back Stateside, so check out our continuing adventures in the REAL WORLD:

http://mattersathand.tumblr.com/

Matters At Hand : Three 20-something girls write about life, from NY, LA, and the People's Republic of China!  Check us out!

xoxo

The Kite-Runner, Ollantaytambo, Peru

We got the shot! Peru proof.

Plaza des Armas, Cusco, Peru

lunch on Taquile Island, lake Titicaca

our homestay sister, Lake Titicaca

The Argentines take their asados seriously

Found the Travelocity gnome..and he's gone green!

BA Zoo

Bruce eats blood sausage in Buenos Aires

In Which Mel Learns Firsthand the True Speedy Decision-Making and Athletic Ability of Bruce Willis in an Adrenaline-Rush Sort of Moment

(Writing from the top bunk of the Gecko Hostel in Palermo Hollywood, Buenos Aires, Argentina.)

Due to a sudden influx of 53 Chileños traveling together, as I am told is the norm, I am relegated to a four-person dorm shared by Manuel of Venezuela, Todd of Vancouver, and Bruce Willis, of the United States.

Bruce, a likeable guy, occupies the bunk below mine, and snores loudly enough that I am kept up most of the night with a (the only) pillow over my head, headphones in, albeit sadly not connected to anything, as my iphone was pinched on the Subte Linea D the other morning.  Good thing the Argentines believe wholeheartedly in the four-hour evening siesta - I have a shot at making up my beauty sleep later on today.

At approximately 2:15pm, I was on the top bunk trying to change inconspicuously after my shower, and my timing seemed to correspond perfectly with that of Mr. Willis´ internal clock.  Events happen in Hollywood slo-mo as follows: 

2:14 pm:  Mel is inconveniently half-naked and her shirt had fallen to where it was dangling precariously from the bedframe of the bottom bunk. Wrapped in a bright yellow scarf because her well-traveled, fully stolen boat towel was recently deemed wholly unsanitary and retired to a downtown wastebasket, with no ladder in sight because these bunks were put together with Lincoln Logs, Mel is forced to perch precariously with one foot on the back of a freestanding wooden chair in order to climb down from her unnecessarily elevated bunk to retrieve the article of clothing.

2:15 pm: It is while our graceful protagonist is attempting this outrageous balancing act that Bruce bolts awake, hits his head on the top bunk, leaps out of bed and into action in familiar Bruce Willis style, and plows into both chair and semi-nude Mel, knocking them down and allowing both Fodor´s and Lonely Planet´s exceedingly wordy Guides to South America to fall from their shelf onto Mel´s head.

2:17 pm: After a moment of stunned and increasingly awkward silence (on M´s part) and unexplained snorting (on Bruce´s), Mel manages to scamper up, grab the defiant garment, and shuffle into a corner to continue getting dressed.  Bruce mutters some very manly apology and, with lowered eyes, walks briskly out of the room and practically slams the door behind him.

2:25 pm:  Mel rather sheepishly emerges from the Hole, and is invited to BeniHana happy hour by Mr. Willis and entourage.

2:27 pm: Mel packs her camera and heads for the subway, reluctant sister in tow.

Arigato, Mr. Willis!

From the Hospital Bed, or, Is There A Passport Stamp for That?

Well, so maybe eating the week-old Indian Buffet served by a hacking, wheezing, jaudice-eyed old lady at 13,000 feet in Cusco, Peru was a risky move.  It sure tasted great!  And we missed our korma.  We missed eating anything with spice or seasoning, for that matter.

Two weeks later, I´m second-guessing myself. 

I write this from the Traveler´s Clinic in Cusco, where I am rather conveniently tethered to a six-foot pole by means of a much-needed bit of intravenous tubing.  I can´t move, so I´ll type.  One-handed, because as soon as my IV-bound left hand twitches toward ASDF, a sweetly militant nurse places it firmly back on the level bed.

Turns out Altitude Sickness, that awful lethargy and breathlessness, wasn´t the only malady impeeding my heroic ascent to Machu Picchu - I also had the good fortune of contracting four distinct strains of Salmonella, and to top it all off, a giant intestinal amoeba I dubbed Arnoldo (shout to Island Sol Sailing School and a certain equally nausea-inducing South American dive instructor).  Makes me wish there was a separate US Passport Addendum for Illnesses Sustained While Abroad.  Would give us backpackers one more thing to brag about besides our newest alpaca sweater addition, or how well we can roll our Rr´s.

I hadn´t eaten food, not a bite, in over a week, and to those of you who know how much I love food - Thai, sushi, pasta, seafood, salads with crazy ingredients, really elaborate breakfast sandwiches - Mel not eating anything at all is a freak, awful thing.

The weirdest part was, it wasn´t because of potentially humiliating public gastrointestinal encores, or pain - I was completely apathetic to the presence of food.  Why eat, when you can just watch other people indulge, and spend your Peruvian Nuevos Soles on more important things, like keychains with little googly-eyed llamas attached by their ears?

Today, my second day in the clinic, the mother hen-like nurses decided they were fed up with not feeding me, and forcibly ended my hunger strike by thrusting a rather mottled, mushy-looking plátano in my unenthusiastic mouth.  A weird sensation, chewing a banana for the first time in a long while, like oh, that´s what this mouth thing is for?  I thought it was only good for speaking primary-school-level Spanish and coughing Cusco smog.

And still no appetite, still impartial to the coming and reluctant going of the ubiquitous South American Pan de Mierda and jam, but the accusatory glares of the hospital staff are comparable to that of my Jewish grandmother at Passover Seder, so may guilt overcome stubborn salivatory glands, and compel me to consume a quesadilla.

Until then, the Pariwana Pizza Party will have to go on without me.  Just remember, folks, if a week-old Gringo from Portland is making your Pisco Sour tonight, chances are he´s whipping that raw egg into a lovely, frothy, Salmonella-infested foam atop your shot glass.  So drink up, and get ready to finally put that expensive travel insurance to good use. 


Here comes another freakin banana.

crossin the street, San Blas, Cusco

making Arroz con Leche in Cusco!

Checkin out the scene, first day in Cusco

amazing

Woke up this morning in Cusco feeling exactly like I do on Christmas mornings home in NY! I'm buried under a wonderfully warm duvet, but my nose is freezing; I smell coffee and hot breakfast and hear the comforting sounds of my bunkmates stirring, and the muffled voices and familiar clatter of pots and pans...the only foreign addition is the intermittant explosion of FIREWORKS outside signifying the Peruvian Independence day celebrations!

more later, gonna see about some coca tea!
xoxo M

Made it to PERU!

after a long day of traveling, we arrived in Lima around 10pm Sunday, and took a cab to the Pariwana Hostel in Miraflores, a backpacker-friendly area of sprawling, smelly Lima!
Fell asleep in our super cozy bunks almost instantly, and woke up to a room full of singing Israelis, a gringo, a Swede, and one exceptionally large Brazilian man (Robs was prretty nervous about having the bunk below him!)!
Enjoying the (complimentary) coffee and bread and jam!

Robin trying to feed me a straight-up greenish-black granola bar...thankssss buddy

Airport napping...

Hostel Livin'

Last full day on Catbird! Packing...

St. Lucian sunset

From Sea-Level to Cloud-Level

Well, after a solid month island-hopping down the Caribbean, Robin and I decided our time aboard S/V Catbird has come to an end.

As I write this, we are cruising at 30,000 feet above sea level, on a rattling, rusty Liat jet - and we can't stop smiling.

My man William Arthur Ward once wrote, "The Pessimist complains about the wind, the Optimist expects it to change; the Realist adjusts the sails.".

So, after a month of madcap mishaps and miscommunications, we quit expecting things to be different, and decided to adjust the sails. For two ocean-lovers, we are both thrilled to be far above it, speeding off to wonderfully landlocked Machu Picchu!

We realized that for both of us, the joy of traveling has always been the idea of following our own path, exploring on our own terms, and taking the time to meet amazing people and get to know some incredible places. On a boat (on THIS boat, at least), we were never in control of our own time, or our experiences - the captain was. At every beautiful island we came to, we sat at anchor far out in the harbor, to "catch the breeze" - or avoid docking and mooring fees - and watched life in the port towns through binoculars on the bridge (this we coined, "watching ants").

Going ashore was an option only when there were errands to run, and we spent every hurried, precious moment on land being screeched at, either in person or, on rare solo trips, through the static of a VHF.

Back on board, we were novice crew on a large, old sailboat (see the dangers and derailed decision-making I mentioned a few posts back), and we found it wasn't the poorly-maintained boat, the sailing, or the tight communal living that got to us - it was not being able to trust the instructions of the captain when we needed his help.

Every word out of his mouth, every line drawn on a chart, had to run through our "Don-sense" detector (good one, Rob-o!), because it usually made no sense whatsoever. As novice crew on HIS large, old sailboat, however, our opinions remained unanswered raised eyebrows across the bridge.

And I'm thankful for the experience, no regrets. As I said, it taught me to speak up - and it showed me that though I love sailing - the surprisensalt spray, the feel of grinding a winch and the pull of lines in my hands, the power of a sail - I will never own a charter boat!
That the make-up of the crew comes first and foremost (so glad we stuck it out together, R), and can make or break your time on a boat,
That when I'm traveling, autonomy is one of the things I value the most. Having the independence to stop watching ants, and instead dive into the culture I'm visiting is a freedom I regained as soon as I booked my flight.

So that's our plan. We bid adieu to S/V Catbird and we're fast-tracking to South America. We're going to dive in - we are going to surround ourselves with people, sights, and smells and food and music.

Off to Peru! Where we'll climb mountains, hug some llamas, trek and explore on our own time, on our own schedule. Where the only water we want to see is that of hot hostel showers and Lake Titicaca!

See ya in Lima!

Catbird from the dock, Young Island, St. Vincent

enjoying a Lucian sunset

jumping off the bridge, Gros Piton, St. Lucia

Dr. Feel Good and his pirogue, St. Lucia

charter-ready!

Soufriere, St. Lucia

In Sum:

In Sum:

We have now become expert
food preps, sous chefs,
jib sheeters, latrine cleaners,
bridge walkers, smooth talkers,
chart readers, fish feeders,
dolphin watchers, pirate dodgers,
mast scalers, coffee inhalers,
engine repairers, tourist scarers,
bottom scourers, biweekly showerers,
line untanglers, fruitstand finaglers,
fuel moppers, island hoppers,
Patois speakers, man creepers,
punch spikers, bull dykers,
sun bathers, bagel cravers,
ass kissers, stern pissers,
daydreamers, night screamers,
frequent whiners, almond diners,
multitaskers, gas passers,
dinghy drivers, boat MacGyvers,
ball peekers, adventure seekers,
Beyoncé bumpers, turtle humpers,
toenail losers, yachtie schmoozers,
goat cheese hoarders, bottom paint snorters,
shark baiters, navigators!

Excited for land. See ya soon, Lima!

and the moral of the story is...

and the moral of the story is...

This delivery has been one of the most challenging experiences of my life, amd
for that, I am grateful. Sailing an 82-foot cat was physically challenging,
to be sure - staying up all day and night with no land in sight, grinding
those winches, hauling the dinghy, and the constant scrubbing and running around - but I know Robin will agree, the hardest part was the mental and emotional toll of this particular passage.

It was very difficult, indeed, to be put in a position where I was in well over my head, and therefore compelled
to follow orders, even when those
directives went against what little sailing knowledge I might have acquired.

This trip forced both of us, naturally non-confrontational, to listen to our gut instincts, trust them, and voice our thoughts, even at the risk of starting an argument. We learned to think more critically, and act more cautiously, and not once did we regret it. This is, after all, a dangerous undertaking for the careless.

As a result of our looking out for each other, we have avoided (or at least cannot be held responsible for): crashing the boat, running aground, falling overboard alone at night without a harness or lifejacket, being assaulted by a drunken charter guest, losing a hand in between the anchor chain and windlass (our fingers are forever grateful!), losing an eye to an exploding block, solo drift diving in unfamiliar waters with a 4 knot current and no dsmb, swimming while underway in the Atlantic moments before two large, possibly hungry sharks race by the boat, or falling from 80 feet up the mast while our trusty belayer sneaks off to the galley to snack on some mango slices...

so kids, just remember: TRUST YOUR GUT & SPEAK UP! ...you never know when that excessive 400 feet of anchor chain in 15 feet of water is the result of your captain falling asleep at the helm with his finger on the 'anchor down' button...

Music: Mishka - Above the Bones

PS: Mom & Dad, please don't freak out. We are both safe and sound, thanks to some common sense and teamwork. Ducks fly together.

The Pervy Russian

The Pervy Russian
18 July 2011

Of course, what would a surprise week-long, six-person charter be without us having to ward off the lecherous advances of one former Soviet Intelligence officer?

Our charter consists of two families, with two 8-year-old kids fighting and screaming like Siberian banshees. They eat constantly, (the one young prince, Max, informed our chef his breakfast tasted like 'crew food'.) creating a never-ending stack of dirty dishes towering like a precarious Pisa over our tiny galley sink.

They predictably override our selection of mellow, beachy tunes in favor of blasting Russian techno at all hours
of the day, and in true Soviet form, they spend their days - pasty legs dangling off the stern - fishing and ripping shots of vodka.

The alpha male, also named Max, while
attempting - quite successfully - to decimate the local reef fish population (ciguaterra soup, anyone?), has made it clear on Day 1 that his primary objective is to ignore all marital and familial obligations in favor of courting two extremely reluctant crew members, with such winning lines as,

"Make me a drink, my sweet Mee-lisa; I need your spirit in my spirits."

...and a few 'spirits' deep:

"What size are your feet? Size six? I could just tell. I hate women with big feet, feet as big as mine. She could be the most beeyootiful woman, but big feet? Disgusting."

"Let me take picture of you. I think you are very photogenic."

"Are you going swimming? No? Are you afraid of sharks? But YOU are a shark! Sleek, like a shark. Do not be afraid of your own kind! Why aren't you smiling? Smile for me. Look at me. Answer me. Don't look at her - why do you keep looking at her instead of me? What, are you lesbians or something?"

...we informed our captain, and our grizzly-like chef, Chris, of Max's unwanted advances, and they both cornered him and his apologetic friend, and reassured us that was the end of the Commie Creeper.

Needless to say, our steward service has been less than obliging since.

Broke & Barefoot in Tortola

Broke & Barefoot in Tortola
...or, Big Z and Little M in The Case of the Stolen Tender

Road Harbor, Tortola
25 June 2011

Set alarm and wake up at 5:30 am to give myself a half-hour to eat breakfast and have coffee before motoring the boat over to the fuel dock to fuel up for our sail.

Of course, in true Catbird fashion, as soon as there is any movement above deck, Captain Don puts us to work, with the vaguely promising, "Oh, but we'll sit and have a nice bowl of cereal once we reach the fuel dock...I want to make sure we're there extra early this morning so we have room.".

D tells Robin to get ready on the port bowline and puts me at the stern. We motor over, and as we're pulling up to the dock and tossing the lines over to the fuel attendant, Don yells for me to pull the dinghy up alongside.

Well, I look behind me, and there is no 14-foot dinghy in sight - must already BE alongside. I check the starboard side and...no tender to be found. Shout back, "Um, Don? I don't see the dinghy..." and he returns, rather brilliantly, "It's at the stern!" - where I am standing. "No, no it's not..."

He comes down from the bridge to confirm that no, I am not mistaken, there is no tender, no tender line - our dinghy has disappeared.

6:30 am
While he sets up the boat for fueling, he instructs a groggy Robin and I to pull down the double kayak and "just go paddle around and see if it drifted to shore.". Still no breakfast. And shore is quite a distance from the fueling platform. Robin and I exchange a look as we drag the kayak to the stern and set about lowering it into the chop. I suggest we throw a shirt and shorts on over our bikinis, and we hop in, as graceful as we get at 6:30 in a pre-coffee morning, and set out looking for T/T Catbird.

We paddle through the swell and into the sulfurous-smelling mangrove swamp, around the ritzy Moorings, and through the Village Cay Marina, but there is no tender to be found.

We tie off the 'yak, (a subtle shade
of hunting orange) to a cleat at the marina and hop onto the dock, soaked, starving, shoeless and smelling of swamp. It is 0700, and everything is still closed up, so we wander around for a time waiting for the marina office to open, and trying vainly to hail Captain Don on our VHF.

0730
Ravenous and half-asleep, we stumble (quite literally) upon a little French cafe about to open, and both are ecstatic when I find a crumpled, soggy one-dollar bill in the pocket of my jean shorts. Skip barefoot back to the bakery to see what our one dollah can buy us. One dixie cup of coffee, not brewed yet. Oh, we'll be back.

We post up on the pier by the marina office and watch the harbor wake. A very salty woman and her hefty jack russell walk by on their way to the square of crapable grass and tell us to check out the dolphins by the Necker Belle on A Dock.

Walk out, see no dolphins, but use the opportunity to creep on the Belle, and try to hail our trusty captain again from close range. No answer. Feelin pretty punchy at this point, and walk back to the coffee shop to trade in our lone dollar. Practically throw it in the poor girl's hand, grab our tiny Styrofoam shotglass of java juice, and
split sips outside under an awning as it pours rain.

Walk out to the point to try hailing Don on the radio again, and still no response. We do, however, have a lovely exchange with the only other person standing barefoot in the rain at 7:45 in the morning on a field cleared for a public market: a semi-toothless homeless man in a blue and yellow tracksuit.

Walk back to the marina where we make friends with James, the Road Harbour Marine Officer. He ushers our delirious, bedraggled selves into the air-conditioned office, and we all try again to hail our elusive commander. Nada. Attempt to call the police station to report our dinghy stolen, but, it being our third day on Catbird, we have not a clue as to the make and model of the tender, and, not being owners, are not much use ("Umm...it's maybe 25 feet..no? 15 feet long - what's that in meters? Sure. white-ish? Off-white? Eggshell?).

0830
Decided to post up dockside and wait for our space cadet capitan to come kayaking in. While we're sitting, lamenting our broke and barefoot condition, we are momentarily cheered by the tan and shirtless commercial dive crew as they start loading their boats for the day's work. A few
of them give a smile as they saunter
down A Dock, and we are startled out
of our hypoglycemic reveries by two rather great-looking scuba masters asking if we want to meet for a drink later.

The day's looking up!

More highlights:

The rope-assisted 'nature walk' led by two fourteen-year-old money-grubbing con artists by the names of Claude and Dr. Feel Good (Gros Piton, St. Lucia)

One Night with Vampire Bill and the Buena Vista Social Club (Rodney
Bay, St. Lucia)

The Exceedingly Short Shelf Life of a
Log of Herbed Chevre in the Presence
of Two Sleep-Deprived Premenstrual Sailors (en route)

14 Hour Sail with Russia's Top 20 Disco Hits of 1986

Barfing over the stern to the backdrop of Luciano Pavorotti

sharks love scrambled eggs

Two words: Jazz Xylophone

Impressions from St. Lucia....
"Ooh, would we call them pirates? How about 'overly inquisitive local boaters'?" - Capt. Don

At anchor in St. Lucia, we have to post a guard on the boat at all times, as pirogues (big, brightly painted wooden boats with outboards on the back..used
for fishing and..inquiries..) will cruise by night and day to check out the vessel, count the crew, and wait for the dinghy
to leave for town so they can come aboard and rob us blind. Several times, while we were anchored
outside the fishing town of Vieux Fort, one of us left on Catbird would step
out of our cabin to one of these inquisitive local boaters ready
to throw a line on our cleat and hop
aboard!

Here's a little somethin we picked
up when provisioning at the local market:

M: i saw captain don's ball sack.

M: i saw captain don's ball sack.
dinghy.
hole in shorts.

GAPING hole.

R: i feel bad for the rest of the island.
so youve seen his sack, ive seen his wang. the whole shebang is covered

note passed in back of taxi

When The Going Gets Tough...

We are now purposely ordering
tap water and raw, unwashed vegetables in every port in the hopes
of contracting some tropical illness and getting sent home.

Haha

Thursday, July 7
Rodney Bay, St. Lucia

SOS, Chris Parker!

Due to that tricky mainsail batten, a broken winch and port engine troubles, we changed course on Tuesday to skip Dominica (bummer!) and head straight for St. Lucia. Longest passage yet - arrived around 4am this morning to Rodney Bay (I steered us into the bay in the dark and set the anchor - and didn't hit anything! whew!), and all fell asleep as soon as the anchor grabbed the bottom. There is something really amazing about arriving in port at night and waking up to a whole new scene! We are here in St. Lucia for a week before 6 guests arrive to do a weeklong charter through the Grenadines - didn't know that chartering the boat was even a possibility on this delivery, but hey, we may make some moolah! Too bad Robin's CatBird shirt fits her like a dress..well at least she doesn't have to worry about finding some khaki shorts!
We both are feeling pretty boated-out after a long 48-hr sail/motor and some drama with the Captain's wife, but we're trying to keep our energy up and stay positive! It seems like every day we have some major mechanical failure, but I think that just comes with the territory. I'm getting good at taking apart winches and putting them back together again (and ducking
flying chrome, and keeping my fingers
on my hands)!
Captain Chris has joined us for the St. Kitts to Trinidad leg, and we are relieved to have him aboard! He's a great big bear of a guy, a hard worker, knowledgeable, and super upbeat, which is a blessing when another passenger
has nothing nice to say...He is also a professional chef, so Big Z and I
don't need to pretend we can cook for the charter guests!
When it was just Robin and I and Captain Don, sailing through the night (as is his preference) was pretty intimidating - one of us would be up on the bridge for hours through squalls and big seas, and the only person who really knew what he was doing was either asleep or down below trying to keep the engines from overheating. With Chris aboard, we now have someone who is not only a great sailor, he also understands how to communicate with his crew so that we're all on the same page! Beforehand, we had to look at the logbook to figure out why the port
engine hatch was billowing smoke, or that yes, we did indeed pass Dominica on purpose, so we can stop worrying we overshot it!

The Free Lunch Debacle, Or Happy 4th of July Hunger Strike:

In Which Big Z and Lil M Learn There Really Is No Such Thing as a Free Lunch


After a long, breakfastless morning of scrubbing and boat repairs, Mel was feeling a little faint, and decided to rummage through the less-than-frosty
freezer to make a veggie burger for lunch.

BIG MISTAKE, MEL.

Upon entering the galley, semi-frozen patty in hand, Mel was instantly accosted for her choice in cooking methods by the Wife: "You are
going to pan-fry that? You must
grill it!"
Mel calmly explained that really, throwing it on the stove was a far more efficient, if not epicurian, way
of heating the burger. Wife sits back
down in a huff.
Wife watches Mel pull out a pita, hummus and some leftover salad to accompany her burger.
Wife asks Mel to leave out some
of "her" salad because she is ravenous, as she did not eat breakfast. Why? Because she doesn't like granola and almond milk, and her husband was
too busy working on the boat to make her something else.
Mel leaves the salad out, with fork, assembles her sandwich, and sits at the table on the stern to enjoy her
meal.
Robin walks into the galley to grab a snack herself- little did she know she was entering a warzone.
Wife: " I cannot believe this. This
is rude, so rude. What are you, barbarians? You make food for yourself, and you don't even ask if
we all want to eat? then you sit down
outside all antisocial (We eat ALL our meals outside)? It is rude and uncivilized and I am disgusted with both of you. Never have I ever
seen such rude behavior! Opening and shutting the fridge! Always opening and shutting the fridge!"
(Mel is frozen mid-bite just outside, Robin slowly lowers her hands and returns her would-be lunch to the fridge)
"...I don't understand how he puts up with you both - you are rude! and selfish girls! Just get me off this f'ing boat, I mean it! I can't f'ing stand it anymore! Let him deal with you how he likes, I'm getting off this f'ing boat right now!!"

Mel is quite shaken up by the
unexpected outburst, and both girls calmly try to explain that, as they understood it, breakfast and lunch were fend-for-yourself, and dinner was a more structured, sit-down affair. Wife kept screaming, and
Mel, still in shock, tries
to appease: "but I left out the salad?"
"it's only 11:30 - I didn't think anyone was ready for lunch yet?"

Mel and Robin retreat to the stern
to bail water, and mutually agree
to not set foot in "her" kitchen.

Almonds for dinner.

Monday, 4 July 2011
(Mel) We've been in St. Kitts since Thursday, and I'm writing it down as a place to revisit. Because of the vet school and the other two colleges
on island, there are a lot of young people here, and hanging out with them has been a welcome change from the inevitable loneliness that accompanies any significant time spent on a boat! Robin and I have both become close with our captain's friends Chris and Sam, Sam's amazing lady Caché and her girls, and especially Dove and Richard, visiting from Phoenix (dreamers unite!).
Fab bbq at Chris & Sam's big pink house
Thursday night, complete with dance
party led by Dove and Robin (flawless execution of Beyoncé's Move Your Body).
Had everyone on the boat Friday for an Israeli-style dinner of falafel and
pita, then said goodnight to the Captain and his wife, and Chris and his 8-year old son, who was having a ball on their boat-slumberparty. Drove up to Chris and Sam's house to get ready for the weekend fun (note: don't bother trying to look good when you're about
to hop in a dinghy and tear through the surf - soaked through)!
Went out that night to the newest spot on island, Sobe (like the tea), and man it felt good to get dressed up and dance! A great scene - big indoor/outdoor bar with a deck right over the beach and crashing waves, and a lighted beach volleyball court with amphitheater seating (complete with shirtless spikers!)...amazing fun. The best part? Unlike St. Thomas, where everyone is spread out between happy hour spots and there's
often a clear dividing line between Weet Indians and Whites, it was clear that this was THE place to be - it was full of people, college kids, vets-to-be, and locals alike - everyone dancing up a storm (Shout out to a certain veternarian - sun never sets on a badass!).
Slept on Chris and Sam's couch - Big Z and I were happy to sleep on a bed that didn't move - and woke up (late!) Saturday morning to Sam and Caché making pancakes.
Sailed with the gang over to Nevis, which was just gorgeous. Arrived at dusk, starving, and all 10 of us piled into the dinghy and tied up at
Oualie Beach to dine. Amazing food, and a really romantic Caribbean-style open-air restaurant. They didn't seem to mind we were all in cut-offs and boardshorts - if you go, the key lime pie is perfection, but it was the priciest place we've eaten at - bring some serious EC$!
Motored back to Whitehouse Bay, as everyone was too tired to sail. Heard hushed whispers of a change of plans for our delivery, which made Robin and I exchange a few worried looks - charter? 6 people? St. Lucia? or back up to St. Martin? Maybe someone would fill in the clueless crew in the morning.

Robin serenaded Dove and Richard and I in the saloon, and we said goodnight once we set the anchor. I dinghied our guests to the dock in the
dark, but the maglight didn't prevent
me from stepping on a fisherman's
forgotten fish head while unloading passengers - ugh ugh ughhhhh!
Woke up early the next morning to the magnificent Whitehouse Bay by
daylight - only a few houses in sight, and lots of green, jagged hills
and rocky cliffs.
Went on another catamaran cruise
over to Nevis (a more verdant, posh Jost Van Dyke) to celebrate Sam and Caché's birthdays - yes, we were still on a boat, but on this one all the work
was done for us, so we could kick back, hang with their friends, and sip a dangerously delicious rum punch! Did
a snorkel stop along the way - so much fun to be on the other side and play tourist for a day!
Will miss you amazing people, keep in touch! xoxo

{robin}

Soooo, I've decided that this song pretty much sums up my experience of being on night watch on Catbird. Lyrics by (yes, I'm serious.... ) 

Avril Lavigne

I'm With You

I'm standin' on the bridge
I'm waitin' in the dark
I thought that you'd be here by now
There's nothing but the rain
No footsteps on the ground
I'm listening but there's no sound

Isn't anyone tryin' to find me?
Won't somebody come take me home?
It's a damn cold night
I'm tryin' to figure out this life
Won't you take me by the hand?
Take me somewhere new
I don't know who you are
But I'm, I'm with you
I'm with you
Hmm hmm hmm

I'm looking for a place
I'm searching for a face
Is anybody here I know?
'Cause nothing's going right
And everything's a mess
And no one likes to be alone

Isn't anyone tryin' to find me?
Won't somebody come take me home?
It's a damn cold night
I try to figure out this life
Won't you take me by the hand?
Take me somewhere new
I don't know who you are
But I'm, I'm with you
I'm with you
Yea yea

Oh, why is everything so confusing?
Maybe I'm just out of my mind
Yea eee yeah, yea eee yeah
Yea yee yea, yea eee yeah,yeah

It's a damn cold night
Tryin' to figure out this life
Won't you take me by the hand?
Take me somewhere new
I don't know who you are
But I'm, I'm with you, yea
I'm with you, yea

Take me by the hand
Take me somewhere new
I don't know who you are
But I'm, I'm with you, yea
I'm with you, yea

Take me by the hand
Take me somewhere new
I don't know who you are
But I'm, I'm with you, oh
I'm with you
I'm with you

on St Kitts!

hey all, arrived in St Kitts around 5 am after setting sail from Marigot last night around 7. Jib and main most of the way, and made decent time at around 10 kts. Felt worlds faster than the Anegada passage to St Martin, as we motored the whole way and only averaged around 3 kts. Port engine still overheating, and we need to replace a batten on the main, anndd the autopilot is out so Robin and I took turns manning the helm bleary-eyed all last night. At least our watches were shorter this time, and the captain's wife even
did one! Fell asleep on the stern as soon as we lowered the anchor, and slept most of the morning - woke up to strange voices and met (well there were 4 but due to our sleep deprivation only remember two names) Sam and Chris - two Kittitian transplants working as
commercial divers and looking to charter Catbird this winter. Nice guys; they're throwing us a bbq tonight at their house, and giving us an island tour tomorrow! hangin at Caribe cafe right now, people-watching and lovin the view
of Nevis - gorgeous landscapes with big tall green
volcanic mountains (and word on the street, monkeys!)
- hope to explore tomorrow. love to all,
mel

anddd....5 days later..

(Mel) We're in Marigot, St-Martin. Phone is about to die so this may take a few posts as we hunt down a european converter for our chargers.
Have a few journal entries of some choice
moments over the last 5 days..let me just say, it's been quite the shitshow.

Keywords and Highlights, while we wait for a charger:
stolen tender, 162 feet of bottom-scrubbing, The Shrimp Farm in my Hair, kayak valet service, learning filipino, Barefoot in Tortola, Yes We Do Indeed Get Seasick, Ongoing Mechanical Failures, Whoa this boat is Not a Hobie Wave, Effing mango slices, No I won't peel your avocadoes at 6am, Instant Coffee = Slow, Painful Death

miss you all, much love!

Dedicated To The Sol Mates
<3 Robin

From DOVE...
"...and now in the Caribbean we were to discover that happiness has no frontiers, that it's a state of mind and not a possession, not a set route through life, not a goal to be gained but something that steals in gently like an evening mist or the morning sunlight - something beyond our control."

It's my last night on St Thomas. It's a bittersweet feeling in my belly. Sweet because I'm ecstatic to be embarking on an epic sailing adventure across seas (and land) I've never explored. I'm fulfilling a lifelong dream (to see the world from the ocean's point of view) and it's hard for me to even comprehend what I'm about to do right now. But at the same time, it's bitter because I have to say goodbye to the cherished sol mates I've made here (been doing that a lot over the past year and a half....) I am going to miss each and every one of you (you know who you are....) Thank you SO much, from the bottom of my heart, for everything you've done for me from the moment I stepped onto this beautiful, kooky little island. I'm really going to miss you guys....
Thank you to everyone on St Thomas for being a part of my happiness. I'll be seeing you again soon....

also wishing our buds Brendan Hassett and Sam Grimes safe passage
across the Atlantic!! love you guys!

Geographer - Age of Consent (New Order cover)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v0tIMy0rIYM&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Mel's last night on St. Thomas...
Robin wrote such a beautiful note to the Island Solmates - her words voice my sentiments exactly, but I didn't think "ditto" would quite convey the enormous gratitude and love I feel for the Solmates, my roommates, and the friends I've met on these islands.

It is a rare thing, maybe an island thing, a small-town thing, to find a community of people so willing to drop what they're doing to help you feel welcome, settled, and loved. From buying and selling our cars, to finding homes and jobs and a good crowd
of people to spend our time with - it all happened via personal interactions, because of the empathy, comraderie, and compassion of the people here.

So thank you all - I love you so much, I feel so blessed to have met you and spent time with you! I know I'll see you all again sometime!

In the meantime, well, there's facebook.

xoxoxoxo Mel
racename: Spinderella
callsign: Cupcake

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wftc4U7wlBA&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Love As Laughter - Coconut Flakes
from the film "180 Degrees South"

Camera Obscura - Let's get out of this country

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gXkCbG1Lk3E&feature=youtube_gdata_player

another good seafaring tune.

Okkervil River - "Lost Coastlines"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZKmZRO8XzyY&feature=youtube_gdata_player

and our minds were meant to sail
take a rest from our thoughts
take a brake from this world
and we'll feel miles away
from the places that we used to be

Years Around the Sun - Miles Away

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oRdbvGgPPiw&feature=youtube_gdata_player

My room for the next 3 months! cozy, to say the least!

Heyyy Robin, nice cabin!

Robin, last provisioning trip!

and they're off!

young guns

the youngest grom out there

caught these two brushing the salt out of their hair

Me, Robin, and Laura - gonna miss this girl!

To follow are some fav images
from the 6th annual SkimSlam on Saturday...

Just remember...

In high seas or in low seas
I'm gonna be your friend,
I'm gonna be your friend.
In high tide or in low tide,
I'll be by your side,
I'll be by your side.

Gonna miss this pup! See ya in the fall, Mavdog!

Well, in typical island fashion, our departure date got pushed back again - the sail should be arriving Monday, so we're now planning to head out
sometime mid-week! We're both a little antsy to set sail, but at least this gives us a chance to check out SKIMSLAM!!!
Come out and support an awesome local cause! All our friends have been so hard at work, and we can't wait to see all those skimmers in action!

Robin and Captain Don!

SV Catbird!

3 more days on solid ground!

Hey everyone!
Mel here - Thought this would be a good way for friends and fam to keep track of us as we embark on our wild sailing adventure to South America!

Robin and I are still on St. Thomas in the US Virgin Islands, with three days to go, and still lots to do! We've been running errands all over the island, closing bank accounts, wiring money, shipping extra stuff home to New York and Hawai'i (did I get that apostrophe placement right, Robs?), and provisioning for a three-month voyage (bugspray, sunblock, and some new MAC makeup?); we also got Yellow Fever shots, and Doc Mock sent down some tropical-disease-fighting pharmaceuticals.

We're also in the process of selling our beloved island cars, and, after almost three weeks straight on the phone with various airlines, I finally found a great arrangement for my black lab, Maverick (you guys are the best- he'll be in great hands, and he'll have a great summer floating in the pool)!

It's wild packing nearly two years of island life into a backpack - we've both had some amazing times, and met some of the warmest people I've known - gonna miss you St. Johnians and St. Thomians- stay in touch!

Looking forward to one last full moon at Hull Bay with all the Island Solmates!