Nuestra vida en Les Saintes

Este año, por diversas razones, decidimos no irnos muy lejos. Así que nuestros planes se enfocaron en el sur de Guadalupe, nuestra isla favorita: Terre d'Haut. Las últimas dos semanas hemos estado perdidos en nuestras aventuras en el paraíso. A nuestra llegada sentimos como si no hubiésemos partido unos 10 meses atrás. Todo se mantiene en la misma calma y belleza. Los residentes no han cambiado mucho y nos recuerdan, a pesar del volumen de turismo diario. Se siente como nuestro segundo hogar... ¡oh-oh!

Este viaje decidimos no seguir la rutina de los habitantes, bagettes y croisants todos los días con una buena tasa de café, en cambio, Jim saluda con su Bon jour, comment ca va sureño, al que todo el mundo responde con alegría. Nos reunimos con amigos que conocimos el año pasado, nuestros vecinos en el anclaje, autores de mi inclinación por tocar ukulele. Y ello nos han arrastrado a todo tipo de actividades sociales.

Llegamos un miércoles, y el sábado nos invitaron a una fiesta para una campaña electoral, la primera vez en mi vida. Lo más versátil y divertido que me imaginaba como actividad política. Todo el pueblo estaba ahí, la gente sencilla con mucho que dar. Bailando, compartiendo con todo el mundo y sobre todo tomando, porque había bebida y comida gratis. Una mujer nos dijo en el camino que había que tener invitación para entrar, ninguno de los cuatro somos de la isla, pero fuimos recibidos con cuatro Heinekens. Luego el alcalde del pueblo Lois Molinier, y uno de los candidatos a las próximas elecciones llegó a la fiesta y compartió con todos, incluso con nosotros. ¡Guao! ¡Qué honor! Privilegio que no hemos tenido en Beaufort.

Nosotros llegamos en la semana del madigra (carnaval), y a diferencia del año pasado; que solo había un camión con unas bocinas y niños corriéndole detrás; la producción fue grande y tuvimos tambores y gente en disfraces alrededor de la villa por cuatro días.

Desde que andamos con nuestros amigos Christian y Marie-Laure, y guitarras y ukuleles a cuesta, todo el mundo nos saluda. Christian dice que aquí te hace más popular la música que el dinero. Gracias a ellos también conocimos a Patrik, periodista que ha entrevistado a muchos músicos, incluyendo artistas cubanos, con quien compartimos dos días y terminó invitándonos a Bordeaux.

Our life in Les Saintes

This year, for various reasons, we decided not to go very far south. So our plans were focused on the South Guadalupe, our favorite island: Terre d' Haut. The last two weeks we had been lost in our adventures in paradise. On our arrival we felt like if we had not left 10 months ago. Everything feels the same, calm and beautiful. Residents have not changed much and still remember us, despite the daily volume of tourism in the town. It feels like our second home ...oh- oh!

This trip we are not following the routine of the inhabitants, bagettes and croissants every day with a good cup of coffee, however, Jim salutes with his southern Bon jour, comment ca va? To which everyone responds with joy. We met with friends we met last year, our neighbors in the anchorage, the authors of my inclination to play ukulele. And they have dragged us to all kinds of social activities.

We arrived on a Wednesday, and on Saturday we were invited to a party for an election campaign, the first in my life. The most versatile and fun I could fancy as a political activity. The whole town was there, the simple people with much to give. Dancing, sharing with the everybody and especially drinking because there were free food and drinks. One woman told us, in the way there, that we needed invitations to get in, none of the four of us are from the island, but we were greeted with four Heineken. Then the town mayor Lois Moliniér and one of the candidates for the next election, came to the party and shared with everyone, including us. Wow ! What an honor! Privilege we have not had in Beaufort.

We arrived in the week mardigra (Carnival), and unlike last year, that there was only one truck with speakers and children running down behind, the production was great and we had drums and people in costumes around the village for four days.

Since we walk with our friends Christian and Marie-Laure, and guitars and ukuleles, everyone greets us. Christian says here makes you more popular the than money. Thanks to them we also met Patrik, a journalist who has interviewed many musicians, including Cuban artists; who we shared two days with and ended up inviting us to Bordeaux.

Meeting Christian at our arrival

Marie-Laure

A local telling us the story of his life in French Creole

Christian and the mayor

Mayor  and I talking about his trip to Cuba
and how much we love Les Saintes

The DJ having a great time

A character of the town after a few rums

Locals watching people dancing

A fisherman playing my uke for the girls

The prettiest face in town 

Patrick and his daugter

This kid saw us playing and came with his guitar to join the party, then played my uku, first time

With a local playing Caribbean music

Anse Figuier

Feeding bread to the goats

Mango suffle at Ti Kaz la

A fisherman we bought fish from

Me, been tough

Me, been realistic

Playing Over the Rainbow for the fishermen

AnechyNotes

La música del motor

Febrero 25/2014

El pronóstico de tiempo estaba mal, equivocado o adelantado. Se suponía que el viento vendría del noroeste, pero en cuanto Salty Shores asomó su nariz fuera de las costas de St. Barth, todo se hizo más claro: sureste, el viento venía del sureste. Las alas de mi corazón se pusieron mustias, eso significaba que no íbamos a poder navegar meramente con las velas. Y en efecto, tras unas pocas horas de largo intento, solo avanzabamos a 3 nudos por hora. A ese paso, la jornada de 24 horas se haría más larga e incomoda. El capitán me miró con lastima, mientras arrancaba el motor. Yo acababa de tomarme mi segunda dosis de neutamine (pastilla para el mareo). Luego me preguntó si me sentía bien, y solo le respondí que tenía hambre, un hambre voraz. La noche anteriorhabía sido dura, la crisis de gastritis se repetía por tercera vez, tanto que tuve que disculparme con los amigos que habíamos ido a visitar en St. Barth; por eso tenía tanta hambre.

Yo bajé a la galería a preparar un sandwich, algo muy sencillo, con espinacas y huevos hervidos. No habíamos acabado de almorzar, cuando un pez se enganchó en el anzuelo. ¡Ah, una tuna! Pensamos los dos, por el tamaño y el plateado de sus escamas, pero cuando la teníamos cerca se hizo evidente, era una apestosa barracuda. Jim bajó a buscar guantes y una pinza, para librarla del anzuelo sin sufrir mordeduras, cosa que se dio más fácil de lo que esperábamos.

La jornada no fue mala después de todo, me pasé toda la tarde leyendo y merendé un pedazo de cake de chocolate que había horneado hacía dos días. Vimos dos barcos pasarnos por al lado, en la distancia Nivas enciendió las luces y Monserrat nos esperaba con sus montañas humeando azufre. Una vez que pasaramos la isla, Guadeloupe nos sonría, entonces ya no escucharía el motor rugiendo y escupiendo humo y encontraría más comodidad para mi espalda, la noche se iba a aclarar con las luces de la cuidad, y mi corazón se iba a llenar de alegría, porque estaríamos a solo unas pocas horas de llegar a nuestro pedacito de paraíso en el Caribe.

Mientras yo decía , canta, motorcito lindo, canta, que quiero oírte cantar.

AnechyNotes

The Music of the Engine

February 25/2014

The weather forecast was wrong, wrong, or advanced. It was assumed that the wind would come from the northwest, but as soon as Salty Shores poked her nose off the coast of St. Barth, everything became clear: southeast, the wind was coming from the southeast. The wings of my heart became withered, that meant that we would not be able to navigate simply with the sails. And indeed, after a few hours long attempt we were only going 3 knots/hour. At this rate, the trip would be longer than 24 hours and uncomfortable. The captain looked at me with pity as he started the engine. I'd just taken my second dose of neutamine (seasickness pill). Then he asked me if I was feeling good, and only replied that I was hungry, starving. The night before had been harsh, the crisis of gastritis repeated for a third time, I even had to apologize to the friends we've gone to visit in St. Barth, so I was so hungry.

I went down to the gallery to prepare a sandwich, very simple, with spinach and hard boiled eggs. We had not finished lunch, when a fish got hooked. Oh, one tuna! We both thought, by the size and the silver of his scales, but when we got it close to the boat, it became clear it was a stinky barracuda. Jim went down to find gloves and pliers, to rid the the fish off the hook without suffering bites, which happened easier than we expected.

The journey was not bad after all, I spent the afternoon reading and ate a piece of chocolate cake I had baked two days ago. We saw two boats pass by, in the distance Nivas turned on its lights and the mountains of Monserrat were waiting ahead with its steaming sulfur. Once we passed the island, Guadeloupe would smile to us, then, we had no longer to hear the engine roaring and spewing smoke, and I'd found comfort for my back, the night was going to get clear with the lights of the city, and my heart would fill with joy, because we would be just a few hours away from our little piece of paradise in the Caribbean, Les Saintes.

In the mean while I said: Sing, cute engine sing! I want to hear you sing!

AnechyNotes

Underwater life under my eyes

Christmas Cove Treasures 

For the last month in St Thomas we have been very good about getting a routine of exercise. Thanks to that my neck is back to normal. But the island is too hilly and is not pedestrian friendly. The only flat place on the east end is the national park, where we walked about 20 minutes everyday. In the afternoon we drove to secret harbor, and swim for about an hour.

The best way to swim long distances is to entertain ourselves with some story until body and mind are disconnected from each other. At least that is what I do to keep on going. The other way is to entertain my eyes with the bottom. There is always something exciting going on.

The structures underwater are cover with life and offer shelter to fishes and lobster. We found six lobsters hiding under a tiny rock. As we dove to the bottom to look at them closer, one walked out of her spot and greet us shaking her antennas. I learned is not good to interact with the wildlife, but is good to let them know is no safe for them. Jim touched it and she immediately backed up. If it would be a fisherman she would be dead.

The amount of colorful fish swimming around the reef is nothing compared to what it used to be. The locals catch anything, from grouper to squirrel fish. And that is sad. The queen angel fish has this beautiful bright blues and yellow, we don't see those very often. But we found that turtles are gracious and smart. They have learn to sit still next to a rock and pretend they are under camouflage. "You can't see me" . I fancy they are saying. A lot of people chase them to take pictures, even try to touch them or just enjoy their presence a little bit longer. The truth is, turtles are not fish, they can breath underwater. If we follow them for too long they will go to the bottom to hide, and hold the air for a long time, when they are needing to surface and breath. The best we have learned to do is stop swimming and look at them while they go by and pretend "I can't see you, beauty".

We didn't find any lion-fish in secret harbor, but we saw one in Christmas Cove a few days ago. The curious thing for me is that 2 years ago they seem to look brownish and now every single one I have seen is black, They look almost like a sea urchin. I don't know if they mute or is a different specie. I saw one of those stinkers and alarmed Jim, we don't carry a spears with us, but is good to report. Jim disappear behind me and next thing I saw under was his huge body swimming with a big rock to attack the lion-fish. He let it go over the stoning fish and in a matter of a second that rock hit the bottom where the fish was and the fish had moved to the side of the big rock he was standing next to. That was so fast!

One of my favorite fish to watch while I'm snorkeling is the puffer fish. That round face, with tiny mouth and big round eyes is so cute. Their fences are little and they move with a funny grace, à mon avis. I see one and I can't help myself to go Japanese-cartoon-face underwater. We had seen a school of nine big ones. Yesterday a couple of the them swam back and forth along the ledge on front of us. They were different in color. We guessed a male and a female. He was chasing her everywhere, she looked like she was trying to get rid of him. "Oh, brown eye girl". Was he singing. "Do you want to be my valentine?"

AnechyNotes

The creatures of the lagoon

The play ground of Independent Boat Yard

As we are leaving the dock on Independent boat yard I make a recall of our last three days in the milky and gelatinous waters of the lagoon. The pollution shows up better around the mangroves where if one stares at it for too long, it seems like some king of monster will surface. The no-see-ums and mosquitoes are by far the biggest population of wild life in the area, and they feed right at dusk. By that time we were all sheltered inside with screens on the port lights and hatches. But still, a few would find their way in and stick their teeth on us. "Just mind blowing".

The milky water of  the lagoon

I always thought that Compass Point Marina was a funky place, but Independence Boat Yard got the gold medal on the Olympics of funkiness. We like the docks there though, but I dared to walk on that old wood and it took me a 15 minute surgery to get that splinter off my toe. The boats on the slips don't go out very often. Their owners are constantly working to put the dream together. We talked to a guy one night for a little bit and his conversations went on and on about his gloom and doom idea of the world. We had just met him and I thought we were going to have a fight. And that, dear friends, has been going on a lot this season with a lot of people that we had just meet!

The happening place in the yard is the bar-restaurant. Every day at 5 o' clock the creatures of the lagoon meet there to have several drinks. Sometimes we were coming back from swimming, half pass five and the volume of the voices has gone up and crazy. We stopped by one night to buy some ice and the alcohol was yelling "Fs" up loud. On the wall of the bar there is a white flag with funky little guys dancing and letters across reading: become a lagoonie. My anxiety increased to a 100 %.

In the mornings, after the no-see-ums ease up a little, we go for a walk on the dock, just to see what live-a-boards have come up with. Floating houses tied to D and C dock with air conditioning, propane tank out side, attic, you name it. I think pictures show better than words.

As we finally pulled away from the slip I started to feel less claustrophobic. "I don't want to be another creature of the lagoon. I'm a sailor, I belong with the ocean". Then I reminded Jim, who was loving the ambiance, that phrase he repeats all the time: "Men and boats rotten at the dock". But not this boat, Jim, not this boat. We headed south, to Christmas Cove, two miles away, is just a start, right?

AnechyNotes

Identity

En Español

Rooster at the Beach

What a day! Hot, but with good breeze. Then, with so many interesting invitations to attend.

Mariel and Doug used to live in Morehead City , NC. Now living in their 32 feet long catamaran. Mariel has an amazing sewing shop and sews canvas for boats, exercise machines covers and any project that will contribute to her economy. She also plays the ukulele, my new instrument. That morning they passed by Salty Shores to invite us to visit them in their store. "Do you see the dock sticking out the mangroves? Where the boat with red bimini is tied up?". They said." Como on over to visit." We spent two hours talking about sewing and music.

Music every Friday at Dinghy Dock

At noon, we met Mike at public dock. The idea of our host, who's done a great job showing us the island, was to walk to the airport and wait for a bus under the shade of a tree. The walk was great, we enjoyed the construction work on the houses. After about five minutes of arriving, we hailed a cab and for three dollars took us to Flamenco beach. At the entrance there were many kiosks selling food. We were hungry and chose the food stand that smelled better. We ordered chicken kebabs, rice with red beans, tri-fongo (a ball of green and ripe plantains, yucca, marinated with crushed garlic and onion). It took a while for the food to come out, but it was so worth to wait.

Culebra

Old war tank on the beach

Playa Flamenco is a gem for Puerto Ricans. Also it was Saturday. Many young people and families arrive in the ferry to camp for weekends. Along the beach, behind the sea grapes trees, we could see the tents. In the camp are open showers, restrooms and drinkable water tanks. The beach was crowded, and the only trash on the sand was an old war tank decorated with graffiti, which is now an icon on the map. Behind the showers there is a fence, along the same there are several signs of danger, " unexploded bombs ".

Conga players on Saturday night at the Dinghy Dock

At eight, we went to "Dinghy Dock Restaurant", where every Saturday meet four percussionists playing conga. The best Caribbean Bushwacker in hand and all night to dance ahead. Doug asked me: "do you know who that man is?", Pointing to older percussionist of the group, "that is Meñengue, the Grandmaster Meñengue ". Ignorance is so bad! I thought, but it's never too late to learn. In the first break Jorge came to talk to us, one of the guys playing the conga drums, whom we met on his art shop, and he said: "I was in Cuba last year, how do you call that Alley, where they gather to playdrums? I went with some friends on a sailboat. Then we traveled around the island with the band Los Irakeres. People are poor, but they are very loving and hospitable guys. You have something that we do not have here: "Identity". Then he dismissed, for he had to go back to his conga. I stayed there, thinking.

Local architecture, villa for rent La Loma

Local cafe, small place, but very good food

Tarpons waiting for the people at the restaurant to feed them

Dinghy Dock Restaurant's seared tuna with a wasabi sauce and seaweed salad, rice and beans

At 6:00 am, we pulled the anchor up. The sun had not yet risen, but it was clear enough for me to see Rossamee anchored ahead, while I was driving Salty Shores of the port. "The trip back is not going to be as good." I recalled the words of the captain four days before, when we entered Culebrita. The bow was pointing east, the waves and the wind began to arise with the progress of the sun on the horizon. But in my mind I was just repeating the same word to the rhythm of the conga: "Identity" .

AnechyNotes

Identidad

To English

Gallo en las playa de Flamenco

¡Qué día! Caliente, pero con buena brisa. Luego, con tantas invitaciones interesantes.

Mariel y Doug solían vivir en Morehead City, NC. Ahora viven en su catamaran de 32 pies de largo. Mariel tiene una asombrosa tienda de costura y cose todo tipo de cobertores para botes, máquinas de hacer ejercicios y cualquier proyecto que le aporte a su economía. También toca el ukulele, mi instrumento nuevo. Esa mañana ellos pasaron por Salty Shores para invitarnos a hacerles la visita en la tienda. “¿Ves el mulle sobresale un poquito de los manglares? Donde está atado el bote con el techito rojo”. Me dijeron. “Hágannos la visita”. Estuvimos dos horas hablando de costura y música.

Presentación en Dighy Dock Restaurant todos los viernes

A las 12, Mike nos esperaba en el muelle del pueblo. La idea de nuestro anfitrión, quien ha hecho un gran trabajo enseñándonos la isla; era caminar hasta el aeropuerto y espera por el transporte bajo la sombra de un árbol. La caminata nos vino muy bien y pasados unos cinco minutos de haber llegado, nos paró un taxi y por tres dólares por personas nos llevó hasta la playa Flamenco. Jim y yo estábamos hambrientos. Elegimos el kiosco de comida que olía mejor. Pedimos pinchos de pollo, arroz con frijoles rojos, tri-fongo (una bola de plátanos macho verde, maduros y yuca, aplastados y adobados con ajo y cebolla). La comida se demoró un poco en salir, pero valió tanto la pena esperar.

Mapa turistico de Culebra

Tanque en Flamenco

Playa Flamenco es para los puertoriqueños una joya. Muchos jóvenes y familias llegan en el ferry para acampar los fines de semana. A lo largo de la playa, tras los árboles las uvas caletas se ven las casas de campaña. En la zona de acampada hay duchas abiertas, baños públicos y tanques de agua potable. La playa estaba llena de gente, y la única basura que había en la arena es un viejo tanque de guerra decorado con grafitti, que ahora es un icono del mapa. Detrás de las duchas hay una cerca, a lo largo de la misma hay varios carteles de peligro, "bombas sin detonar".

Congueros en Culebra, Meñengue en la esquina derecha

A las ocho de la noche nos fuimos al "Dinghy Dock Restaurant", donde todos los sábados se reúnen cuatro percusionistas a tocar conga. El mejor Bushwacker del caribe en mano y toda la noche por delante para bailar. Dough me preguntó: "¿tú sabes quién es ese hombre?", señalando al percusionista más viejo del grupo, "ese es Meñengue, el gran maestro Meñengue". ¡Qué mala es la ignorancia!, pensé yo, pero nunca es tarde para aprender. En el primer descanso se nos acercó Jorge, uno de los muchachos tocando la conga, a quien habíamos conocido en su tienda de souveniers; y me dice: "Yo estuve en Cuba, ¿cómo se llama el Callejón ese,donde se reúnen a tocar tambor...? Fui con unos amigos en un velero. Viajamos por la isla con el grupo Los Irakeres. La gente es pobre, pero son muy cariñosa y hospitalaria. Ustedes tienen algo que nosotros no tenemos: "Identidad". Luego se despidió, de regreso a su conga. Yo me quedé pensando.

Arquitectura de Culebra

Buenísima comeida en pequeño establecimiento

Tarpones esperando que los clientes del restaurante le tiren comida

Comida en el Dinghy Dock Restaurant 

A las 6:00 am, levantamos ancla. El sol todavía no había salido, pero era lo suficientemente claro para dejarme ver el a Rossamee, mientras conducía Salty Shores fuera del puerto. "El viaje de regreso no va a ser tan bueno". Recordaba las palabras del capitán, cuatro días atrás, cuando entrabamos en Culebrita. La proa apuntaba al este, las olas y el viento empezaban a levantar con el avance del sol sobre el horizonte. Pero mi mente solo repetía una palabra al ritmo de la conga: “Identidad”.

AnechyNotes

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