Big Sweet Tooth

If I Had a Pony, I'd Ride it on My Boat

Night one on my Carib sailing excursion, some delicious pasta was served up for dinner.  Steaming hot noodles and spicy red sauce with a little dash of rum on the side.  It's funny when you come together with strangers - if you're in tune with the world, you can pick up on the vibe minute 1.  I picked up on it second 1. 

Tall tales from a surly captain, a first mate who'd just about had enough of the boating life, and an anxious deckhand ready to bolt come sunlight.  The three personalities were meshing together on a sailing vessel like oil and water.  Crazy people, but good hearts.  You pretty much have to own a touch of crazy to put your life at risk on a sailboat every single day.  It's addictive.  That feeling of immense freedom around every bend.  That taste of escape every single morning.

Every day, I check in on my own boat and all the various projects she's got going - right now, it's a little something called brightwork.  Which means all kinds of non-stop sanding and varnishing going on.  My guy whose rockin' the project, well he must LOATHE my boat right about now.  Waiting on good weather only adds to the prolonged sked. and my very own level of insanity -- But, man the teak will be all glassy and beautiful once done.  Incred.

Check out young Tim in the below photo - can't you just see the NEED to get the hell off the boat?  He was so ready after 6 weeks in close company cruising the Carib.  Just to straight dash at first light.  Then, it was just me and them.  Man.  Hard times for a loner like moi.  But, the best of times in retrospect.  As it always is -- betcha after a few days back on land, sweet Tim wish he was back on the boat.  Preach.

If you could listen to a song to this post, make it The Holmes Brothers singing "If I Had a Boat" - you will get my current vibe stat.  Thanks Budro.

"But Tonto he was smarter, one day said Kimosabe...Kiss my ass, I bought a boat, I'm goin' out to sea."

My Man Nestle - He Glows

Yup, met this one a street corner in St. Lucia.  He went by Nestle and he just quietly worked in his little ramshackle homemade shoe shop while the whole world swirled around him in a tangle of honking, whistling, cackling and badgering. 

I just happened to be strolling by with a delicious smelling coconut incense in hand and stopped "in" for a chat.  He filled me in on the big music festival that was coming to town - while I just gazed at his mouthful of non-teeth and was happy.  Nice compact shop.  A mess of business.  Sharing with a pedestrian.  We're all just lookin' to live a little good life.

Simple girl.  And, I really like the name Nestle.

St. Lucia + Cabbies + Shacks Full of Good Food

Should I just re-title this 'lil blog - "I Woke Up Thinking..." and insert the days big thought?  Seems I fade out to sleep every night and live a full movie in my dreams, wake up with my brow furrowed and thinking the next big event of my MST life.  Every day, it changes.  Every day, I go 2 steps back and 3 steps forward. 

Revisit a magical memory, question my purpose on this crazy planet, devise a new escape scheme, plot a new adventure - it's these little things that make up my daily being.  Just when I think this life is too much to even handle or that I don't want to be on the road any longer and JUST WANT TO BE NORMAL, I'm hit with a vibe from a complete stranger that just brings life full circle.

Take my cabbie in St. Lucia.  He picked me up on my last day there to haul me to the airport and we got to talking about astrology and life and all that jazz.  Once he heard that I'd not scarfed any good food while on my journey, he promptly took me to a local joint.  It was maybe the first minute I'd relaxed in a spell - just sippin' a beer, snappin' photos and waiting on him to order us some food from a tiny, jam-packed window.  What a novel concept - someone to take care of me for once.  It was literally the EXACT type of eating establishment I seek out all around the world, and he just knew I'd fit right in.

We jumped back in his ride and he shot up the highest hill he could find, all the while spilling details about his lovely island.  He just wanted me to eat my fish in peace and get a good view of his home.  I blissfully enjoyed  dorado, lentils,  slaw and lemonade while he shared his life story.  Mmmmmm, good stuff...with a view.  Toss in a cuba libre (on him) and life was all simpatico for a second.

And, crazy - he bought lunch, charged me nothing for the hour tour and was just so happy that I'd taken interest in his life.  Who does that, I ask you?  People are just good.  They just want to share and be happy and live a good little life.

Isn't that what it's all about?  Why the furrowed brow in the AM?  Forget the crazy dreams and just be.  Better done in the company of Miley and Party in the USA.  Which my pal Jamie ain't that into - however, me and my bud Chez kill it.

Memories like that are what will comfort me in my olden years, that I can promise you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Indo via St. Lucia via Sailboat

After merrily hopping off the schooner that is SV Illusion, my last day in St. Lucia was spent slamming cup after cup of delicious cafe au lait at a super-cute island bar and re-writing my life.  You know, thinking things like - how in God's name do I blow through so much dinero?  How can I go months without working yet live better than ever?  Just me - alone - questioning the reality of my existence.

However, unless I do the trips like these, or spend the money like that, how will I ever know what my future holds?  Big sailing adventures, wild Indo NGO  setups, revamping of old sailboat, couple of trips to Mexico...right...without all of those things tickered off the to do list, then where would I be?  Sitting with a little more cash in the bank, but what if I died tomorrow?  At least I lived a minute.

So morbid, this AM.  But, not really - it's just the ultimate convince that I'm doing the right thing.  Always the right thing.  And, as I was sitting there in this balmy little coffee shop, I started reading a magazine I'd hauled with me the entire trip but not opened- and I pop onto a picture of Mt. Rinjani.  Which as you may know is the volcano I trekked last year in Indonesia and of which 4th World Love sits at the base of.  I was immediately transported back to my journey up that beast, and all my laughs with my buds in the village of Sembalun. 

I love travel.  Trying new stuff.  Living life.  And, I guess spending money to do it all.

 

After Dominica Comes Martinique

We woke up at the crack of 3:30 am so we could be making way by about 4.  Talk about sheer panic.  Reminded me of production.  All sorts of little things to do before plowing out into the early AM ocean.  First, stare at stars.  Oh, that's after a steaming cup of coffee.  Stars are real, real bright in the Carib - reach out and grab 'em bright.  And, it is quiet like a cemetery.  I loved that part of it all.  A bit of silence, finally.

The weather was perfect, and after yet another night of no sleep, I was stunned I had so much energy - just delicious with it.  It was wild, I've never been one to really nap - I wake up all scared and confused.  However, on the boat, I just passed right out at a moments notice - any spot.  And, would be wide awake 4 minutes later thinking I'd slept a whole night.  Bizarre.  Also learned to sleep on my back, which I NEVER do.  Again, wake up scared, like I'm in a coffin and being smothered.  

I took this trip to test myself - to see if I had what it takes to BE OUT OF SIGHT OF LAND.  That was the biggie for me.  What happens internally when there is no land anywhere within my field of vision?  It was straight up amazing.  No fear.  No sea sickness.  Nada.  All if did was make me get back to my own boat and pull a full freak out - realizing that all the dinero being dropped is all worth it - and then some...good to know.   Gotta say, though, when I laid eyes on Martinique, the joy came rushing in.  All we could talk about was a cafe au lait and some place civilized.  An omelette for me, please...

I gotta go figure these things out you see...or else, ya never know...

 

 

 

 

 

And Den Der Was Dominica

I arrived by plane to Dominica, but I left by sailboat.  Neat.  Very  neat.  I like that kind of travel - in and out and all a little on the sly (it feels).  I've wanted to hit Dominica forever - ever since I saw a cute cottage there a few years back that was for sale...and almost prompted me to sell all and move there.  Just based on the pictures alone.  So, this little island was a perfect starting point for me to venture out from via sailing vessel.  Another potential place to die in off the list, I say.

The wind is different in Dominica - cool/balmy wind, full of mystery.  And, the whole island looks just like all my fave places in Indo - which made me incredibly happy upon arrival.  Green, lush, overgrown with wildlife.  Of course my cabbie gave me a history of the whole island and we had to make a few pitstops on the way for him to grab some giant flowers for his wife (they just grow wild everywhere and he gets her some once a week from one of the hill villages) and drop a few of his work buddies off.  I swear, I could ride in cabs all day and really think my travel would be taken to a whole new localized level.

I met up with the good Captain Norman and his woman Alison at a small bar in Roseau...they were having beers with a young British lad name Tim.  That one was leaving the next morning and I could feel his sheer delight in being hours away from hopping off the boat (6 weeks is a long time, eh)?  We slammed a few, caught up on the plan and headed over to the boat, via skiff.  Massive 1-ton, fume-spitting skiff...no dink for this couple.

Funny to think how people come together in the world.  You just meet up on the road somewhere and before you know it, you're discussing plans, ideas, projects, histories, dreams, fears.  It's like there are no barriers or walls - you can just be free and open and flow. 

Next day, I was off exploring, while they were provisioning and checking emails...let's just say there was a lot of hootin' and hollerin' going on since I was a single chick cruising alone.  But underneath the catcalls was a genuine want to connect.  A hiss, then a hearty laugh.  Jarring.  I'm flipping coins left and right to pay for my rice and peas and a drinker at the bar corrects my math, seems I'd overpaid.  Thx - very generous.  Kindness is in everyone, I think, you just gotta make a mistake in front of them and their desire to help comes out in spades.  Refreshing.  I buy an little perfume in the incense store, the owner calls me back in to give me some free incense "cause she likes my shirt and I'm a very nice person."  What goes around, comes right back at cha...

 

 

 

 

 

Would This Old San Juan Balcony Not Make You Happy?

Old San Juan is flush with elegant balconies such as this.  All bursting with flowers and life and growth.  Each one made me incredibly content - like if I had that balcony, I could really get some things done.  

This particular ledge was just around the corner from the super-cool Casablanca Hotel that my bud Julie told me about - real hard to leave that little gem.  I was way up on the 4th floor, but loved the view - spread eagle over all of the rooftops of the city.  Reminded me of when I did an apartment switch with a couple in Barcelona. They lived in a tiny pad in Barceloneta with the most killer balcony and I spent a month there just killin' time, eating fresh seafood and reading about the tsunami online. 

Casablanca is pretty cheap for OSJ and has the most peaceful vibe to it (not to mention amazing art work)...plus its within walking distance of loads of cool little bars, restaurants and the water.  Best part is its proximity to Moreno's, a dive bar just around the corner.  He's opening a restaurant upstairs soon that's gonna sport cheap (yet sophisticated) Puerto Rican food...all with a view of that said balcony. 

One could lead a good life there.  And, guess I didn't know you don't need a passport to roll to Puerto Rico.  US Cash is king.  Shows you what kind of research I do before hitting the road.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Old San Juan and A Mess of Memories

Here's the thing about travel.  It ends so quickly.  You get back to where you came from and you try to recollect all those once-in-a-lifetime scenarios and it's hard...next to impossible.  The attempt at memory breaks ya down to a mere moment in time - thinking/searching/remembering WHAT REALLY HAPPENED?

At least that's what happens to me.  I'm trying to look back on my first pit stop from my latest jaunt - Puerto Rico - and what do I have.  A few late-night drinks with a couple of nutcases; witnessing a great restaurant in the making; some crazy Chinese food while it poured warm rain; beer for breakfast; fearless attempts at Spanish; a moon so big it took my breath away; those gorgeous, free-thinking Dominican's; a chirpy Moroccan chef wanting to cook a feast for me; a thousand beautiful smiles; a will to move and move quickly.

In these moments there is intense beauty.  In the aftermath, they're even richer because I will never get them back.  Once - that's how often they happen.  Just like life.  My thought of the day?  Don't fret the madness of life - you'll be gone soon enough.

 

 

 

 

 

It's Not the Swells, it's the Size of the Sea...

Soon, I will be back on-grid, diving straight into the depths of life/work/and the constant struggle to organize my existence.  In the meantime, I'm gonna toss up a few posts about what I learned while on a boat in the Carib.  Just some quickies.

1.  This wall of water you see was viewed off the bow of a 75' schooner that was in transit from the lush island of Dominica to the funky French island of Martinique.  It was stunning and rolling and impressive and breathtaking all mashed into one.  The fear I thought I was gonna have being not within sight of land didn't exist and the peace I felt was tremendous.  Like I'd been waiting my whole life for just that moment.

2.  I'm not super keen on the Carib.  I know millions love these islands, but I'm just not the one to drop $25 bones on a plate of food on a tropical island.  Esp. when I know I can get it in Indo for $3.  But, better.

3.  I whole-heartedly believe in AC on a sailboat. Yes, yes I do.

4.  How far will I have to travel to find silence?  Seriously?  It's not in the little coves in the Carib, cause you know what?  Round about 10pm, a party boat pulls in and booms out tunes with a base that just don't stop til about 6 am.  Hellish.  Sleep deprivation for days and days....

5.  I love sailboats, quiet water, rum, sunrises, night sailing, sunsets, wind tunnels created out of sheets wrapped around me cause I slept on deck, roast potatoes on a boat, going barefoot, sudden squalls, tidiness, snorkeling with sea turtles, random taxi drivers who want to show me their islands, breadfruit, dorado, Carib beers, a good cup of steaming coffee, French omelette's, sea showers, sleeping under shooting stars, my $11 rain jacket, lentil soup, and a good scary book. 

The Virgin Islands: Funny How Some Places Don't Even Make a Dent...

As I sit here sipping a Sapporo (yes, I now drink 3rd World imports), I'm scanning through some old photos and realize that I never even posted about my trip to the Carib.  Why not?  I've been talking about Indonesia for what seems like eons and still haven't even touched the surface of what all I did and saw. 

Why not talk about my excursion to St. John and Tortola?  I spent four days there  immediately before taking off to Indo, and did all the things one does on a sunny island, usually with great flair.  I drank copious amounts of rum; I experienced some of the best snorkeling of my life; I stayed in an oceanside eco-camp; I got a fierce tan; I perused many used sailboats. 

So, what happened? 

Seems that the Virgin Islands are an offshoot of America.  Sure they're pretty.  Stunning even.  But, there was no soul.  Not an ounce.  The locals felt angry, paranoid.   The white faces buying crappy souvenirs dominated the landscape.  The food was horrifying.  And the overall vibe was just straight negative.  I felt like every person I encountered couldn't wait to leave.  And, and, and.....the PRICES WERE IDENTICAL (IF NOT MORE) that what you find in the US. 

When I got off the ferry in St. John, I was already two frosty rum drinks down and hunting for more before I headed into the wilds of the interior looking for Maho Bay (my green hotel).  I ended up at a little bar/restaurant  shooting the breeze with a couple of old geezers who were buying me drinks left and right.  In a moment of happy delirium, I shared my upcoming Indo trip with them and the look of horror and confusion that crossed their faces made me stop speaking.  After quizzing me on where Indonesia was, one bellowed, "What the hell would you wanna go there for?  There ain't any Americans!"

Do you see what I'm saying?  Do you get where I'm going with this?  The bottom line is, the Virgin Islands are overrated, overpriced and depressing. Pretty place, though...very pretty place.

The truth...by Misty