on your weight-belt.

And under the water, I realized that all this outgoing body language on the surface did have a point. Diving is one of the few places in the world, like loud rock concerts and bass-heavy night clubs, where the signing deaf have a definite advantage over the hearing, and hand signals are the order of the day. The "I'm out of air, I want to share yours" signs are pretty important in the rare event that your scuba apparatus may fail, although the PADI book does not have the appropriate signage for "Hey, look behind you, there is a gi-normous groper making a beeline for your bum."

There are also no signs that can adequately describe the feeling when sliding down the side of a huge reef, you see your first giant turtle; manta ray or black-tipped reef shark, as a huge school of bat fish hang above you like a luminous diamond. In my last underwater dives, finally with the freedom to cruise in my new environment, I began to understand the rapturous looks on the faces of those PADI video jockeys. Diving, while it may not be better than sex, is certainly as good as a few beers on the beach.

HOW TO GET THERE:

Flights from Denpasar and Jakarta to Manado start from around Rp 1.5 million and run daily with Garuda and Lion Air, the two main carriers.

Most resorts on the island will transport you for free from Manado Airport to Bunaken Island.

WHERE TO STAY:

Bastianos Diving Resort is near the wharf on Bunaken Island's beach is clean and large with nice rooms, some of which are right on the beachfront. Accommodation starts from around US$15 dollars a night if you are on a diving package, $20 if you are just soaking up the island's ambience. Five-day PADI Open Water Diving Courses begin at about $315. And the resort offers more advanced courses and a range of open water dives including night dives, wreck and muck diving.