Free from the docks lines

En Español

Treasures from the beach of Culebrita 

Leaving the pier was a little; as our Venezuelan friend says; exciting. But once I got to loosen the anchor from the rope on the piling, the channel off the lagoon seemed a passage to infinity. Ah! Those waters constantly bubbling with the roar of the wind... They are the best in the world for the soul of this sailor's heart.

We spent two nights at Christmas Cove, one of the best places in the Caribbean: beautiful turquoise waters, spectacular coral reef, clear as an aquarium, despite the deterioration of coral. The place is almost deserted after four in the afternoon, when all the tourist boats depart. First balcony for sunset and a constant breeze. St. Thomas is just a mile away, the island lights light up like fireflies in the distance. No noise, just the wind and the waves crashing against the hull.

Two nights rocking is enough preparation for an adventure 24 miles straight west. At 730 am we were on our way. Captain behind the wheel and his crew on alert, half of a neutamine pill helps me prevent motion sickness. Winds of zero knots on the stern. The boat was moving at 6.1 knots, powered by the iron genoa, and helped by the current and wind. My Captain says that the return to St. Thomas is not going to be so nice.

Anyway, here we are, in Culebrita.

The place is a little gem. From the hill a beautiful brick lighthouse is watching us and if there are six boats anchored is too much.

Our friend Mike Brown from Beaufort, NC; was sailing his beautiful Russamee, with its four white sails in full power. Spectacular welcome. He didn't know we were coming and we did not know he was going to be in Culebrita this morning.

We already swam and made a delicious soursop smoothie. Jim takes a nap. I listen to music and write. Tonight we'll anchor in Ensenada Honda.

Happy hour is at 5. We'll meet more interesting people there. Life is so hard, after all, for this Creole outside Cuba.

Thursday, 01/23/2014

AnechyNotes

Libre de ataduras

To English

Tesoro de la playa de Culebrita

Salir del muelle fue un poco; como nuestro amigo de Venezuela dice; emocionante. Pero una vez que logre zafar el ancla de la cuerda del poste; el canal de salida de la laguna parecía un pasaje al infinito. ¡Ah! Esas aguas en constante bullir con el rugir del viento... son lo mejor que hay para esta alma de corazón marinero.

Pasamos dos noches en Christmas Cove, uno de los mejores lugares en el Caribe: bellas aguas color turquesa, una red coralina espectacular, clara como un acuario; a pesar del deterioro del coral. El lugar se queda casi desierto después de las cuatro de la tarde, cuando todos los botes de turismo parten. Primer balcón para la puesta del sol y una briza constante. St. Thomas está a solo una milla de distancia, las luces de la isla se encienden como luciérnagas en la distancia. No hay ruido, solo el viento y las olas chocando contra el barco.

Dos noches meciéndonos es suficiente preparación para una aventura de 24 millas, recto hacia el oeste. A las 730 a.m. estábamos en nuestra ruta. Capitán tras la rueda y tripulación en alerta, media pastilla de neutamina, me ayuda contra el mareo. Vientos de cero nudos en la popa. El bote se movía a 6.1 nudos, impulsado por la vela de hierro, ayudado por la corriente y el viento. Mi Capitán dice que el regreso al St. Thomas no va a ser tan bonito.

De cualquier modo, aquí estamos, en Culebrita.

El lugar es una joyita. Desde la colina un bello faro de ladrillos nos observa y si hay seis botes anchados es mucho.

Nuestro amigo Mike Brown, de Beaufort, NC; navegaba su bellísima Russamee, con sus cuatro velas blancas a todo viento. Espectacular recibimiento. El no sabí que nosotros llegábamos y nosotros no sabíamos que el iba a estar en Culebrita esta mañana.

Ya nadamos y nos hicimos un delicioso batido de guanabana. Jim duerme una siesta. Yo escucho música y escribo. Esta noche anclaremos en Ensenada Honda.

Happy hour es a las 5. Más conocidos estarán ahí. No es tan dura la vida de esta criolla fuera de Cuba, después de todo.

Jueves, 23/01/2014

AnechyNotes

Rediscovering St Thomas

En Español

Red Hook from the hill

In the last two years visiting the Caribbean, St. Thomas always seemed to me an island with less life. I enjoyed the friendships that I have built over time, but could not find much fun in St. Thomas. This year, maybe because we haven't had to work too much in Salty Shores, we've dedicated more time to explore and enjoy the place. The first month of the season we were house-sitting for our friends Skip and Andrea. In the mean time we enjoyed the wonderful view from their house, the pool and the cute Maní.

Last week we moved to our “floating condo”. And the heat makes us leave the the “shell", so we go every day to Secret Harbor to swim and take a shower, because what it hasn't grown into me, are the showers at Compass Point Marina. It's terrible to say, but overall, with social networking privacy been a subject to public review... it is not too bad.

Speaking of the marina. Since they started working on extending the docks, the services have gone from one to minus one percent. All maintenance personnel have been appointed to the construction, so we don't have who clean the showers or who collect garbage. Wait. What rubbish? If the tanks were removed. As Jim says, this place has become a nursing home for boats.

That's why we prefer to shower at the beach. I'm so ashamed ! Um... not really. Because it feels wonderful, and sometimes after the exercise we seat at the bar and enjoy the sunset and a Bushwaker.

Our morning's entertainment, sometimes is to drive where the fruit vendors, we buy coconut water by the gallon and lots of fruits. The fridge is full of papayas and as usual we have soursop in every corner of the main salon.

This month my back hasn't be so good, so the idea of going sailing intimidates me a little. With the help of the chiropractic in Tillet Gardens, who popped every bone of my spine, I feel much better. So the adventure is about to begin.

St John's adventure was unique. We thought we were going to take the ferry and spend the day exploring, swimming at the beach, have lunch at "Skinny Legs" and return on time for our concert in Tillet Gardens. But we had forgotten that time in the Virgin Islands is a little bit slower. So it took us an hour to get on the ferry. And we could not go the earlier one, because we did not know that tipping the usher would accelerate the process. The people in the car next to us  took advantage of it. The funny thing was that we had to back up onto the ramp, and trucks with cargo go in the center. The ride was a little bumpy. The sea was choppy and the trucks were moving as if they were to fall on their side.

After a delicious Sushi dinner with our friends Chuck, Lindy and Ruth, we whet to a concert of Cedric Watson, in Tillet Gardens, put together by the foundation Arts Alive. This musician from Louisiana and his group, made she ground shake with violins, accordions and a washboard. The simplicity of the tunes and the romanticism of the lyrics in French made a perfect combination. Then a neighbor from the marina, Fredie jumped on the stage to join them with his washboard and the spoons. I was so much fun!  

Last Saturday we wen to the youth VI swimming olimpics. The event was impressing. A lot of swimmers from St Croix, BVI and St Thomas showed up. the kids were between ages of 6 and 16. Beautiful swimming styles. We were supporting Skip and Andrea's daughter, Grace. That girl is a walking fish!

In the west side of the island, once a year they have the Rastafarian farmers fair. And there we went on Suday. We enjoyed the steel pan band, the natural juices and great vegetarian dishes: Caribbean pumpkin soup (the pumpkin is Caribbean, the soup is rasta).

Thus, not being able to go sailing, because of my back, and house-sitting for our friends, we explored more and re-discovered the island. I feel like I am Christopher Columbus. Did you know he named the papaya the fruits of the angels? We have been eating lots of it. Incidentally, in Cuba we call it Fruta Bomba.

AnechyNotes

Redescubiendo St. Thomas

To English

Red Hook desde la colina

En los últimos dos años visitando el caribe, St. Thomas siempre me pareció una isla con menos vida. Disfrutaba mucho de las amistades que he construido con el tiempo, pero no encontraba mucha diversión en St. Thomas. Este año; tal vez por que no no hemos tenido que trabajar tanto en Salty Shores; nos hemos dedicado más a explorar y a disfrutar del lugar. El primer mes de la temporada no los pasamos cuidando la casa de nuestras amistades, que pasaban la navidad en el continente. Mientras nos deleitamos con la maravillosa vista desde su casa, la piscina y la chulísima Maní.

La semana pasada nos mudamos a nuestro condominio flotante. Y el calor nos hace salir del “caracol”, así que todos los días vamos a Secret Harbor a nadar y de paso a ducharnos, porque lo que sí no ha crecido dentro de mi son las duchas de Compas Point Marina. Es terrible decirlo, pero total, con las redes sociales la privacidad es objeto de la opinión pública.

Hablando de la marina. Desde que empezaron la ampliación del muelle; los servicios han pasado del uno al menos uno por ciento. Todo el personal de mantenimiento ha sido designado a la construcción, así que no tenemos quien limpie las duchas o recolecte la basura. Espera. ¿Qué basura? Si hasta los tanques los quitaron. Como dice Jim, este lugar se ha convertido en un asilo de botes. Ese es el motivo por el cual preferimos ducharnos en la playa. ¡Qué vergüenza! Um... no de veras. Porque no las pasamos de maravillas, y a veces después del ejercicio nos sentamos en el bar y disfrutamos de la puesta del sol.

Nuestro entretenimiento matutino, a veces es donde los vendedores de frutas y agua de coco. La nevera esta llena de papayas y como de costumbre tenemos guanábana en todos los rincones del salón.

Este mes he tenido la columna bastante desajustada, por lo que la idea de salir a navegar me intimida un poco. Gracias a la quiropráctica de Tillet Gardens, que me traqueo todos los huesos me siento mucho mejor. Así que la aventura está por comenzar.

La aventura de St John fue única. Pensabamos tomar el ferry y pasarnos el día explorando, bañarnos en la playa, almorzar en "Skinny Legs" y regresar en tiempo para nuestro concierto en Tillet Gardens. Pero se nos había olvidado, que el tiempo de las Islas Virgenes es un poquitico más lento. Así que subirnos al ferry nos tomó más de una hora. Y no nos pudimos ir en el primero porque no sabiamos que una propina al acomodador aceleraría el proceso. El grupo a nuestro lado se nos adelantó. Lo curioso fue que hay que subir la rampa marcha atrás, y los camiones con cargo van en el centro. El trayecto fue un poco movido. El mar estaba picado y los camiones se movían como si se fueran a virar.

Después de cenar sushi con nuestras amistades Chuck, Lindy and Ruth, fuimos al concieto de Cedric Watson, en Tillet Garden, preparado por la fundación Arts Alive. Este músico de Louisiana y su grupo, con acordiones, violines y una tabla de lavar hicieron templar el suelo. La simplisidad de la música y la ternura de sus letras en francés son una combinación perfecta. Luego nuestro vecino en la marina le les unió con su tabla de lavar y sus cucharas. Divertido.

El pasado sábado, fuimos a las olimpiadas juveniles de las Islas Virgenes. El evento fue impresionante. Con chicos desde 6 a 16 años de edad, que vinierons desde St Croix y BVI. Buenos nadadores. Nosotros fuimos apoyando a la hija de Skip y Andrea, Grace. Esa niña es un pescado.

En el otro lado de la isla se celebra una feria agrícola Rastafarian una vez al año. Y allá fuimos. Disfrutamos de la música de los tambores de acero, los jugos naturales, la comida vegetariana y la gente alegre. 

De esta manera, el no poder ir a navegar, por mi espalda, y cuidando la casa de nuestros amigos; hemos explorado más y re-descubierto la isla. Me siento como Cristobal Colón. ¿Sabias que él llamó a las papayas las frutas de los ángeles? Nosotros hemos estado comiendo muchísimas. A propósito, en Cuba le decimos Fruta Bomba.

AnechyNotes

El fin del año

In English

Este 31 de diciembre, después de la cena, nuestro amigo nos invitó a Jost Van Dyke, BVI. Esta isla se encuentra a 12 millas de St. Thomas. Al principio la idea sonaba un poco loca y hasta peligrosa, considerando que el lugar iba a estar lleno de botes y de gente tomando.

El paseo fue maravilloso. A la entrada de la bahía de Jost se podían ver todos los botes anclados. Una escena espectacular e inolvidable. Había cruceros pequeños, veleros de todos los estilos y tamaños. Cada uno lucía su esplendor con luces y música. La tripulación a bordo se regocijaba en la belleza de la noche, muchos se preparaban para montarse en los anexos e ir a tierra, donde la fiesta prometía ser en grande. Nosotros admiramos el panoramas, mientras buscábamos por un sitio cerca de la playa donde anclar. ¿Como íbamos a llegar a la orilla, a 100 metros de distancia? Bueno, nuestro anfitrión dijo que alguien nos haría el favor. Y sin dudas, cinco minutos después de haber anclado, pasó el primer anexo, y ese mismo nos llevó hasta la playa.

Una vez en tierra firme todos nuestros sentidos se pusieron alerta. La vista era sobre-estimulante. La música, la comida, el aire colmado con humos de “hierba buena”. La risa y la alegría en los rostros jóvenes intoxicados de ella. El primer lugar al que entramos fue al bar de Foxy's. La gente no estaba vestida, estaban disfrazados, y su mejor atuendo era el incógnito. Pedimos un trago: “painkiller”. Y luego caminamos calle abajo a disfrutar la escena en un espacio menos saturado. Los jóvenes gozaban su libertad. Se paraban delante de nosotros en la calle y gritaban: ¡Dame cinco! O bailaban con cualquier desconocido, todo el mundo respondía con la misma alegría. El ambiente era perfecto.

En nuestro camino había todo tipo de kioscos de venta, con bebida, bisutería y comida. Muchachos que ya sobrepasaban el límite de tolerancia del alcohol. Si no estaban acostados en la playa, durmiendo la borrachera; algún amigo los sostenía en su hombro. También había un grupo tocando Reggae, y más música en todos los bares tratando de hacer la competencia con el sonido. Bailamos una canción de salsa y regresamos caminando por la orilla de la playa, donde más gente llegaba. Eran las 11:30, el sueño me estaba venciendo. Entonces el autor intelectual de nuestra aventura, se le ocurrió la idea de llevarnos de regreso a Foxy's, donde la fiesta estaba en su punto candente. Los chicos a la entrada bailaban jovialmente con sus trajes de baño ajustados, que no dejaban nada a la imaginación, las botellas de cerveza cubrían las mesas y el suelo debajo de ellas. Las chicas ya habían perdido toda la timidez y bailaban sobre las mesas, jalándose la ropa para dejar ver algo más. Un muchacho vino con su disfraz de mimo y bailó delante de nosotros.

Luego el espacio comenzó a hacerse más pequeño, pasar de un lado a otro era un atropello. Eran casi las 12, yo no quería estar en medio de aquella locura cuando el reloj diera la hora exacta. Alguien derramó su bebida sobre mi, tratando se pasar por encima de la mesa detrás de nosotros. Eso lo dijo todo.

En la playa la gente se preparaba para el conteo. Y de repente los gritos de alegría, todos se abrazaban, las parejas se besaban. Los borrachos que roncaban acostados en la arena; se incorporaron del susto y luego se acostaron otra vez. La aventura de Jost Van Dike estaba llegando a su fin y yo pensaba: ¿cómo vamos a llegar al bote? Al mismo tiempo me sentía bien en la playa, con la briza, las estrellas y el lugar contaminado de alegría. Entonces unos jóvenes, delante de nosotros, tal vez un poquito intoxicados, se quitaron la ropa en histéricos gritos. Y así, como Dios los trajo al mundo, se metieron al agua.

“Después de las doce es mejor irse”. Sugirió nuestro amigo. Lo seguimos al muelle donde varias personas se subían a sus anexos para partir. Yo estaba un poco incrédula. El primero nos dijo que no. Pero el segundo, preguntó que cuántos eramos y enseguida nos invitaron a montar. “¡Viva Noruega!” Gritamos nosotros. Y en cinco minutos emprendíamos nuestro regreso a Red Hook, sanos y salvos. Después de todo, lo que pasa en Jost, se queda en Jost.

AnechyNotes

The end of the year

En Español

This December 31^st , after dinner, our friend invited us to go to Jost Van Dyke, BVI. 12 miles from St. Thomas, by boat. At first the idea sounded a little crazy and even dangerous, considering that the place would be full of boats and people drinking, but the ride getting there was wonderful.

At the entrance of the Bay Jost we could see all the boats anchored. A spectacular and unforgettable scene. There were small cruise ships, sailing vessels of all styles and sizes. Each looking its best with lights and music. The crew on board was rejoicing in the beauty of the night, many were preparing to mount in the annexes and go to shore, where the party promised to be big. We admire the view, while looking for a place near the beach to anchor. How would we reach the shore, 100 meters away? Well, our host said someone would give us a ride. And undoubtedly, five minutes after having anchored, the fisrt dinhgy came by, and that same one took us to the beach.

Once onshore all our senses got in alert. The view was over-stimulating. The music, the food, the air filled with smoke “of good weed". Laughter and joy were drawn on faces of the young people, intoxicated by it. The first place we went to was Foxy's bar. People weren't dressed, they were wearing costumes, and their best attire was the incognito. We ordered a drink, "painkiller". And then we walked down the street to enjoy the scene in a less cluttered space. The young people were enjoying their selves. They stood on front of us and shouted :Give me five! Or dance with any stranger, everyone responded with the same joy. The atmosphere was good.

On our way there were all kinds of kiosks selling, with drink, jewelry and food. Some kids had exceeded their limit of alcohol tolerance. If they were not lying on the beach, sleeping it off, they were holding on to a friend's shoulder. There was also a band playing Reggae, and more music in every bar trying to compete with the sound. We danced a salsa song and back walking along the beach, where more people were coming from the boats. It was 11:30, I was getting sleepy. Then, the mastermind of our adventure, had the idea of taking us back to Foxy's, where the party was at its hot spot. The guys at the entrance danced merrily in their tide swimming suits, which left nothing to the imagination, there were beer bottles covering the tables and the floor beneath them. The girls had lost all shyness and danced on the tables, pulling his clothes to reveal a little bit more. A boy came with his mime costume and danced front of us.

Then space began to get smaller, moving from side to side was an outrage. It was almost midnight, I did not have the desire to be in the midst of this madness when the clock struck the exact time. Someone spilled his drink on me, trying to be passed over the table behind us. That said it all.

On the beach people were prepared for counting backwards. And suddenly the cries of joy, everybody hugging, the couples kissed. The drunk guys snoring on the sand joined fright and then lay down again. The adventure in Jost Van Dike was coming to an end and I thought: How are we going get back to the boat? At the same time it felt good to be on the beach, with the breeze, the stars and place contaminated with joy. Then some young men in front of us, maybe a little intoxicated, pulled their clothes off in hysterical screams. And so, as God were brought to the world, they went into the water.

"Is better leave after twelve." Suggested our friend. We followed him to the dock where several people were rising to their annexes. I was a little incredulous. The first group he asked said no. But the second, inquired him how many we were and then invited us to ride. "Long live to Norway!" we shout. And in five minutes we were ready to start our return to Red Hook, safe and sound. After all, what happens in Jost, stays in Jost.

AnechyNotes

My puppets and I

En Español

My first puppets in Cuba

It's true that I'm too old to play with dolls. But the day I discovered puppetry I couldn't stop dreaming about it. In Cuba, after nine years of study in Economics and Accounting, I made a drastic change in my career. What it meant starting all over and from scratch. I changed the calculator for a backpack full of puppets and paper mache musical instruments. I worked as a clown at birthday parties, theater and a circus troupe . Then I joined the National Puppet Theater in Havana. It took six years to lift the first foundations of my career as an artist, with the difficulty of not being able to be assessed because I didn't come from an art school . But like me, there are many artists in my country, which over time they've became recognized. Although my prize was always the smile of the kids.

The first puppets I build

Pepitin the poet

With my fellow clown in America's theater, Hav. Cuba

In 2010, I left for the U.S. to join my family . My colleagues told me: " say goodbye to the puppet stage and the audience." Even though I packed my puppets and my guitar. The first months in a new place there are many changes. The language becomes a terrifying barrier and culture is an obstacle when doing what I do. It took me three years to break the ice. Two months to assemble a story and a few minutes into the show to remember the joy of making the children laugh.

My guitar and I in Tampa, Fl

Payasin

My first presentation could not be in a better place: the daycare and preschool: Spanish For Fun Accademy ( SFFA ). Located in Chapel Hill, NC where I live. Chapel Hill is a university town and cultural movement is very diverse and broad, which is very favorable for my artistic carrier.

I want to thank the group of  Spanish For Fun Accademy, for all their support and for giving me space. The parents who gave some of their time to come and enjoy the show. To my friends, who helped during the production. And my friend Diana for giving me the push I needed .

AnechyNotes