Sunset on the wide sea

We left Bonaire early Wednesday April 21st in a light 15 kn wind, that was predicted to come from ESE. It was E, pushing us more N that we wanted to go. One might say that the first two days and nights were uneventful. But can you really say that, when you are watching the sun rise from the dark sea, staining it pink at the end of the day? And when the silver flying fish shine in the moonlight? We admired and enjoyed the beautiful blue Caribbean sea, always changing shades, laced with white foam and then calm as if waiting for something to happen. Yes, calm. After two days of steadiness, the wind died. Of course we like light breezes or strong winds, that force us to shorten the sails. We like short refreshing squalls. In the calms, the sails are trembling in the confusion, the auto pilot stops working, the tension on board rises. The wind left us for the night, but in the morning light breeze filled our sails again. Early Saturday morning the hills of Puerto Rico appeared. We avoided the island by sailing to Vieques and in the mid day anchored in Ensenada Sun Bay. We chose it remembering the peace and quiet we enjoyed there last year. In the evening loud voices, speech like, coming from the beach, surprised us, then singing, chorus and the soloist. The event ended with fireworks. We rested on Vieques two nights, relaxing, catching some fish. On Monday the 26th we moved on to St.Thomas, anchored in the small Flamingo Bay and on Tuesday we sailed on into the Coral Bay on St.John.

The Young

The gulls on the shore are making love, their screeching voices and flapping wings announcing the arrival of new life. There is enough fish in these clear waters for generations to come. We are relaxing in the cockpit after a rush getting the sailboat ready before dark for an early morning departure. We've said our goodbys to our friends here, promissing to keep in touch, and to come back, escaping another New England winter.

Rain

After months of drought the sound of rain drops on the fiberglass deck woke us up. We harried to make sure all the hatches were shut tight, then settled in the cockpit to enjoy lightning drowning into the sea. Heavy drops were making their way down the dodger and the sides of the cabin in brown straems, untill all the dust was washed off in a sudden downpure. At the daybreak, the sun rose as if nothing had happened during the night. We stayed in the Harbour Village Marina, where the calms allowed us to replace the old main sail with the new. We lasted there two nights under the invasion of mosquitos, flying from the lagoon across the street. Beside the nasty beasts, the stink arose from the lagoon, connected to the sea by a narrow stream, at every low tide. Even though, we enjoyed watching pink flamingos feeding in it's shallows. We are on the mooring now, where the mosquitos can not reach us, swimming off the boat in the sea, that is in April almost as warm as the air.

Maturity

We are back on Bonaire. We were suppose to leave moody New England spring weather a week earlier, but missed the plane departure by a day. There is a reasonable explanation for that. Living on the boat many months, we became careless of the hour of the day, day of the week. Our days start at dawn and end at nightfall. Light is more valuable then time. We only look at the calender, when we fill out the entry form of the island, we just anchored at. We know it is Sunday, when the island shops are closed. So, a week late, we are here again for a few days, until we prepare the boat to sail East. Connected to the Internet, we send notices of our arival to the kids. We scan our mail. Lately we are getting old folks jokes in our E-mail. Why??? First, we ignored them, then, Polde decided to read one, but couldn't. "Nada, have you seen my glasses anywhere?" "Yes", I replyed, "but I can't remember, wherë."

Holding hands

Sailing in the Caribbean we meet a lot of people. Most of them are like us, seniors in 'good shape for the age' we carry on our backs. Pretending to do jobs on the boat, little jobs to kill the day that goes by to fast anyway. When the sun releases it's hot grip, sometime in the late afternoon, it is time for a walk, final destination the ice cream parlor or two happy hour drinks in a bar. Now about the walk. With very few exceptions mature couples hold hands while walking. When I was a young girl, I was touched by that and I wished it would be happening to me some day. The romantic idea that somebody still loves you after many shared years. The truth is, holding hands is a sign of depending on somebody and also the fear of loosing him or her. The sign of time, the storms and the resignations we go through many years of bonding. We are in Maine now taking a break from the hot sun. We are walking the streets of Bethel. It is after ski hours, people are visiting the shops, checking out the menus posted on the doors of the restaurants. Nobody is holding hands. Are people of New England less carrying, more independent? Suddenly I get an urge. I turn to Polde: "Hold my hand". "Oh, no", he replies, "my hands are cold. I would rather keep them in my pockets".

One day, any day on Bonaire

It is early, the sun is not up yet, but I am. Captain is inforsing his sleeping right. To early to cook, coffee is instant. I seat on the deck, put a piece of chicken on the hook and dip it into the aquarium undernith the boat. It is breakfast time for fish. At seven, cruise ship sneaks into the harbour. On the shore people start stretching, walking, running, before the sun shines the heat down on everybody. It is to early for divers, who spent part of the night under the water. Then, the first cars on the road along the shore start beeping, greating the walkers and the runners. I hear noises in the cabin. Captain is up. Time to play tennis. The sun is burning off the clouds, the courts are hot. We did good, lasting an hour and a half. We pick up a baguette in a deli shop and dinghy back to our floating home. It is swimming time, then lunch, a few games of cards, captain's nap, while I feed chichen to the fish again. Mid afternoon we dinghy to the marina, then walk a mile along the shore, each time admiring 'Nada', when we go by her, to Kralendijk. We walk through the town, nothing is new. We stop for an icecream and buy some mangos on the Venezuela's market, then walk back to the marina. It is four in the afternoon, kids are out of school. They come to the shore to show off their sailing skills. Sunfish sailboats look like butterflys with their colourfull sails. One tips over in the gust, oh, another one! But they pull the sails out of the water and race on. It doesn't matter that they are wet, the air is hot. After dinner we play ten games of dominos. Another day in paradise is over.

Traffic

There are no traffic lights and no speed limitation signs on Bonaire. Instead the authorities placed speed bumps where they felt the traffic should slow down. Elsewhere the cars and the motorcycles are free to drive too fast on the roads, that were not built for speeding. Inspite, we haven't seen an exident yet. We see a lot of jeeps, small cars and pick-up trucks with wooden racks on the back for diving equipment. This is the diving world. Bubbles from divers around and under our boat are at any time, day or night. People of all ages and sizes come to Bonaire to see the world, that is hidden from the rest of us. But let's go back to the wheels. During the week, cars are being used as a necessity. Friday night is a show time. Along with the brick-paved promenade walkway along the shore is a one way road, where most of the Kralendijk restaurants are lined up. Every Friday evening polished cars are being driven there bumper to bumper, music to anybody's taste sounding out of the open windows. Some cars are overfilled with youth, girls sitting on boys' laps, and still flirting with those walking in the promenade. Out of the cars the calls are coming to the walkers in Dutch, Papiamentu, Spanish and English language. This is a small island, but certanly multinational.