Aquarium soundtracks

Today Cleo, L.'s parents (visiting us in South Africa for 12 days) and I went to see the Two Oceans aquarium, which has become one of my favorite child-friendly spots in Kaapstad. Or, rather, three of us went to see the aquarium - for Cleo fell asleep minutes before we entered, and snoozed in her stroller for more than an hour as her grandparents looked about and I sat vigil, near the excellent two-story glass wall that fronts the predators exhibit.

That quiet hour was deeply pleasant, as it gave me a chance to look closely at several animals whose forms I'd previously noted in passing, but had never studied with any real patience. The whispering wings of the rays; the graceful arc of underbelliers of mid-sized fish; the dull, remote eyes of the ragged-toothed sharks. At the same time, I also had a chance to observe the ebb and flow of the museum space itself: the lull between groups and the delighted shrieks - joy in terror viewed from safety - of children gaining their first glimpse of the sharks.

And underneath that varied hubbub, a further soundtrack: a slow, ethereal, regal, and spectral composition played over the speakers, as an accompaniment to the organic circles described by the fish as they swam. That rang a bell, for the Baltimore aquarium also plays such music - New Age music, at root - in their largest display space. And you can see why, rather easily: it fits the bouyant, stately rises and falls of the school about you. Moreover, it seems to suit toddlers as they sleep: Cleo snored on, the music around her.

Just before she awoke, though, we happened to see something completely unexpected. One of the sharks - who are fed once a week, and are allegedly sated for the other six days - suddenly turned abruptly on axis and crashed its jaws about a 30-inch Cape Yellowtail. In less than a second, the back third of the fish was simply gone, and the Yellowtail began to sink, even as it tried - still momentarily alive - to swim, to the bottom of the tank. In vain: soon the shark had reappeared, and it took the rest of the fish in its mouth, slowly swallowing it while still circling the tank, to the delight of a gaggle of preteen boys.

What soundtrack could accommodate both the peace that preceded, and the violence that had occurred? Whatever it would be, I can't recommend it - if only because I sense that it certainly would have woken up the one spectator in the room who slept through the whole affair.