sanaquarium

I am not a "why" person. I'm not. I know, I know, I am leaving the most important question in life out of my daily dance with it, but I could care less. I have spent too much time wondering about the "why" of things and I have missed out on the "now" of it. So I no longer think about the why of things. It's easy to miss the moment if you spend your time thinking about the why something is happening or why something "is". I don't ask why the caged bird sings. If I did ask, I would miss the song. I can figure out the "why" later. I want to hear that warbler, warble.

With that in mind, I have come to Monterey. Home of a very special fish zoo. For a mere 21.95, you can view the fish, and other creatures of the sea, in state of the art fish tanks that have more space in them most people have in their homes. These tanks are huuuuuge. They are pretty. And they are designed to make you feel like you are underwater.

When I got here, I planned on going to see the famous Monterey Aquarium because I was caught up in the hype and felt that I needed to see it or I would hate myself for the rest of my life for passing up the chance. When I got here, that hype wore off. In a huff, I decided that I would boycott the aquarium because I didn't want to be a conformist. It wouldn't be punk rock to go to a fish prison. I came up with all kinds of reasons not to go; It's wrong to keep animals in captivity. I don't like fish. The fish don't give you lap dances. I was fine with my new frame of mind.

I was walking down by the bay with the ocean filled with free range fish just a few feet away, and it was free. I didn't have to pay a dime. I felt smarter than the freaks that ran that Gulag. But the more I walked, the more the ocean talked to me. That strange fish perfume was blowing past my nose and I couldn't get fish out of my head.

So I went to the damn aquarium. Not very punk rock, but some of the fish looked pretty punk, so it balanced out.

It's quite a show. It was very, very educational. If you haven't seen what shrimp look like when they are happy, then you're better off. It's best to think of shrimp as scampi, and not as living creatures. It's not that I care if we eat living creatures, that's not the reason. It's that shrimp live in a soup that looks a lot like split pea - they go crazy in it. They love it. And it makes everyone who loves shrimp with cocktail sauce incredibly ill, which is secretly what the owners of this joint want to happen. Those damn animal lovers are using fish zoos to make a point. DON'T EAT YOUR ANIMAL FRIENDS! Everyone who saw the shrimp, made the "eeeckk" noise as they looked at it.

There are sharks, other fish, some more fish. Fish that look like cats. Fish that look like monkeys. Fish that look like dogs. Fish that are flat. Fish that are fat. There were snake fish. Fish, fish, fish, fish and more fish... In large tanks of water. It was quite a sight. There is also a petting zoo, which is almost like a lap dance, but not quite. But strippers won't let you touch them this way, so it's a trade off.

It took a wee bit over an hour to see it all. It was exactly what I knew it was going to be and I am kicking myself for doing it. I was cursing my decision as I walked out the door and I didn't notice that I walked straight into Cannery Row. This isn't the same Cannery Row of Steinbeck fame because it doesn't really hold the same feel as Steinbeck's Cannery Row. There are no bums, no poverty, no labs. Just kitch stores with over priced clothes for rich women, post cards, Christmas ornaments, a Thomas Kincaid art gallery, fudge shops, a starbucks and restaurants... 50 of them. Every single one of them... Seafood. That's right. You walk out of the aquarium - the last bastion of fish rights in America, straight into the greedy arms of buildings, stacked on buildings, next to buildings, filled with fried, boiling, battered and filleted servings of what you just saw swimming around. I wasn't angry very long. Suddenly the shrimp-split pea soup looked appetizing, and there were 50 places calling out to me to get a bowl for nine bucks. It's a far cry from Steinbeck's ode to poverty on the seashore, but you can pretend that the shrimp/split pea soup is being served at a soup kitchen as "lasagna".

I don't ask why. I don't. I don't ask why things are the way they are, I just appreciate and enjoy the experience. View fish - twenty dollars. Eat fish - twenty dollars. Walk along the beach and look at free fish - free.

I had halibut.