All morning I've been kicking through light green seas. Gliding over coral that looks like a child's art project. A strange collection of bowls and scoops. Dimpled fuzzy teddy bear legs, sticks and reindeer antlers. Littering the ocean floor they've been splattered with neon greens, blues and tangerine. In my hand I clutch a 6 foot pole with a wicked looking hook at it's end. I've been searching for dark holes to cram my pole into and it is my fondest wish to see a long tentacle snake out from one of these holes and wrap about my spear.
South of Okinawa lies one of Japan's finest diving spots, Ishigaki Island. Today I'm in search of a free lunch. But after an hour I realize I'm not looking for holes but staring dreamily at Clownfish playing hide and seek in the soft tubes of an anemone. So much for my free lunch.
Fortunately I'm not alone. Returning to the beach I find another member of our group proudly holding out her spear with an Octopus perched on the tip. Everyone scrambles to the dense jungle to collect wood and we build a fire beside the dark volcanic rocks that jut from the sand.
On dry land the poor creature has all the form of a limp bag of water. But once placed atop the burning tinder his tentacles curl up and he seems to be bobbing along in a sea of fire.
Our kitchen on the beach has everything necessary for a fine feast. Once the octopus has been broiled to perfection we return it to the sea to wash off the dark soot. Squatting on the beach under the warm noonday sun I hum a little and tug on the chewy meat. The touch of salt gives a little bite to the mellow smokey taste. I smile at the chef and imagine the perfect compliment, a frosty draft beer in my hand.
Mata ne (see you again)
- Greg Greunke
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