Zama



The first time Merle saw them he never thought he'd jump in with them.  He had taken a short break in between buffet prep for the tour,

this his first executive chef job away from the Sweet Shack up in Florida, and was sitting on the catamaran net bent over the side dipping only half a finger

into the blue watercolor water. The catamaran was now five minutes off the shore of Porto Aventuras, Playa del Carmen on the way to the beachfront Mayan ruins at Tulum, what the local Mayans called Zama, or the magical 'City of Dawn,' because it faces the sunrise.

There were at least seventy of them swimming fifty yards from the boat in what looked like a pod, enormous shadows seemingly barely moving in the distance. Two or three others swam right along the great hull of the 70 foot catamaran. He could see the brown tinted,

almost leopard skin glisten just under the surface, the dorsal and back fin waving back and forth as if mechanically.  He had only seen large fresh water fish in the shallows before, a much more manageable size for the human eye to comprehend.  A creature twenty tons and 40 feet long looked more like a partnering boat.  The whale shark was the largest known species of fish on earth, and here,

along the Mayan Riviera, they swam as if to enjoy a vacation themselves and the occasional feeding.  Two boys jumped in with snorkel gear and paddled over the slow moving mass of the shark whales as if it were nothing more than a casual swim.  One boy hooked his hand over the dorsal fin and was slowly dragged along the surface, his body a small tan speck compared to the shark.  Something came over Merle – he was a bold chef, but held a deep fear of open water, an even deeper fear of creatures lurking below, let alone ones as large as the boat itself – but he slipped on goggles and let himself ease in over the side of the boat.  Toward shore, once at eye level with the surface, he could see a sea turtle rise to the surface, the waves pushing and pulling

as if it were nothing more than a lost fishing bobber. Merle swam directly over the hull of the whale shark.  It was shaped something like a small airplane.  It's skin was cool to the touch, a wet thick leather, yet he could feel it move barely as if it were a giant muscle, bending gently at creases for propulsion.  Where his back drew up over the surface he could feel the hot rays of Mayan sunshine.
It was unusual, he knew, but the sun and the shark and the blue salt water made him think of the taste of his dishes to come.