By Carrie Honaker
Forty-eight feet down, looking up from the sandy ocean !oor
where the JabJabs — a once floating bar, now artifcial reef,
lists starboard — I’m surrounded by life. Moray eels, lobsters,
rays, and two juvenile reef sharks swim in the cerulean
waters around me. The sharks are close enough to touch with
my camera mount and more curious than adults that haven’t
learned fear.
Life has been on repeat since landing, waking early for some
mango and johnnycake, watching the sun come up over the
ocean, assembling dive gear, boating out to one of the many
wrecks or reefs o# the waters of Sint Maarten, (also known
as Saint Martin) making my way down the line from the
mooring ball to the vibrant world under the sea.
The 37-square-mile island, home to two countries, is
friendly, above and below the water. Smiles are abundant,
words of welcome "ll the air, life is peaceful. The only
marking of a division between French and Dutch territories
is a monument on the roadside.
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