We attended a cruisers’ pot luck at a local restaurant on Christmas day where the owner provided five 30-35lb. turkeys (approximately 165 pounds of turkey all told) for a total of some 150 cruisers in attendance. We cruisers furnished the side dishes and desserts, and although there was plenty of food for everyone, the more popular side dishes were gone by the time we got to the buffet line – things like deviled eggs and Sheilagh’s scalloped potatoes. We got there an hour early to beat the rush and found that others had been some three hours before – those who had been in attendance during previous years. Although the owner provided the turkeys free of charge, he must have made a mint on the drinks, particularly for those who came three hours early and had to keep drinking to hold their table.
After dinner Santa Claus visited and passed out some 400+ Christmas packages to the same number of local children who formed a long line outside the restaurant. They each got a bag with a major gift and several smaller ones, and as they left they would gather with their friends and compare. I saw a couple of the boys hand off the presents they got to an accomplice and go back to get a second round. I’m not sure they were successful but I admired their enterprising spirit. Actually the local parents keep a good eye out for this sort of thing to make sure everyone gets a present and no one gets more than one.
We haven’t done much this week except relax and do some shopping as the need arose. I think we both finished a couple of books and several boat tasks, but nothing to write a blog about. It occurred to me on Sunday night (the 23rd) that something was missing, that there was something urgent I needed to do. I thought about it awhile and finally concluded that throughout my entire life I was the victim of the “Sunday night syndrome.” This is not characterized only by the thought that either school or work started on Monday, but by the uneasy realization that what I had put off on Friday night to do on the weekend did not get done. So every Sunday night I had to pull out my school assignments, or later my To-Do lists, and see what absolutely had to get done before starting the weekly schedule on Monday. Now I was blessed with the knowledge that for the rest of my life the “Sunday night syndrome” no longer applied. When that thought finally settled in, I wallowed in my condition of having nothing to do to prepare for Monday and no guilt feelings about wallowing.
Last night Sheilagh and I celebrated our 38th wedding anniversary, toasting the occasion with champagne as we sat back in the cockpit of our boat and reminisced. We agreed that this was definitely the longest and best vacation we had ever had, and it was a long way from the one week I had off in the Navy to drive from Corpus Christie, Texas, to Los Altos, California, to marry Sheilagh and whisk her off to Navy housing back in Corpus Christie. Sheilagh finally admitted that the opal engagement ring I got her (in lieu of the culturally-appropriate diamond) had her concerned about the longevity of our relationship. I didn’t realize it at the time, but an opal is one of the most fragile of gemstones, when all I saw was the beauty of the stone with the vibrant colors emerging from the depths. I saw it as a reflection of the inner (and outer) beauty I saw in Sheilagh, while she saw it symbolizing my lack of commitment to a long term relationship. I hasten to add here that I had reported to the Navy with enough money to pay for my initial uniform allowance, and by the time I had asked Sheilagh to marry me 6 months later, I did not have the wherewithal to afford anything more than the opal ring – my salary in those days was $12,000 a year.
She was very gracious at the time, said “yes” to my proposal, but apparently buried her concerns about the nature of the ring for the next 38.5 years. Sheilagh now says that it was her taking very good care of the stone, and of the relationship, all these years that has allowed us to celebrate this anniversary. When I read the last paragraph to her, she retrieved the limited pieces of jewelry she brought with her on the cruise, and showed me the original engagement ring as one of her most prized possessions. Methinks she doth protest too much!
We also had a chance this week to visit the premier marina in Banderas Bay, Paradise Village, where some friends were smart enough to make reservations last April for this time frame. Tourists pay thousands of dollars a week to stay here and bask in the sun at either of the two pools or on the beach. Wherever you are, the waiters will find you and offer to bring you a drink. If you stay in the marina, you have all the benefits of the hotel guests – which amounts to about $750 a month, including wi-fi, electricity, potable water at the dock, and the pools and beach I mentioned. It’s difficult to get a better deal than that. They also have a high-end mall with employees who all speak English, and stores that sell English-language magazines and books. In a sense Paradise Village is a way to visit Mexico and not really leave the states, which is actually a soothing atmosphere to dip back into from the small village culture in which we have been cruising.
Outside of Paradise Village we are forced to consider how to say what we want, and dip into the English-Spanish dictionary to make sure we are using the proper words. This becomes a bit of a hassle, unless the native Mexican speaks some English. And there are a lot of young Mexicans who will step in and help out when they overhear what we are requesting, so we can usually communicate. I ordered two Coca Colas Dieta (Diet Cokes) and was served with two lukewarm cokes that were about three-fourths filled. When I asked for hielo (ice) the attendant went back and filled the cups to the brim – still with no ice. Apparently he hadn’t listened to what I was asking, or I was pronouncing it differently than he was used to hearing it. We ended up drinking the lukewarm cokes and chalking the experience up to more culture shock.
When I think about it, we have had minimal culture shock to deal with compared to those who did this thirty years ago. There are so many cruisers and tourists in Mexico these days, that there is always someone around who can translate, or provide understandable directions, or understand the gist of what one needs. I can’t imagine how anthropologists can handle the culture shock of going into primitive societies with absolutely no knowledge of the language and customs, and live there for years as they record the local culture. I know it’s not something I would want to do.
Our autopilot part that was shipped to us a week ago has been held up in customs in Guadalajara for the past several days for a lack of sufficient import documentation. We had reason to visit the U.S. Embassy here in Puerto Vallarta the other day, and we learned that we may be required to remove the inoperable part from the boat and take it to customs to show that we are replacing it with the new part. Our intention was to send the bad part back to the manufacturer to get it fixed; so we could use it as a backup. If we have to go through this “proof of replacement” process, we couldn’t bring in the repaired part. Other cruisers call Guadalajara the “Black Hole” for getting anything shipped into Mexico. We have now learned that we should have found a cruiser who was having visitors from the states, set up with their visitors to receive our part from the factory, and then have those visitors carry it through customs. I guess NAFTA has relaxed the requirements for travel between the U.S. and Mexico, but not for the shipping of goods between the two. But without bureaucracy how would one-sixth of the population (at least in the U.S.) have jobs – and the number may be higher in Mexico.
I close with a picture of Sheilagh basking in the warm (?) sun in her hammock perched between the mast and the staysail support. It was a little over 70° when she climbed into the hammock with her book and cuba libre, but then the sky clouded over and a wind came up, so I covered her with a quilt. It does seem a bit weird to be using a quilt over a hammock, but she was happy – and that’s what counts.
More later . . .
1 comment:
Where are you guys? Did you have a good New Years? Write another blog soon, or just an email if you want, I miss hearing from you!
Kim
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