We rowed until we got to the canal that leads to the lagoon. The dense darkness can almost be touched with the fingertips. When the eyes get used to it the silhouettes of the tree branches become visible. It's as though we've entered a tunnel. In the tranquility of the mangrove an insomniac heron caws in the distance. The shadows are sprinkled with the nocturnal chants of crickets and the always-hidden but always- presnt coquís.
Less than a minute after entering the canal I noticed as though the bottoms of the kayaks were surround by a sort of a liquid neon light undulating in the water as moved on. With the movement of each oar they turned into torches when their tips seemed to burst into shining flames as they touched the water. The shooting stars and tiny comets displacing themselves in the dark waters were small fish swimming away from the oars and leaving a track of dinoflagelates alight as they escape.
'Just wait til we get to the lagoon', the guide told me after I expressed my amazement. He hadn't finished his comment when in front of me a large liquid valley spreaded in front of me. It's surrounded by mangroves and the centennial lighthouse blinked at us from the hill where it stands.
We got to the lagoon. On its surface shone the crest of small waves formed by a gentle breeze that blew from the east, fresh and caressing.
We rowed to the center of the lagoon and, previous to the chat the guide would offer, everyone took a dip in the calmed, warm waters.
¿How can I describe the effect of our bodies on the waters as we swam in them?
When someone takes a dive the body leaves a track on the water similar to a nautical milky way. When one swims a luminous and brilliant effervescence of diminute bluish-greenish pearls miraculously occured even with the movement of one finger. The water is so dense that it's extremely easy to float on your back. With your ears submerged you can hear the crackling sound of the microorganisms as they produce the bioluminiscence. They are called dinoflagelates.
