The Aquarium Epic!
It was my sister's birthday, and winter had decided to halt its dreary weather for a second so that we could make the long trek down to Denver to celebrate. She had requested the aquarium this year, and we had all piled into the car to have an adventure. The moment I walked into the building the smell of salt and algae invaded my nostrils. In spite of the fact that I have only been to the beach once in my life at a time when I was too young to know I should try to form a memory, the smell was familiar. Primordial almost. Welcoming in a strange, watery way. We made our way through the crowd and into the dim light where shadows and bright cast a blue tone over everything. The air was slightly more humid here, and the pattern of undulating shadows made it seem as if I were in an underwater cavern. I lined up with the other visitors travelling through the narrow corridors full of aquatic life to stare at the wondrous variety of life, alien and representative of the best the Earth has to offer at the same moment. The colors, the graceful gliding of the fish, the undulation of the water all lulled me into a state of tranquility. The best part of the aquarium was, of course the tank tunnel , where the ceiling and walls were clear glass, and we could walk among the fish as they swam above and around us. We saw skates and rays and eels and turtles and sharks flashing their teeth and exposing their white underbellies in a ballet of motion. My sister squealed as the sharks loomed, seized by an irrational, but understandable fear, as the large creatures cast their shadows over her.
This particular aquarium has the distinction of incorporating large land animals into their exhibits. So, when I came to a fork in the road, the light shifted and changed, losing its blue otherwordly glow, so that it suddenly seemed dingy. It took a moment for us to adjust, staring at the empty habitats where tigers and otters should be. The fact that the animals were absent, their need for sleep so different from the restless moments of the ocean dwellers, further heightened the sense that we had crossed an impossible boundary. The small tree frogs and snakes glittered like gems, hidden in the somber greens and browns of their enclosures. We played hide and seek as I strained to make out some of the hidden animals, thrilled eat time a new animal would suddenly come into focus.
By the end of the tour, we were all, strangely enough, exhausted as though we truly had been on an arduous trek to another world. We walked out into the last area, the feeding pool, where my sister eagerly offered shrimp to the milling rays and skates. Sound echoed here, and the throngs of people felt oppressive, wrong somehow, after the stillness of the rainforest and the deep blue sea.
This particular aquarium has the distinction of incorporating large land animals into their exhibits. So, when I came to a fork in the road, the light shifted and changed, losing its blue otherwordly glow, so that it suddenly seemed dingy. It took a moment for us to adjust, staring at the empty habitats where tigers and otters should be. The fact that the animals were absent, their need for sleep so different from the restless moments of the ocean dwellers, further heightened the sense that we had crossed an impossible boundary. The small tree frogs and snakes glittered like gems, hidden in the somber greens and browns of their enclosures. We played hide and seek as I strained to make out some of the hidden animals, thrilled eat time a new animal would suddenly come into focus.
By the end of the tour, we were all, strangely enough, exhausted as though we truly had been on an arduous trek to another world. We walked out into the last area, the feeding pool, where my sister eagerly offered shrimp to the milling rays and skates. Sound echoed here, and the throngs of people felt oppressive, wrong somehow, after the stillness of the rainforest and the deep blue sea.