Reefs and Mantas aka Komodo is a Dream

Yes, we went back for more, and it was even more amazing than the first time. I am becoming concerned that the girls have a completely skewed view of how life should unfold. On second thought, maybe not.

(Actually stories coming. For now, enjoy the photos.)

Slowly Waking Up

What is this delicious piece of gorgeousness? A blocked toilet hose? I don't know about you, but this puts me in mind of arterial plaques and makes me want to treat my circulatory system with gentle kindness.

More importantly, does this mean that things are afoot aboard the Good Ship Papillon? Indeed it does! Erik is tearing through our to-do list like a lion taking down a zebra. The girls and I are waiting out the worst of the destruction from afar. If all goes well, the four of us will move back into our floating home in another month, and this blog will emerge from hibernation.

Until then, dear readers.

Good morning!

We Dig Dig Dig Dig Dig Dig In Our Mine The Whole Day Through

Snow White and the Seven Dwarves isn't one of my favorite Disney movies. I am going to generously describe the heroine as "insipid" and leave it at that. But the film does have a few snappy tunes, among them the first half of Heigh Ho. Oh, you didn't know the beginning was a completely different (and superior) song? Before all of that boring whistling, the dwarves sing about working in their mine. To wit:

We dig dig dig dig dig dig dig
In our mine the whole day through
To dig dig dig dig dig dig dig
Is what we like to do

It ain't no trick to get rich quick
If you dig dig dig with a shovel or a pick
In a mine! In a mine! In a mine! In a mine!
Where a million diamonds shine!

We dig dig dig dig dig dig dig
From early morn till night
We dig dig dig dig dig dig dig up
Everything in sight

We dig up diamonds by the score
A thousand rubies, sometimes more
But we don't know what we dig them for
We dig dig dig a-dig dig.

Back in the day, preschool-Stylish immediately took to this song, and we both learned the words. Don't ask me why, but we used to sing it in the car as we drove around on errands. This was long before Erik got into mining, so I am going to claim that we were prescient. Perhaps this was the clairvoyant version of, "if you can't beat'em, join 'em."

Treasures at the Beach

There was a time in my life when a visit to the beach was as rare and exciting as Christmas. Once in a blue moon my parents would hook the pop-up trailer to the back of the Big Red Van, and we would trundle off to Southampton. It didn't matter if the water was cold, we didn't care if the sky was grey. We were at the beach! Seashells! Sand castles! Bathing suits 24/7, baby! Peeling shoulders, new friends from exotic locales such as Sarnia and Guelph, and hair full of sand. It was about as good as life gets.

For my kids, excitement is seeing a squirrel in Grannie and Poppa's backyard. "Oh! Oh! Mom! Did you see that? Quick, look - it's a squirrel! Oh my gosh, can I go outside and see it? I hope it doesn't run away!" There's no doubt they love the beach, but there is no mystery there. Try to entice them with a stretch of sand and the promise of some fish in the water, and all you'll get is a look that says, "Okay, okay, don't hurt yourself. It's just the beach."

At Home in Papua New Guinea

I´ve unpacked the bags and stowed the suitcases. No more waiting around for visas, no more airplane rides - we´re home now, and I plan to be sessile for the foreseeable future. The island is beautiful, our neighbours are friendly, and I have no reason to move off my porch.

Except, a troop of kids are marching up my driveway. And we´ve been invited to the pool. And a barbecue. Disco in the park. Movies, neighborhood-wide hide-and-seek... complete fun overload. I think I need another cup of tea.

Tuesday Turtle Break

We have visitors aboard, and boy, have they gotten a look at the sweet side of cruising life.  Perfect weather, good winds, reefs, fish, sharks, sea snakes... the good ship Papillon has been a walking advertisement for chucking it all and setting out to sea.

And what happened five minutes ago?  Two huge turtles swam by.

Falling In Love

It's that time of a year when a young woman's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.  By that I mean I just had to pay the boat insurance.  And what says love like transfering risk to a third party?

We met Papillon in the usual way: in Panama, on a blind date.  Sure, we had seen some pictures, like the one above, but since that photo was taken before I was born, we didn't want to get too excited too early.

Our broker had been talking her up for months.  "She's a great girl.  You'll love her."  But the boat was far away, it wasn't the cabin layout we wanted... there were a hundred reasons to look at other boats first.  And we did.  Boat after boat after boat.  But the chemistry was never there.

One Year On

Home, sweet home.

Can it be true?  The Papillon crew has been living aboard for one full year.  And no one has murdered anyone else!  We've done so many things and visited so many places, it is hard even to remember those early days: adjusting to 15.5 square feet of floor space down from 2,000; running young Indy down the dock to the loo as we fought to free ourselves from diapers; learning to hear small noises and react to them immediately.  Where did the time go?

I refuse to let this post become a sappy reminiscence - well, okay, I’m likely temperamentally incapable of it - but I think I can manage a brief recap without going all gooey, don’t you?

Some Lessons I’ve Learned From A Year Aboard

• Once you reach the tropics, you cannot buy any food product packaged in cardboard.  No, really.  Don’t do it.
• Modesty and hot weather are almost wholly incompatible.
• If you give them the chance, people are delightfully nice anywhere you go, up to and including riot police waving and blowing kisses to our grinning girls in Cartagena.
• Markers are just as bad an idea with the under-6 set on a boat as they are in a house.

Nicest surprise 

• Guatemala.  We almost didn’t go, and I’m so glad we did.

Biggest regret

• Not getting a photo of the world's best perfume box.  This gem was sitting in a corner store display case in Guanaja: an oversized box with a dreamy, 70s-style airbrushed photo of a woman in purples and blues, and the words JUICE OF LOVE flowing across the front.  I curse leaving my camera behind that day.  Google Images was no help, so it looks like this bit of excellence will remain hidden from the world a while longer.

Papillon Trivia

• We have travelled more than 6,000 km so far, visiting the USA, Bahamas, Mexico, Belize, Guatemala, Honduras and Colombia.
• The Best Visitor Award goes to my mother, bunny9, who as of Monday will have visited Papillon a record four times.
• Indy has named her feet.  Formerly Bagel and English Muffin, they are both now named Rubber Biscuit.  I swear she came up with this on her own.  She has reluctantly allowed us to distinguish them, but I remain glad for the language barrier here when I say, “Indy, give me your starboard rubber biscuit.”  I am considering producing a translation guide for future teachers. 

I am a red race-car-loving, loud-opinion-having, literal-minded original.

• Erik sunburns faster and more regularly than anyone else on board. [insert joke about Erik’s hot temper here.]

I can fix anything and my head makes an excellent pillow.

• Stylish likes to deliver notes via Zhu Zhu pet.  She ties paper and pencil to the back of these hamster-like electronic pets using an endless supply of purple wool (provenance unknown).  I’ll hear whirring gears and frantic animal sounds , then feel the thing bounce off my foot.  Replies are expected to be returned in the same manner.

I am a book-reading, princess-drawing, mermaid-aspiring delight.

• Despite your kind words, I am singularly unfunny.  Your correspondent is the straight man in this operation, a dour, suspicious personage better suited to a drizzly moor than a palm-laden isle.

I am a crabby person who likes to write.  And yes, that is a cut on my hand.

I’d go on, but I am making pizza dough and the timer is about to go off.  Later, maybe we’ll kick back, have a beer, and peer at the USS Spruance anchored off to port.  Nothing says happy anniversary like a guided missile destroyer parked next door.

All the best to you all on this fine occasion!  I hope you'll join us to see what Year Two will bring.

Guatemala Roundup

If all goes well, we should be departing Guatemala for Honduras at this time this post appears.  This is a tricky undertaking; we can only leave the Rio Dulce during the full moon high tide, because the mouth of the river spots a nasty shallow muddy bar, and we draw 6.5 feet.  So we have a short window of a few days each month when we can leave, weather permitting.  As hurricane season will only grow worse, we'll either leave this week, or not until the fall.

But let's assume that all has gone well and we are out at sea.  What did we do in Guatemala?

We climbed some Mayan temples:

I'm the queen of the castle

 Toured the rainforest canopy:

Tether mandatory.

You mean, I shouldn't jump down there?

 Played croquet on the fourth of July:

Even Indy is a princess sometimes.

 Lit confusingly-labelled sparklers:

Electric how, exactly?

 With predicable results:

Ow.  Stylish has an unfashionable hole in her foot.

 We lazed around some:

Sharing a hammock as only sisters can

 Ate some apples:

Yum.

 Enjoyed a waterfall with hotsprings:

Look!  Even Mom is there!

 And just generally admired the view.

Ahhh.

And that, my friends, is Guatemala.

No Time to Talk

The internet is being briefly cooperative.  Photos!

Barracuda: catch and release

Free-diving Stylish

A brief rest between repairs

Bumming around Long Cay