My first ever travel assignment was to effervescent Bohol, Philippines, a peninsula of white sand beach-ringed islands right smack in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.
One morning, I was walking by the beach at Cabilao Island when I saw a tiny crab-lobster-snail creature walking by with its light burden, a borrowed shell cracked and smoothened by time and tide. Upon closer inspection, it had a piece of seaweed clinging to one of its blunted eyes which made me think of a pirate.
I picked it up, fascinated that it was moving and I was in total control of its life. It hid inside the many swirls of its shell until its bravado overcame fear and inspected the outside world again, wondering whatever could have disturbed its lovely trek to the sea.
And there we were, face to face, daring each other to be the first to chicken out. Being bigger, I thought I had an advantage and tried to touch it; but it learned soon enough that I was scared to my knees. It grew bolder with this newfound knowledge as one of its eyes gleamed behind the pirate's eye-patch. At first, it tried to reclaim its home by yanking its shell with its claws away from my fingers.
'Arrr, it's mine, I says!'
Realizing that won't do the trick, it grabbed hold of my fingers clasped around the shell and gave it a big pinch. Startled out of my wits, I let it go; but the little monster wasn't through, it hung on to my thumb, determined to exact revenge. Trying to shake it loose was worse because its pinchers were dug deep and only served to pull the skin off my thumb.
Fortunately, a native child - of all people - came to my rescue and coaxed the source of all evil to relinquish my thumb. The child asked me if I wanted to take it home. I tried not to laugh hysterically. 'I take home a vulnerable kitty or an abandoned dog...not the pet of Lucifer!' But on second thought, I could take it home in a metal-locked cell and strap a steel muzzle and handcuffs to it, if and only if it could talk 10 languages and I could make money off it. Still lost in these mercenary thoughts, the crabby creature abandoned its shell in a desperate escape plan and in its naked glory, jumped from the child's hand. So the child bent and returned its shell, which it grudgingly pulled on like an old shirt. As if still carrying some ill will, it turned to look back at us – to cast a curse? – and finally continued its promenade out to sea. To be sure, I love crabs and lobsters - they're my favorite food - but i swear in my lifetime, I'm staying well away from them.
Or a week at the most...
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