A few weeks back we took a trip to Dolphin Island in Central Province so Lou could do some diving and so we could get the kids in the water with some dolphins. There is a dolphin enclosure there, where they catch them and pen them in close to shore, ready to be exported to resorts in Dubai. Anyway they let you visit and the kiddies can feed a real live dolphin with a real dead fish. It’s politically rather dubious, but not a bad day out, we were told.
I was anticipating putting up a series of shots of our delighted children with a fish in each hand, imagining that the obliging dolphins would leap acrobatically out of the water just as I pressed ‘shoot.’ In fact the dolphin feeding bit was a tad ordinary, involving little more than throwing dead mackerel into a rather small pool of cloudy water and watching a few bored, overfed dolphins poking away at it with evident disinterest. Erin couldn’t even be bothered doing it.
The real fun of the island was exploring it. It was a Japanese war base in the 40s, was abandoned in the 50s but has had several attempt to resettle it before the current dolphin operation was established. Consequently it has a variety of ruins and dilapidated infrastructure and would make a great set for an episode of LOST or any one of those other Jungle Island TV shows or movies where people meddle with forces they cannot possibly comprehend, etc. I love that.
So me and Louise stalked moodily about saying: “we must not let the visitors see…the experimental compound”, and “What about…the banished ones?” and so on. It was a good day out, but not really for the reasons they say in the brochure.