Get Off My Lawn: Learning to Share Space

When my parents decided to visit, I was happy for a number of reasons, not the least of which was the prospect of exploring New Caledonia from the land side.  All too often as we sail around the planet, we stick to strictly water-related activities.  Sailing.  Snorkelling.  Swimming.  The three "S"s.  So this was a chance to try something new.

And over the past couple of weeks, we have been out almost every day.  We explored the reef off Ile aux Canards.  Toured the aquarium.  Hit the beach.

Hmm.  Okay, I guess we haven't completely broken free from our water-based activity schedule.  Even our trip into the mountains to visit Sarramea centered around - you guessed it - swimming in the trou feuillet.

Another family left just as we arrived.  Hot dog!  We had the place to ourselves.  The girls wasted no time in getting into the water.  And after enduring the same safety lecture from me and both of their grandparents about not getting washed down into the next pool, we all had some fun.

Until...

Super Bowling in New Caledonia

The girl at the tourist information center blinked at me uncertainly. “Pardon?” she asked.
“The Super Bowl,” I said again. “It’s a big sports event. American football?”
“You mean rugby?” she asked hopefully as she twisted her hands together. I felt sorry for her 21 year-old self - they clearly had not covered this eventuality in training.
“Not quite.” I looked over my shoulder at my father. He smiled at me hopefully. I hated to burst his bubble, but even if I spoke French like the President of l’Académie Française, there was no way I was going to find him the Super Bowl on TV in Noumea.

A good host should be prepared for all eventualities, but, I have to admit, this request caught me by surprise.  I've always been of the opinion that sports, like most things in life, are better played than watched, so these major viewing events aren't really on my radar.  Before my parents arrived in Noumea, I did what I thought was sensible: I prepped the dinghy for water excursions, saved the car rental number in my phone for land trips, and had a list of ideas at the ready. But after a couple of lazy days of reading, adjusting to the time change and having the girls crawl all over them, my dad decided it was time to take care of priority items, and in the number one spot was: where was he going to watch the Super Bowl?

Trick-or-Treating on the High Seas

I'll admit it - I'm a sucker for Hallowe’en.  Oh, Christmas has its charms – lots of family, lots of presents.  Easter is a chocolate-lover’s dream.  But nothing celebrates a combination of excess and rule-breaking like the 31^st of October.  “Wear whatever you want!”  “Sure, you can go for a walk in the dark and take candy from strangers!”  “Imagination is a good thing!  Believe in ghosts and fairies all you like!”  Hallowe’en is ironically, for all of its scary trappings, a day when members of the community agree to trust each other and take a one-day break from fear.

I am fully aware that I fly the Hallowe’en flag alone on this boat.  Indy and Stylish like it, of course, but since our Hallowe’en activities change from year to year, they haven’t built up a sense of tradition-through-repetition the way I did.  Erik finds the entire urban trick-or-treating formula mystifying.  As best I can tell, he travelled back to the rural 1880s for his Hallowe’ens.  On Hallowe’en night, he and a friend rode on horseback between a handful of farms.  They clopped down lanes lit with candled sheep skulls, and were invited into dim kitchens to sip hot cider and eat home-made treats while gammers and gaffers told them terrifying stories of local murders and haunted inns.  What a show-off.  I’m sure I had just as much fun strolling from house to house dressed as a punk rocker and collecting tiny Mars bars in a pillowcase.

Welcoming Visitors Aboard

October was Visitor Month aboard the good ship Papillon.  And it was really fun.  But I am really tired.  Having friends and family around is always a treat, but it also carries a responsibility.  Not only are we trying to entertain the people we care about in our piece of floating aluminum, we are also trying to reassure them that a) we aren't crazy for living on a boat, and b) see point a.  This isn't inherently difficult - anyone willing to visit us has either already wrapped their head around the peculiarities of onboard life, or they like us (read: the kids) enough to overlook the less comfortable bits. But still - we make the effort.

You never know how things are going to play out.  Sometimes you get lucky.  My parents visited us in the San Blas islands in Panama, and enjoyed two weeks of blue skies, warm days, and easy sailing from island to island.  Sometimes your luck runs out.  Erik's parents spent last Christmas with us in New Zealand, and we had a gale for five solid days.  We rolled in the fetch, drinking tea and wishing we could escape to shore.  Soon the dodger saturated, so it was full-on raining in the cockpit.  There we were, huddled belowdecks beside the diesel heater, with two wild-eyed kids high on pre-Christmas-excitement and gummy bears.  Unsurprisingly, this year my in-laws have elected to give us a miss and visit Mexico instead.  Lesson: don't invite people to stay aboard anywhere with a good chance of bad weather.